Maternal Instinct

by Magic Man

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Philomena, Tragedy, Queen Chrysalis, Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, Sad, Drama, Changelings, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 102496

Chrysalis has never been what most would call an 'ideal mother' to her only living daughter, the sickly Crown Princess Pupa. However, after a dreadful incident, the Changeling Queen is forced to confront her missteps as both a mother and a ruler.

Queen Chrysalis has only one grub that has survived into fillyhood; her daughter, the physically lame and mentally impaired Crown Princess Pupa. Chrysalis has never been what many would call the 'maternal type', even towards Pupa, whose adoration of her mother has no bounds. Preferring to swamp herself in the dire affairs of state, Chrysalis lets her crippled daughter be raised by her affectionate nanny.

But one day, as the Changeling Kingdom's problems reach boiling point, the Queen's already short temper erupts and she must deal with the heartbreaking consequences...

Edited and pre-read by Chaodiurn
Pre-read by Scarheart

Now with a TvTropes Page. Feel free to contribute.

Published 2012-11-29 14:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-01-06 23:19:17 UTC

Chapter Three

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Three

The gardens of the royal palace were first built some 300 years ago, under the order of King Cocoon. They were a gift for his new wife, the beautiful Queen Consort, Vespa, who he knew adored flowers, especially those of the rare calibre. The new gardens became home to the kingdom’s prettiest and rarest plant life, all for the queen and her family’s eyes alone. As years passed, they took on the characteristics of the more traditional styles of Changeling gardens, and eventually divided up into a large modern ornate complex to accommodate them. Today, few creatures outside the palace have seen such an awe-inspiring pocket of the world for themselves.

“Stay on my back, Princess,” Cerci told her as they trekked their way down the garden path which had been covered in a blanket of freshly fallen snow. A nasty chill was in the air, turning the koi ponds’ surfaces into solid ice. The nanny wore several layers (with a satchel hung around her shoulder), but it did little to keep her warm.

Pupa, on the other hoof, looked positively snug as a bug. Cerci had wrapped the Princess up in twelve layers of clothing (far more than herself), complete with a thick scarf, three socks on each hoof and a large, furry hat. It was the strict rule that whenever she went outside in even the slightest cold weather, she was kept as wrapped up and warm as possible, to the point she could barely move her legs anymore. All of said layers made it even difficult for her to squirm atop of Cerci’s back, no matter how much she tried, though the warmth she received against the biting cold air made up for the discomfort.

She looked above and saw with amazement the millions of tiny white flakes flittering down from the bright grey sky, one of them landing on the tip of her muzzle. She reached her hoof to it, but only to find a little bit of water. More flakes fell on her face and mane and she noticed that they too quickly turned to water. She kept her mouth wide open, trying to catch some more on her oversized tongue.

“We’re here, darling,” said Cerci, stopping where she stood and lifted the filly off her back and onto the white ground. They stood before a lush bed of fine pink tulips, arranged neatly like they were a disciplined company of soldiers. After a pause or two, Pupa steadied herself on her shoddy forelegs and, with an encouraging nudge from Cerci, she forced herself to haul her weight forward and crawl across the frozen, crunchy blades of grass.

But as Pupa crawled towards them, she felt her surroundings surprisingly turned warmer than they were just seconds ago, and the grass turn softer and moist as the frost melted. It felt like a lazy summer’s day, despite everything she saw around her telling her otherwise. She looked up and around to see the snowfall had stopped around her and the flowerbed, though it continued everywhere else.

The little one shrugged off the strangeness and got to marvelling her tulips. In her mind, these were her tulips, nochangeling else’s. Only she was allowed to idol their colour and figures and lose herself in their aroma. Greedily, she decided to pluck the nearest one for herself, but was foiled by the overseeing nanny.

“No, Pupa,” she told her sternly, giving her a firm tap on the hoof to make her release the tulip, “you’re supposed to look at them, don’t touch them.”

Pupa whined defiantly and tried to snatch the tulip again, but Cerci would have none of it and had to hold her back. It did not stop the Princess, who kept squirming in her forelegs like a worm wriggling through the soil.

“Pupa, I said ‘no’!” Cerci scolded, raising her voice but still keeping it to a reasonable tone, in case anychangeling was nearby and within earshot.

The Princess soon stopped, though more from exhaustion than obedience. She grinned slyly as she got an idea, not a particularly clever one, but it worked in the past. She covered her face with her sleeves and forced herself to weep so loud Cerci could not ignore it.

“It’s not going to work, Princess.” She stood her ground and picked the little one up. “You can’t have one, and that’s that.”

But Pupa’s resoluteness was greater than her nanny’s and the moment she was picked up, she threw back her head and raised the pitch in her voice, turning her weeping into a full-blown shriek. Cerci released her and covered her ears to drown the horrid sound out. Pupa brought her voice up to the equivalent of the world’s biggest hoof being dragged slowly down the world’s biggest chalkboard.

“Okay, okay! Alright!” Cerci yielded in seconds, and with that, the noise stopped and she looked down to see Pupa grinning ear-to-ear jovially as normal. She let out a sigh, knowing she had no choice now. Baby always got what she wanted. Reluctantly, she leaned over to the flowerbed and quickly plucked a small, less noticeable tulip from the collection and levitated it before her. “Where do you want it?”

Barely containing her excitement, Pupa batted the left side of her head. Cerci understood and slid the flower carefully into the filly’s mane, just above her ear. The Princess was overjoyed; she rubbed up against her foreleg like a purring cat, allowing her to adjust the tulip so it faced upward. Cerci could not help but smile.

The two continued their journey through the gardens, stopping every two minutes to admire more flowers and with enough whining, added a new addition to the pretty bouquet forming in Pupa’s mane. Exploring the gardens had been their favourite activity together since the day she was first brought here as a grub. It was a welcome change from the dark, dismal caverns of the palace. The only real problem was, naturally, Pupa’s inability to admire natural beauty instead of just putting her hooves on everything in sight.

They passed a large pond on their way to the camellias. It was not a particularly special pond; it had no ornamental or floral decorations and looked like it was being left unattended. But once she saw it, Pupa became fixated with it, not in the manner of a filly with its favourite toy, mind you, but as something she dreaded. Just looking at the pond caused her fur to raise and she gave a hard tug on Cerci’s collar to get her to stop walking.

Cerci barely had to look at the pond to get the idea and groaned with exasperation, “Oh, this again...” she set her down again and opened up and rummaged through the satchel. “Don’t worry, I’ve brought it.” What she pulled out was a large, ripe cucumber which had been written on with ink. She knelt down and said, “Do you want to do it this time, or me?”

Pupa shook her head and whimpered, crawling up behind her as if to use her as a protective shield.

Approaching the pond, the nanny stopped at the edge and awkwardly held up the cucumber. She glanced around to check nochangeling was watching, and then back at the expecting Pupa, before tossing the cucumber into the pond with a resulting plop.

“There,” she said with finality and a small smile. “It’s done. The Kappas will leave you alone, sweetie.”

This odd little ritual pacified the filly and restored her joyful mood. She returned to her place on the elder’s back and smooched the top of her head. Cerci took this affectionate display for the Princess’ way of saying ‘thank you’ and accepted it.

“You’re welcome, Princess.”

Inwardly, she sighed. She now regretted the nights she spent reading those old stories to the Princess. Make no mistake, she cherished every moment they shared together and each night she read, Pupa hung onto every word she spoke with wide-eyed fascination, be it The Fountain of Youth or The Husband of the Rat's Daughter. What filled Cerci with regret were the times she told her stories of those damn Kappas.

The first time she was told them, Pupa was fascinated by stories of the flamboyant water sprits, known as the Kappas, what in turn encouraged Cerci to tell her more stories about them. At first, she saw no harm; they were only stories, after all. But she made the mistake of forgetting to take into account the filly’s naiveté. Cerci herself doubted such even creatures existed, but for such an impressionable child they were as real as the sun that gave them light and the air they breathed. She became anxious whenever she was near rivers and ponds, the places where Kappas were supposed to dwell, fearing the creatures would spring out of them and eat her up like they did all changeling fillies. Cerci was then forced to perform the ritual of writing the names of her and loved ones into the Kappa’s pond to appease the demons and gain their favour, if just to give Pupa peace of mind.

Of course, Chrysalis was far from impressed when she caught wind of it, once commenting, “Oh, so now she’s scared of imaginary water monkeys. How will she handle the ponies? Have you throw oats at them and hope they’ll go away?”

Near the end of their little walkabout, the nanny and Princess sat down on a snowy knoll on a decorative rolled out carpet. This was time spent to just sit back and enjoy the sounds and scenery of the garden. Cerci sat up with crossed legs and sat Pupa between them, letting her rest her little head against her chest as they did nothing but listen.

The babbling brooks. The splashing waters of the miniature waterfalls creating a steady pattern of endless rhythm. The chirping of the crickets and birds. All came together to create a sweet symphony of serenity, one which proved short-lived when broken by a noise, faint but incessant, one that did not belong in this natural environment. Cerci picked up on it and quickly traced it.

“Princess, what are you doing?”

Cerci stared down and witnessed the filly nuzzling into her chest yearningly, piercing and loudly puckering her lips in a perfect ‘O’. She stopped when caught and returned a guilty look, pressing down on her stomach. She was hungry. Gently, she pushed her away from her chest. “No, sweetie. We don’t do that anymore. You’re too old. C’mon, let’s go inside and get lunch.”

As luck would have it, just as they were about to do that, Cerci ducked and covered Pupa protectively in her legs. She felt something fly fast over their heads. For a second, she thought it was a rock or a spear, but when she opened her eyes, she was immensely relieved to see it was only a large red ball, which rolled to a slow stop several yards from them.

The sound of heavy panting came from over the knoll as somechangeling ran in their direction. Cerci glowered at this newcomer and levitated the ball towards herself before standing up to meet her.

The newcomer, a flustered female servant who was badly underdressed for the weather, stopped a few feet from them, sweet dripping from her face and holding her burning chest. She was shivering uncontrollably from the biting cold, made worse by being caked up to her knees in snow. She looked like she was trying to say something, but was completely out of breath, leaving Cerci to start the conversation.

“Looking for this, Thysbe?” She asked unimpressed, levitating the ball up to her.

“I… I need to get this back,” she did her best to explain, stopping to swallow and prevent herself from collapsing from exhaustion. “The Princess will--”

“Thysbe! Hurry up!”

That loud, shrill voice shriek came from only a short distance away, piercing their ears like a long, serrated knife. They recognized the voice; Cerci rubbed her temples, but Pupa smiled and tugged Cerci’s sleeve.

“Uh, sweetie… I thought you wanted to eat. I’m sure you’d rather--”

Pupa opened her mouth wide, taken in a deep breath…

“Let’s go,” she said immediately, tossing the ball back to Thysbe.

Over the knoll, the trio made their way down the slope, struggling through the thick blankets of snow that reached up to their bellies. Cerci had to play a careful balancing act to keep Pupa from falling off her back, and the repetitive shouting from their beckoner was certainly not helping.

Finally, they reached their destination: a large, warm patch of garden shielded from the snowfall, almost the size of a regular garden and outlined with white chalk. It was covered in nine hoops set up in a pattern and the same types of coloured balls Thysbe were returning scattered about the grass. A game of sorts was being played here.

Standing inside this protected zone was a crowd of female changeling nobles and servants, the former all dressed up like they were attending a garden party or picnic. The noblemares were circled around one particular female, a tall, beautiful royal who was busy levitating a long mallet, which she dangled idly over the ground like a pendulum. The only other changeling that stood out amongst them was a restless little colt who stood at the feet of his own nanny, fidgeting non-stop on the spot, becoming increasingly fed up the longer he had to wait there.

The female in the centre stood roughly the same height as her older sister, sporting a smooth, attractive combination of dark purple mane, tail, carapace and eyes. She bore a strong resemblance to Chrysalis, but whilst she was now much wider and curvier, this royal was the complete opposite. The mare was as thin as a rake, with the kimono she was wearing practically hanging off her frame. Her face was particularly gaunt and made to look further ghastly by the same sunken eyes common in their family.

The irritated look on the royal’s face made it clear her patience was running thin. She took a look at her golden watch and tapped her hoof on the ground.

When she saw the three changelings entering the zone, she was no less annoyed. “There you are,” she snarled at Thysbe and pointed at the chalk lines she just walked over. “Reset the ball. Nine inches. Use my mallet to make sure you get it right.” She shoved the mallet into her hooves. “Go.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” replied the shivering, damp servant who was about to fulfil her duty, but momentarily stopped to formally introduce the newly arrived royal. “Oh, uh, Princess Danauria, your niece, Princess Pupa.”

The older mare’s demeanour changed in a snap of a griffin’s talons as she and the nobles seemed to only take notice of Pupa’s existence that moment. A sweet, caring smile appeared on her gaunt face, solely from the filly’s presence.

“Ohhh, there’s my favourite niece!” Princess Danauria whisked her horn and Pupa flew off Cerci’s back and up to her chest, holding her in her foreleg. She hugged her and smothered her with kisses like she were a pedigree puppy, and Pupa returned the love to her favourite aunt with gusto. Danauria spotted the bouquet sticking out of her mane, which was now so large it was a wonder how her head kept balanced. “What’s this?” She asked with no hint suspicion, but the question was aimed at Cerci, judging by her hardening eyes focusing on her.

Sweat formed on Cerci’s head as she mentally kicked herself. She had forgotten completely about the flowers! Danauria was going to have her head for this: one of her favourite white roses was part of the ensemble.

“Well… it looks sweet.” She said, her sweet mother-like smile suddenly returned, but her eyes remained on her. “It’s a good thing you and Pupa are here, Cerci. We’ve just started a lovely game of croquet.”

“Cro-ket, Your Highness?” Cerci asked, confused. “I’ve never heard of such a game.”

“Of course you haven’t,” the older Princess sneered, flicking her mane. “It’s a game played by ponies of Canterlot high society.” The noblemares around her held up their own large mallets, as well as their heads, proudly.

“Canterlot?” She did not like the sound of that, at all. “You mean you’re playing an Equestrian game?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“Of course not, my Princess,” she verbally backpedalled. “I… I just meant to ask i-if the Queen was alright with this.”

Princess Danauria waved a dismissive hoof, laughing heartily, “Oh, don’t you worry about dear Chrysie; she’s far too busy with all her tedious royal business.” She put her hooficured hoof to her chest, putting on a sophisticated air. “We’re merely enlightening ourselves with Equestria’s rich, superior culture.”

The lavender-maned changeling tried to conceal her intense distaste for this snooty Princess with an insincere smile. To her, Danauria and her little entourage’s ‘enlightening’ was a disgrace to the royal family and their kingdom. They arrogantly cast away their people’s values of modesty and quiet dignity so to indulge themselves in the extravagance and garish decadence of what countries like Equestria and the Griffin Kingdom had to offer; she could smell the combination of many different but strong Equestrian and Griffin perfumes humming off them, almost making her gag.

“Why don’t you join us?” Danauria asked all of a sudden.

“Oh, uh…” Cerci knew she could not exactly refuse, but tried to find an excuse. “Normally, it would be an honour, Princess, but Pupa and I--”

“Excellent,” she rudely cut her off. “Thysbe, get her a mallet.”

“But I was going to take Pupa inside--”

She bounced the little Princess up and down in her leg, making her giggle. “There’s no harm for the little one in staying out a little longer. In fact…” Handing her back over to Cerci, Danauria looked over her shoulder and beckoned, “Morphin, sweetie, c’mere!”

The colt, who had gone virtually unnoticed for a while, begrudgingly walked towards them with his nanny in tow, the latter a changeling by the name of Silverfish, whose tired, haggard face told the story of a mare who was just ready to drop dead. She wore the same plain garbs as any other servant, the only distinguishable thing about her being the way she wore her olive green mane in a loose bun.

While Danauria was, by all accounts, a beautiful mare, her little dependent was far less appealing to look at. He was no older than Pupa, with a long, thick, matted mane of a colour so dark in tone it could have been any. Like Pupa, some of his limbs were badly disproportionate, like his left hind leg, leaving him leaning to his right. His dental work was poor: a lot of his teeth were crooked or twisted about and some were missing entirely, made only more noticeable by his underbite. Worst of all were his pale blue eyes, bulging not sunken and one staring out in another direction. The effect was frightening, and one could not fault Cerci for recoiling before bowing to them.

Danauria knelt down to his level, asking him, “Morphin, how would you like to go play with Pupa?”

“Mama!” the little one shrieked, not paying attention to her question as he jumped up and down, reaching up to her, or rather, the mallet she was levitating. “Mama, I wanna play with the hammer! I wanna play with it!”

“No, darling, its Mama's,” she admonished gently, but gave him a loving pet on the head. “Croquet’s for grownups. You can have fun with Pupa, instead.”

The second the colt looked at his cousin, he became upset and shook his head violently. “NNNO! No, no, no! I don’t want to play with her! No, no, no!” He shouted in his screechy little voice. This frightened Pupa, who wrapped around Cerci’s neck and buried herself in her shoulder.

His little outburst did not please his mother, who calmly told them, “Give us a moment…” she then angrily took her son aside, hissing into his ear, “Now you listen here…” the rest was inaudible for the other changelings, but from her furious rasps, it was not pleasant. It went on for a minute at most, before they turned back around, Danauria smiling once again. “Right, so you kids can go spend some quality time together by the koi pond while we play croquet.”

Cerci wanted to protest, or better yet, just turn around and leg it; leaving Pupa alone with this particular cousin of hers was not a good idea. But she knew she had no choice and hesitantly, she followed Silverfish as the two took their charges over to a nearby koi pond.

The koi pond was frozen, and only the small orange blur revealed where the trapped fishes were moving about underneath. Silverfish cast a spell overhead, causing the snow to stop falling in the spot they were standing, and the pintsized royalty were sat down facing each other on the snow still covering the ground.

Pupa felt uncomfortable sitting with him and was absolutely shocked to see Cerci and Silverfish slowly walking away from them. She whimpered for her, holding out her forelegs for her to come back.

She did indeed come back, but only to kiss her and comfortingly tell her, “It’s alright. Play with him for a little while. I’ll be back soon, I promise.” With that, the two older mares departed.

Now alone, the two children sat there in total silence, save for the crackling ice on the koi pond and the whistling cold breeze, staring at each other awkwardly for what seemed like forever.

Although she could not say it, Pupa did not enjoy being around her cousin; there was something about the way he looked and the way he acted that made her very nervous. She only wanted to be away from him as soon as possible.

Prince Morphin was the first to finally break the ice. “You… look... pretty,” he said slowly, but his loud voice still made her uncomfortable.

She tilted her head, looking at him confused. Was he trying to be sweet to her?

“Mama told me to --I mean… uhh, I wanna touch your mane.”

He raised his hoof and, with the greatest apprehension, reached forward to touch her face. She shrunk away, whining in protest, but he touched her anyway. At first, the fur on his hoof felt rough and bristly like the brush Cerci used to clean her during bath time, and yet she got used to it pretty quickly and remembering her fondness for being petted, she slowly allowed him to explore the rest of her face and onto her mane.

Morphin was quite enjoying himself; he found her mane to be smooth and silky like the dolls’ from the nursery. Wanting more, he took one thick lock and rubbed it against his cheek. Pupa did not mind, she thought it was funny. He did start pushing it, though, when he began poking her close to the eye.

“Your eye’s doing it too!” he said, getting excited.

“Huh?” The Princess squeaked.

He pointed at his own bugging eye, the one that stared in another direction from the other. “Your eye’s weird, like mine!”

Pupa felt offended by that remark, and she sensitively flapped her hoof over her eye. Sometimes her right eye would stare off a bit, as it supposedly was doing now, but she did not like other changelings talking about it or pointing at it.

“You’re drooling!” Morphin continued, by now breaking out into a fit of giggles. “Why’re you doing that? Only hatchlings drool.”

She looked down and saw the front of her kimono was stained with her own dribble and the sticky substance was pouring off her bottom lip like a waterfall. Her lip began to quiver. Morphin was being mean and laughing at her.

Morphin clearly did not pick up that he was upsetting her and continued to grasp and stroke her mane, until she curled up and shied away from him. When he tried it again, she just pushed his grabby little hooves away.

In immediate response, Morphin leapt up, eyes widening and his breath accelerating. He clutched one hoof with the other, looking at it and acting as if she had just attacked him.

“Don’t do that!” he practically screamed it. “You’re not allowed to touch me!” His face was contorting in anger and his cheeks flushed green as he began jumped up and down. “Nochangeling’s allowed to touch me!” In an arc of black, he slapped her hard in the face, knocking her off her haunches.

Pupa landed hard on her side, her head banging against the snow, knocking off her hat and getting it all in her mane. Her cheek stung horribly, her thick clothes meaning she could not sit back up to hold it, let alone stop the melting snow trickling down the back of her neck. The pain, discomfort and realization she had just been struck made her burst out crying, wailing for Cerci.

In an extraordinary matter of seconds, Cerci had witnessed what transpired and flew all the way down to the pond, landing beside her weeping Princess. Immediately, she held her and wiped off as much snow as she could. She kissed the stinging mark on her cheek where Morphin hit her. After making sure she was okay, her smouldering eyes fixated on the beastly little colt before her.

“You!” she growled at him, her voice simmering with rage. “What do you have to say for yourself, young Prince!?”

“She touched me!” He yelled, pointing at Pupa. “Nochangeling’s allowed to touch me!”

“Oh, that is it! I am going to—”

“Cerci!”

Silverfish came flying at them, landing between her and the Prince before Cerci did something she would seriously regret.

“I’ve got this handled.” She turned on the Prince and strictly ordered him, “Morphin, you apologize to your cousin, this instant!”

“NO! No, no, NO!” The tyke even had the audacity to spin around and buck his hind legs at her. “Make her apologize!”

“MORPHIN!”

Morphin practically froze solid. That scream did not come from his nanny, but from his mother.

They all turned in time to see Danauria land firm on the grass in front of them, glaring at her son with not maternal disappointment, but of the outrage a Queen would have for the disobedience of a lowly knave. Wasting not a second, her horn glowed and the Prince squealed as he was lifted up by the ear to his mother’s level.

“How dare you hit your little cousin!” she shouted, knocking the gall right out of him.

“B-But Mama, she touched—”

She smacked him across the face, twice as hard he did Pupa. The resulting ‘slap’ was enough to make the others wince (though Cerci was smirking inwardly at seeing the little brat get what was coming to him).

“Don’t you ‘Mama’ me! I don't care if she touched you! How many times have I told you?! You’re not allowed to hit anychangeling, especially a filly! Do you like it when I hit you?!” Danauria continued to berate him in his face before slapping him again, but much less harder. She brought him before his cousin who, by now, had finished crying and was looking at him through misty eyes. “Now, I won’t say it again: apologize!”

Morphin looked Pupa in the eye, now wiping tears and holding his stinging cheek, he sniveled pitifully, “I’m sorry.”

Danauria gave him to his nanny, ordering her, “Silverfish, take him back to my chambers so he can think about what he did. I’ll deal with him later.”

They watched the sympathetic Silverfish take her distraught colt away. Danauria waited until they were far enough away before she dropped her angry front and let out a pained sigh of frustration, holding her forehead in her hoof.

“Your Highness…?”

“I apologize for my son’s behaviour, Cerci.” Danauria did not look at her, instead focusing her attention on Pupa, holding her chin. “He just doesn’t like being touched, okay?”

“I will take the Princess back inside, in case she catches something.”

“Alright. We’ll try something later.”

Finally free to get away from Danauria and her entourage, Cerci carried Pupa through the gardens and back into the palace. She may have felt a bit bad for Danauria after witnessing what she had to deal with, but any longer and she would have died from the sheer amount of obnoxiousness.

“I’ll put you by the fireplace, Princess. The last thing we need is you getting sick.” Cerci said, hanging her extra layers of clothing up on the hooks in the entrance corridor, before proceeding to get the filly out of hers. “What’s wrong?”

The Princess was looking back at the entrance leading back into the garden with concern. Something was filling her with regret and it did not take an idiot to figure out what.

“Don’t you feel bad for your cousin; he got what was coming to him for raising a hoof to you.” She pulled through the five of Pupa’s twelve layers. “Let’s get you something to eat. The chefs have cooked you up some of your favourite ramen.”

The filly smiled and tried pulling off her socks by herself, her hunger dousing any lingering pity for her cousin.

‘That worked like a charm,’ Cerci thought to herself as she finished getting her out of her outdoor layers and carried her off to her dining room. She then thought bitterly, ‘But leave it to Danauria and her brat to ruin a pleasant day in the garden. If that’s how he treats now, ugh… I can’t bear to imagine what it’ll be like when they’re married.”

Author's Note

(A/N) Hi, I'm back, and using the author's notes for the first time (will probably go back to add them to previous chapters).

Anyway, sorry for the LONG delay, no excuses other than the Holidays (Happy New Year, by the way, and hope you had a merry Christmas), job searching and procrastination. I'm also working on a Littlest Pet Shop fic, 'Space Monkey'. So yeah, busy bee, but this fic is far from dad and don't worry, we're approaching the real drama of the story soon enough. Enjoy!

And also, yes, I am no longer Wormtail96. I am from now on a...MAGIC MAAAAAAN!!!

Chapter edited, as well as all future chapters by: Chaodiurn

Chapter Four

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Four

A changeling stallion wearing a decorated general’s uniform collapsed to the decorative carpeted floor. He writhed about like a snake being stepped upon, screaming horrifically in sheer agony and kicking his legs wildly in the air in all directions. His hooves lashed at the sides of his head, tearing up the fur and flesh with long trails of blood dripping from the wounds. The wretched creature looked like he was undergoing an exorcism.

Sitting around the small, dimly lit room were a large group of changelings, a mixture of stallions and mares, dressed either in similar grey uniform, each sporting a varying collection of medals and pins, or the muted kimonos befitting politicians. This was the Changeling Army General Staff, convening within the stronghold of the royal palace. All of them sat with the silent demeanour and perfect posture of statues, not one of them twitching at the sight of the suffering officer or his agonizing cries.

Chrysalis sat before a short table, wearing her reading glasses as she looked over a large white map unfolded on top. It was a military map detailing the northern regions and its prefectures. Set on top were a dozen green figures, with many of them concentrated around the northern border, spilling over into the area on the map representing the lands beyond her kingdom’s jurisdiction.

For the best of five minutes, Chrysalis stared intently at the map, going over every last detail. When she finished, she tilted down her glasses and rubbed her temples before forcing her aching head up.

Her eyes drifted lazily towards the changeling sprawled out on the floor who, by now, had tears of pain pouring down his face as he rasped desperately for air.

“Apology accepted, General Antenaka.”

The general finally gave up and collapsed flat against the floor, only one of his hind legs twitching as the last of his breath wheezed from his mouth and his body remained motionless.

“Fillies, gentlecolts… our army is supposed to be something our kingdom is proud of,” Chrysalis said simply but with an underlying harshness that was simmering near surface as she continued to speak. “This was supposed to be dealt with two years ago.” She removed and folded up her glasses and levitated a newspaper to her right on the table and unfolded it.

The newspaper was one printed in the Griffin Kingdom. Its front cover featured a black-and-white photograph of a dozen changelings in filthy, ragged military uniforms sitting down in shoddy camps in a mountainous environment. The headline read in its native Griffin, ‘CHANGELING DESERTION AUF REKORDHOCH’.

“This was supposed to be over!”

She threw the newspaper back on the table with a loud ‘thud’ and though they tried to remain stone faced and quiet, the stallions in the room visibly cringed, while the mares did a better job of keeping themselves composed. For the stallions, they praised the gods that these meetings were strictly cut off from the outside world so none of their fellow stallions could see them in their position. Even for a female dominated society, for a changeling stallion to be emasculated in such a way by a mare was an absolute disgrace amongst themselves, even if that mare was the Queen.

“What do you have to say for your failure?"

They kept their lips buttoned. They all knew she wanted answers, but none dared speak out of turn.

“You!” she suddenly snapped, pointing at the Defence Minister. “I’m talking to you!”

He felt his mane blow by the force of her voice. The now pudgy, middle-aged politician amongst hardened military changelings looked dismally down at the damning statistics printed on the stack of documents before him that were thick enough for an encyclopaedia volume. Knowing he was doomed whatever he said, he gathered his bravery and bit the bullet.

“Your Majesty, the situation of our kingdom’s army is out of control,” he declared, not in shame or righteous indignation but as pure statement of fact. “Desertions by our soldiers have never been at such a shameful high in our military history. Our official estimates are placing the figure between 15,000 to 20,000 soldiers a year.”

“I know all that. What I want to know is how you’ve allowed this to happen.”

“Our research has uncovered numerous alarming factors that are contributing to this crisis.” The minister turned over the documents as he read them out, “Lack of efficient weapons and supplies… squalid living conditions… harsh treatment by commanding officers…”

Chrysalis forced herself to laugh, not out of genuine amusement but derision. “So, heh heh… you’re telling me either my soldiers are soft, undisciplined cowards, or my commanding officers are ridiculously incompetent? Or better yet, both?” She then composed herself and sighed, “Alright, I’ll accept that. It sounds perfectly believable when you really think about it, doesn’t it? Just tell me what you’ve decided to do about it.”

“We are ahead of it, Your Majesty,” spoke one tall, strongly built general in a gruff, baritone like voice. “We’ve already rounded up 400 deserters this month in the southern region and they will all pay the ultimate price.”

“Yes, but simply executing them will only deter the problem,” said the minister. “It will not stamp it out.” He immediately regretted it when he found himself under his Queen’s glare.

“As much as I hate to admit, for once, I agree with you, Gryllus,” she grumbled as her glare shifted from him to the general whom had spoken. “You’re free to hunt these deserters down like animals, General, but I don’t just want public displays, I want a permanent solution.”

“Then how do you suppose we stamp out the problem, Minister?”

It seemed the minister had landed himself in a boiling tub of hot water, until an elderly silver-maned changeling sitting near Chrysalis, wearing a medal decorated and gold trimmed military uniform that indicated the rank of Gensui, a field marshal, calmly interjected.

“Your Majesty, if I may…” the Gensui spoke softly but with an officer’s authority, readjusting his large, round glasses. “My fellow officers and I have been discussing the matter the last three months in private.” He motioned to the other senior officers sitting to his left and right, most of them mares. “We have put together a… possible solution to our dilemma.”

Chrysalis looked far more interested in what this changeling had to say than the others. “Go on.”

“We would prefer it if we could tell you in private.”

“I’m sure whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of your fellow officers.”

The Gensui was, at first, silent, but then continued, “Your Majesty, my fellow Gensui and I have come to a consensus that these current problems facing our army can be traced down to one source: the army is simply too big and unsustainable.”

“I see. And you’re suggesting…?”

He accepted long before this meeting that he said next would place his reputation and honour amongst most of his fellow officers, the army and the kingdom on the line. He summoned the courage and drew a breath before speaking.

“As regrettable as it is, the best course of action for our army and the kingdom as a whole… is a steep reduction in military personnel and expenditure.”

The moment these words were spoken, the entire room erupted in an unholy chorus of apoplectic outrage. Many of the officers and politicians stood up and began yelling and hurling accusations not just at the Gensui but even at each other. But the Gensui and his comrades sat straight-faced and silent with theirs head held high the whole time, the others’ harsh words bouncing off them like they were nothing.

“Unthinkable!”

“Such thinking is treason!”

“Silence him! He insults our army!”

“ENOUGH!”

The room fell silent once again at the sound of the Queen’s ear-piercing screech. Her wings burst out from her kimono and she flew into the air, her terrifying shadow cast over them all as she hovered above in mid-air.

“I am disgusted with you! You have the gall to call yourselves changelings!? Let alone leaders of our army!?” She screamed at them without relent. “Prince Pincer is your honoured superior and senior! You will all show respect!” Burning fury glowed from the narrowed slits that were her harlequin eyes and the stallions in the room felt their pride stripped from them and reduced to six-year-old colts.

She calmed herself down, pushing a strand of her mane back into place, before speaking to them with greater restraint, “All of you, except for Prince Pincer and Minister Gryllus, are dismissed. We will reconvene in one hour.”

Heads held low and tails hanging between their legs, the officers and politicians, save for those named, trekked their way out of the meeting room. A couple of them were considerate enough to pick up General Antenaka’s body and carry it out with them.

“And this conversation does not leave this room!” she barked after them. “Do you hear me?! It does not leave this room!”

Once they were all gone, Chrysalis used her magic to lock the door and cast a charm to ensure nothing could be heard from the outside.

She dropped back to her sitting position in front of the table, sighing through her nostrils and crossing again her numb legs just as pins and needles settled in. The minister took the time to take a drink of water to help clear his head.

Prince Pincer removed his glasses and polished them with a cloth he levitated out of his breast pocket, saying to her, almost amusingly, “Your officers are young, head-strong and overzealous. Heh heh, they remind me of myself when I was a youth.”

Chrysalis, on the other hoof, did not look so amused. “Uncle…” she began, sounding relatively restrained, but with an underlining frustration in her voice. “You know I’ve always respected you. I mean, you’ve always been here to counsel me, especially when most officers your age would normally retire.”

“Thank you,” he nodded.

“Then how could you of all changelings even think such a thing?” she asked, anger now surfacing in her voice. She may have respected him as she said, but that did not mean she hung on his every word. “I can't shrink the army! No ruler in our history has ever done such a thing.”

He retained his stoic expression, telling her simply, “I only wish for you to do what is logical and best for your kingdom.”

“You consider it logical?”

The old Prince sighed and donned his glasses. He took her hoof in his and looked into her eyes, a lot like how he did when she was small.

“I am a good few hundred years old, my niece,” he said, his voice croaking but carrying a strong air of wisdom. “I have seen many wars and their battles, nations rise and fall, and dictators and petty tyrants boast how they’ll rule the world one day and executed by insurgents the next. What’s happening to your army is what has happened to countless others: it is becoming defunct.”

This explanation only baffled her only more. “How can you say that?”

“Your army has well over two million changelings at your command this very moment, dear niece. What, pray tell, are you doing with them other than stand around?”

“You know it’s not as simple as that—” she tried, though she already knew that would do little against her uncle’s sharp mind.

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Are you at war?”

“No.”

“Is there civil unrest?”

“No!”

“What about Manechuria?”

She did not answer right away. Instead, she scrunched her eyes shut and bit her fangs down on her lip. Manechuria. The very name was a trigger for another migraine.

For hundreds of years, the Changeling Kingdom had its eye on the sparsely populated, resource and love-rich land of Manechuria, which had obvious advantages for their densely populated and resource and love-depleted kingdom. Past rulers sought to exploit the land to the north, some preferring to trade, others wanting to just march right in and take it. It was but another additional weight on the incumbent monarch’s shoulders, and how exactly did Chrysalis feel towards the whole thing?

“Blah! Manechuria, Manechuria, Manechuria!” She repeated the name with such contempt, wrinkling her snout as if the word itself was unclean. “I’m sick of everychangeling talking about Manechuria. No, Uncle, I’m not going to invade Manechuria! Why in Tartarus would I?”

That was not the answer he was looking for, but he went along with it. Shrugging, he offered, “Resources, territory, some love to take back to the kingdom. Not like you used to need a reason." He smiled fondly at the recollection. "I remember how much you used to enjoy the thrill of conquest when you were a younger mare, before Cant--” He stopped himself then and there, seeing the scowl forming on her face.

There was one rule to remember if you worked with or answered directly to Chrysalis, even if you were family: you never mention that invasion in front of her, at least not by name.

“… the incident in Equestria.”

“I’m done with invasion and conquest, Uncle.” Chrysalis rested her face glumly in her hoof, glazing her eyes over the map and making some of the little figures hover in the air. “It’s not fun anymore. It used to be about just going in in disguise, destroy them from within, and then take all the love we could get. But now it’s all just…”

“Politics?” Pincer shrugged.

“Money?” Minister Gryllus offered, the reminder of his presence in the room almost making Chrysalis jump.

“Yeah, that’s all it is now,” she said, rolling her eyes and dropping the figures back onto the table. “It’s all red tape, and League of Nations, and trying to keep our allies holding hooves and how much money we’re gonna lose if we invade. After that clusterbuck in... you know... none of it seems worth the headaches.”

Minister Gryllus thought it best to chip in, “And we already have plenty of extraterritorial rights there as it is. We own hundreds of Manechurian factories and ports there, and not to forget the South Manechurian Railway, that’s a real gem.”

“Why conquer Manechuria if we can just own it?”

“I agree, absolutely. So tell me...” Pincer said, his expression turning hard and serious. They had got a bit off topic there. “Why do you still insist on keeping such a large, uncontrollable army?”

Chrysalis was trapped. She wanted to give an answer and put the matter to rest, but she drew a blank. Everything he said was true; he even tricked her into talking about how right he was. That was clever Uncle Pincer. Her grandmother always said he should have gone into politics.

“I can’t do it, Uncle,” she sighed, but with no hint of defiance in her voice or assurance in her own arrogance. It was the only thing she could regurgitate. “It’s just not done.”

Pincer would not yield. He had her on the ropes. “But you can be the one to do it. The army must be reformed or it will inevitably collapse. You must make the right choice.”

She scoffed, “Right choice, Uncle? When have I ever been able make the right choice?”

“Chrysalis…”

“In case you have not noticed, every decision I make is leading to disaster!” she cut across. “If isn't the food, it’s the army! And if it’s not that, it’s my dau--” She caught her tongue at the last moment and paused before telling Gryllus sharply, “Minister, could you give us a moment?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Gryllus gathered his documents and was more than glad to scurry out of the room, which Chrysalis flicked her horn at and unlocked for him.

“What would our ancestors say if they saw this? What do you think he would say?!” She went on to rant, her voice heightening with anger once more as if at the flip of a switch.

“I know, but--”

Chrysalis stood up and pointed vehemently (and rather victoriously) up at the wall, from which hung a large portrait. It was of an enormous, menacing changeling dressed in a decorative military uniform, his dark holes of eyes created the haunting feeling of one being watched.

“No, you don't! He knew how to do things the right way! His subjects had faith and confidence in him! How could you expect any of them to support this!?”

She spun around and stormed frustrated up down the space between the table and the wall, grumbling under her breath.

“A decision may not be popular at the time, but that does not make it the wrong decision!” Pincer did his best to reason with her, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

“But my father—”

“Chrysalis, you're not your father!” He at last shouted exasperated, arising and banging the table hard with his hoof. The declaration was enough to stop the Queen where she stood, bug eyed and mouth hanging slightly open. The old changeling appeared remorseful by his choice of words, but he continued, in a softer tone, “The kingdom your father ruled no longer exists, my niece. The next generation of changelings no longer wants to be soldiers. They want to go to university and become businesschangelings and officials.”

“They're kids...” she muttered, staring down at the floor dejectedly.

“Yes, but that is the way the tide is turning.” Pincer came up to her and gingerly placed his hoof under chin and lifted her up so she could look into her eyes. “I would never ask for the destruction of the changeling army. Heh, I’d be out of a job, now wouldn’t I? The army can and will still have its place in society, but the evidence it clear: it needs to change… just as we do.”

Chrysalis pulled herself away, turning her back to him, and muttering quietly but just enough for him to hear, “I need to think, Uncle. Please, leave me.”

“I understand.”

He left her alone in the room. For what in Chrysalis’ mind could have been hours, she did not remove from her chosen spot, staring off into space. When she got bored of that, she made her way over to one corner of the room.

Sticking out like a sore hoof and occupying the entirety of the room’s corner was a large globe made of precious smooth gem stones. It was a gift to their family from one of the Griffin Kaiser a couple hundred years ago, worth now approximately ten trillion yen, but left to gather dust here in one of the palace’s hundreds of rooms, and not even on show.

She put her hoof to its cold, smooth surface, appearing to admire it, until her horn glimmered and a split formed across the globe. It then flicked open to reveal an assortment of tall, fancy bottles of wine, spirits, a cocktail bar and other beverages. She took a cocktail glass and a long-necked pink bottle, uncorked it and took a whiff of the sparkling contents in inside.

“So much for my new year’s resolution,” she grumbled, pouring herself half a glass, and downed the whole thing in one gulp. She shivered slightly with the fur on her coat sticking up on end, and poured herself another. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Dusk settled over the kingdom, obscured in the capital by the gathering clouds. They created a heavy rumble over the city, sending the changelings the message a storm was brewing.

Pupa sat down alone in the same room in the eastern tower of the palace as earlier, hunched over a table with the same set of crayons and paper. Except now, she was all by herself.

Cerci had been called away to take her turn tending to one of the other princesses who required her assistance, leaving Pupa in the care of one of the other younger nannies. The little Princess, naturally, did not want her to leave but did not have a say in the matter.

The nanny she was left thing was younger and inexperienced. She only stayed with Pupa for five minutes before she decided to take a “quick sake break” with one of the guards, leaving the filly all alone with her drawings.

Switching a green for a red crayon, Pupa stopped. She felt a slight chill up her curved spine. She looked behind her, but there was nothing but the small decorated walls and the flickering candle the nanny left behind.

She had been gone for a long time now and Pupa was becoming scared by how dark it was becoming. It must have been nearly her bedtime by now, where was her nanny? Where was Cerci? She would make it better.

You’re a stupid girl.

Pupa’s eyes twitched. It were those voices again; the little voices that came from somewhere, but Pupa could never see where. They went away and came back when they pleased. She had not heard from them in a while.

Your mommy hates you. She thinks you’re stupid.

Why don’t you just go away? Nochangeling likes you.

Curling up over her table and covering her ears, she tried to block them out. The voices said some of the meanest things. But it was no use; the voices rang as clear as a bell.

Your drawings are horrible.

You know Cerci doesn’t like you, either.

We hate you!

A flash of light and a rumble came from outside the partly window, followed by the heavy sound of rain. It did not drown the voices, though.

Get back to work.

Finish it.

You’re so slow.

She hurried to finish her drawings, the ones she had been working on for hours. They were sloppily drawn and she managed to colour more outside the lines than in, but she was satisfied with them and when she was finished, held the paper up and smiled with pride.

It was for her mother. A gift to say sorry for the embarrassment and dishonour she caused her earlier that day.

It’s wonderful.

She’ll love it.

Take it to her.

She knew she could not give it to her mother personally. She was still very busy with her meetings. That was not much of a problem; she could just put it in her bedroom for her to see. She had been in and out of her mother’s bedroom plenty of times.

Holding the paper in her mouth, Pupa got on all fours and crawled out the room through the door her nanny left ajar.

Chrysalis pupil shrank to pinpricks under the bright light. The doctor switched the miniature torch off and levitated it back in his white coat pocket and allowed the Queen blink a couple of times while he jotted down some notes on his clipboard.

While Prince Pincer was an old changeling in every sense of the word, Chrysalis’ personal doctor was so ancient, and so withered, he looked as if he was constructed of black leather strips. His pristine white lab coat clung to his frail frame as he shuffled around the small, cupboard like examination room.

“Your eyes are failing, Your Majesty,” he said, not looking up from his clipboard. “You’re going to need glasses in two years best.”

She rubbed her eyelid, saying, “I already have glasses.”

“Glasses you’ll need to wear all the time.”

“They’ll make me look like an old mare!” she growled, crossing her forelegs and squirming on the table like a defiant filly.

He held his hooves up pacifyingly, saying, “Well, there is an alternative; a Griffin ophthalmologist has recently come up with this new invention...” He levitated a brown leather covered book from a nearby table and opened it up so she could see the chapter he was looking for and the diagram it contained. “It is called a con-tact lens.”

“A what?”

“Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, but basically these are like glass lenses except you stick them on your eyes.”

Chrysalis winced at the mental image of pieces of glass shoved in somechangeling’s eyes. “That sounds like some form of torture.”

“Maybe, but I hear they’re selling like hot cakes in the Griffin Kingdom and Equestria. I would recommend at least trying them. Now, about your medication…” He put the book back and set his clipboard down and pulled something out of his coat pocket: a small jar of pills. “You told me the other day you’ve been having back problems with your headaches. In that case, the best option is to up your medication.”

She felt her heart leap at the sight of that jar and she started salivating. Her pills. Oh, how she needed them. It had been hours since she took them before going down for breakfast. If she had not the slightest self-control, she might have snatched the jar from mid-air and swallowed them all at once.

“Give them to me,” she ordered. “And some water.”

With a seeming reluctance, the doctor gave her the jar and poured her a paper cup of icy cold water by the sink. Chrysalis, meanwhile, unscrewed the lid and looked feverishly upon the many large, blood red capsules inside.

“How many?”

“Four in the morning, four before you go to bed.”

She snatched the cup, popped two capsules in her mouth and took a long drink. She swirled the water about, allowed the pills to dissolve a bit, waiting until she could taste the bitterness before swallowing. She had stop to catch her breath, before doing the same thing with another two capsules. The doctor watched on as she did this, his face slowly scrunching up in concern.

“My Queen...” he began tentatively, rubbing his shrivelled hooves together. “I trust you have not been taking more than I recommend for you. These pills are highly addictive and have serious side effects like mood swings.”

“Noted, doctor,” she said sharply, taking another sip of water to rid herself of the bitter aftertaste.

He immediately bowed apologetically. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, it is just that these pills have a bit of notoriety about them. They are outlawed in certain countries.”

“Well, then I trust in your capabilities not to give your Queen an overdose.” Chrysalis felt the burning sensation shoot up her back as she got down from the table, the pills not yet taking affect, which she tucked into her kimono. “Before I go, can you look at one more thing?”

“Of course.”

Hesitantly, the Queen craned her head, letting her thinning mane down before him. The doctor did not have to ask what the problem was.

“Oh, Your Majesty, such a problem is common with Aging.” He bit his tongue when he heard a threatening growl escape her throat. “Um, that and stress, a lot of stress.”

She groaned, flicking back her mane and straightening back up. “What can you do?”

“All I suggest for that is engaging in less stressful activities, like more sleep and--”

“Thank you, doctor.”

With that and a pat on her kimono to know her pills were safe, Chrysalis turned to leave the examination room. But when she reached out her hoof to open the door, she was shocked when it suddenly fwooshed open.

“Your Majesty!”

It was Cerci standing there in the doorway, accompanied by another nanny, the younger one whose care she temporarily left Pupa. They were both appeared positively distraught. Cerci looked the worst. All the colour had drained from her face, leaving it a sickly pale grey; her mane was a mess with several strands falling over her face, and she was clutching her tight chest as she inhaled like a tired old mule on his last leg.

Chrysalis did not have to be a master of reading facial expressions to know something terrible had happened.

“What happened?” she asked, eyes widening. She had this horrible feeling she already knew.

Cerci roughly grabbed her younger counterpart and shoved her towards Chrysalis, shouting with a renewed sense of rage, “Tell her!”

“Tell me what?!”

The younger nanny tried to tell her, but the words came out jumbled and incoherent. “The Princess! She--she, I mean… I just went out for a second and—I mean, she was busy drawing... and… and--”

“SPIT IT OUT!”

“Cerci lost your daughter.”

“YOU WHAT?!” she practically squawked.

Cerci, on the other hoof, looked repulsed by her subordinate’s claim. “I lost her?! You little--”

“See?”

In a flash of bright bilious green, the two insectoid mares were flung and pinned up against the wall in the hallway, the force of it nearly knocking a few overhanging paintings off their hooks. They clung to each other, physically shrinking when Chrysalis’ muzzle came inches from theirs.

The Queen’s eyes burned with the fiery intensity of the sun. Her teeth were barred, showing off every canine and molar that looked sharp enough to tear apart flesh like tissue paper. The tip of her horn was even glowing like an enormous green hot poker, and the two mares began sweating by the overwhelming heat radiating from it.

“This is the second time,” she said through gritted teeth. “The second time you’ve lost Pupa. Are you even aware of your incompetence!? If she gets hurt, so help me, Cerci...”

“I’m sorry, my Queen, we’ll find her, I promise!”

“Oh, shut up!” She roared, spittle firing over their faces. “I’m giving you an hour, Cerci! You hear me? You have one hour to have Pupa standing in front of me. And if you don’t...” Their muzzles were now pressed hard against each other. She lowered her voice to a chilling whisper, “Losing your job will be the least of your problems.”

She released them and they fell hard to the floor on their haunches.

“Now go! Find her! NOW!”

Neither mare needed to be told twice and galloped at full speed down the hallway, heading in the direction of the servants’ quarters to rally the search for the missing Princess.

Chrysalis remained there in the hallway for a moment or two, her mind still processing what had transpired. This... was the last thing she needed today. The meetings, the army, her medication, and now this!

“Aaaaaaaggghhh!” Her hooves flew up to the sides of her head as an intense pain suddenly shot through the inside of her skull. The pain was so excruciating, she let her upper abdomen to fall on the floor and kept her head covered as her hind legs were kept up straight.

After several minutes, the pain subsided and she forced herself back up to all fours. Cold sweat was running down her face and a loud, thumping pulse made its way onto the side of her neck. When were those damn pills going to come into effect?

Blam! She opened her eyes again and saw with amazement through the fading green haze the smouldering, burnt remains of what was a marble bust of her great grandmother. A magical discharge. She had not had one of those since she was a teenager.

Check the destruction of a priceless family heirloom to the list.

Chrysalis backed up against the wall, horrified. It was all too much. Chocking back a sob, the Changeling Queen collapsed to the floor, pulling up her hind legs and finally allowed the tears to come rolling down her cheeks.

Author's Note

(a/n) Hello all, I just want to start off with a massive apology for how long it's taken to write this chapter. I'm afraid I've had a bit of writer's block with this story for a while, that and how I'm also working on other projects. Still, nearly two months is way too long and I can assure you, I'm over my block, have found new inspiration and am more clean in the direction this story is going. So expect updates more frequently.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's in the next when things get intense.

Chapter Five

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Five

Pupa was actually quite safe. The tiny Princess had crawled her way through the palace, making her way up to her mother’s chamber. She had been here and other not exactly permitted places in the palace some times before, like the other day when she ran out of paper and decided to take some from her mother’s desk; she certainly regretted doing that now. Perhaps now she could make up for it.

Pupa pushed the shoji door open by fitting her tiny horn through the crack and giving the hardest push to the left she could. She landed on her belly against the smooth, richly decorated carpet, her crumpled picture still clutched firmly between her teeth. She got back up and crawled further into the room and took a better look of her surroundings.

It always struck her how her simple and plain her mother's chamber looked; her own room even appeared more royal in comparison. She never understood why her mother had her room like this, but did not care enough to question it.

Her mother’s bed caught her attention, with its grand size and soft, decorative covers welcoming her to approach. A big, eager grin spreading across her face, she crawled over as fast she could to it and began grasping at the sheets to pull herself up. It took her a minute before she managed to clamber on top of the bouncy mattress. She giggled uncontrollably as the springiness of the mattress bounced her up and down.

Noticing that her picture was now laying on her round belly, the filly picked it up and looked for somewhere to put it. She spotted the large white pillow at the other end of the bed and set it down there, where it blended in quite nicely.

Pupa spent the next five minutes bouncing about the bed, making an utter mess of the purple covers. It was so much fun she forgot completely about how she was supposed to be back in the round room and her drawing and colouring. She eventually bounced too high and landed right on the edge. She held tight onto the covers as she fell to the floor; they did well to break her fall and stop her from hurting herself.

Her little head poked from out of the pile, frazzled and dazed. She fell back onto the carpet in a hysterical fit.

Chrysalis stormed around the claustrophobically small sitting room, the heavy stomps of her hooves wearing into the old wooden floorboards. Her mane was becoming a mess the more she paced with locks falling over her face and a pulse was visible in her huge, bug-like eyes. None of the lights were lit, leaving the room in total darkness if not for the moonlight shining through the open window and the green glow of the Queen’s eyes.

Only two servants stood in the sitting room with her: two females, standing side-by-side, fear written over their faces. They felt like they were trapped in a tiger cage for at any moment they could be ripped to shreds, or more appropriately, blasted to smithereens.

It had been approximately forty-five minutes since it was announced the Princess was missing and the entire palace was in a state of chaos as they searched high and low for her. The staff were not entirely clear on what they feared more; the prospect that they would not be able to find her or their Queen’s unholy wrath.

There was a knock at the door, and Chrysalis’ head snapped in its direction with the sharp reflexes of a cobra. One of the servants flew over to the door and slid it open to reveal a guard standing there, his downcast face telling all they needed to know.

“Your Majes--”

“Have you found her or not?” she interrupted him, her tongue as sharp as a razor blade.

“N… no.”

Silence. Chrysalis stared down at the floor, her mane now covering her face like a drawn curtain. Her legs were shaking like they would give out any moment.

“We’re currently searching the dining room and the West Wing, and--”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“I’m sorry--?”

She raised her head, two green holes burning through the cerulean mane. The effect struck terror in the full grown, hardened guard’s heart.

“You heard me,” she said acidly, her voice quivering and she pointed up at the ticking clock hanging on the wall. “You all have fifteen minutes. Now get out.”

The guard bowed and slunk off, and the same servant slid the door shut, bracing herself for the worst.

The Queen did not break out into a rage. Instead, she just went back to pacing around the room, slower this time and without the same air of repressed anger. It looked like she was done with yelling and shouting for one night, until she lifted a table carrying a silver tea set and flung it across the room. It smashed into a wall, splintering the wood and scattering the silver (along with the piping hot tea) loudly against the floor.

This went for the next five minutes. The Queen jumped and flew around the room, picking up whatever pieces of furniture she could get her hooves on and tossing and smashing them like toys. She did not scream, cry, or even scowl; she allowed her actions to speak for her. The servants stood still, trying all they could not to flinch as several pieces of furniture nearly struck them.

Chrysalis stopped when she threw another table on its side, sending the papers stacked on top flying. She caught some in mid-air and started ripping them to shreds when it suddenly clicked in her head.

These papers. They were official documents, the same kind as hers Pupa drew all over. Ones she only could have possibly got her little hooves on from her...

She dropped the paper and, without saying a word; spun around, shoved past the servants and stormed out of the room.

Pupa had grown bored with her mother’s bed and steered her attention to the large desk, searching for something to play with there.

The Princess was disappointed when she climbed onto the stool to find a bundle more paperwork like last time. Remembering the incident earlier that day, she figured it best to just toss them on the floor in a mounting pile instead of using them for doodling. She never knew her mother had so many of these, or why for that matter.

She finally found something worthy of her interest: a tall red heavy bottle with a cork in the top. She eyed the dark bubbling contents curiously and remembered how she was a bit thirsty.

Using her little fang to pry out the cork, she inhaled the aroma but her muzzle wrinkled at the foul smell. Regardless, she carefully tilted the neck to her lips, only to gag violently at the equally nasty taste. She lost her grip on the bottle and it dropped to the floor.

The bottle shattered into a thousand tiny shards and the liquid created a deathly hiss as it consumed the papers in a bubbling pink froth with large bubbles rising from the centre.

Now look what you’ve done.

Mother will be furious.

Pupa grimaced at the mess and covered her ears at the sudden return of the voices. Why would they please not just go away?!

She recoiled back on the stool, only to end up knocking over a small open bottle of ink by mistake. It got all over the desk and spoiled all the remaining papers and began dripping down the sides. She gasped in horror.

You’ve ruined it.

This time, she saw where the voice was coming from. It was a deep, gurgling voice resonating from the bubbles rising from the ink on the desktop.

You ruin everything.

You are ungrateful.

Panicking, she tried to clean it up, but all she got was ink stains spoiling the sleeves of her kimono.

You will be punished.

You’re worthless.

“There you are!”

All the other voices went silent and the bubbling pink and black puddles suddenly ceased. That last voice was not in Pupa’s head. She turned around. What she saw nearly made her jump out of her fur.

Chrysalis stood hunched over in what were the remains of the doorway, torn paper and splintered wood littered around her hooves. She was barely standing as her legs were ready to buckle from her sprint up the stairs of the palace; if the pulses in her neck and forehead were beating any harder they would burst.

The Queen held her raw, pounding chest and steadied herself before she collapsed from exhaustion, but her malevolent eyes were kept on her young issue. “You...” she wheezed, coughing a few times and standing up properly. “What are you doing in my... in my...”

She trailed off when she had the chance to actually take a look around her room, from the ruined bed, to the destroyed papers on the floor, to her ink covered desk and finally to her daughter sitting up on the stool. Her twitching eyes went wide enough they looked ready to pop right out of their sockets, while her jaw could not drop any more lower.

“Wha... you... WHAT DID YOU DO?!!”

Her scream was so loud the furniture in the room shook in their place. Pupa, unable to answer, shivered like a leaf and curled up on the stool, ears pressed back and hoping right now that she would just vanish.

Chrysalis’ stunned expression quickly contorted to pure hatred. For one day, just one day, she had had enough.

“You... you...”

Pupa whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut, her ears unable to physically lay back any further.

“COME HERE!”

Pupa felt herself violently yanked off the stool by the ear, knocking it over in the process, and dragged along the floor through the icky pink mess. She stopped in front of her mother’s legs and was jerked up in the air. It all happened so fast, she did not have time to register her mother’s large hoof swing at her face.

Crack! The sound of the vicious slap resounded as Pupa dropped back to the floor with a painful thud. Her cheek stung horribly like it had been struck by a burning hot object. She held her little thigh, feeling a large bruise forming.

She wanted to cry out in pain for Cerci, but Cerci was no longer here to protect her. Her mother’s sudden outburst rendered her stunned silent. She just laid there wide-eyed, lip trembling as her mother raged at her, looking ready to throw her hoofs around her neck and start strangling. Never had Pupa seen her this way. Worst of all, she was trapped like a defenceless animal, the subject of this ferocious mare’s warpath.

Chrysalis knew she could have just left it here, but she did not want to. She was far from done. All the anger, all the mane-pulling frustration, she could feel it all boiling deep inside her bloating stomach and splitting skull. How they threatened to erupt like a volcano! She had to let it all out now before that long awaited aneurysm took her.

“You little idiot! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” she yelled as she towered over the filly, sticking her flushing green muzzle right up into hers and baring her monstrous fangs. “You’ve had everyone worried sick, you selfish bucking brat!”

The terrified Princess gurgled, trying her best to say ‘I’m sorry’ again, but Chrysalis would hear none of it.

“SHUT UP! Don’t you dare try apologizing! All you’ve done today nearly gave me a heart attack! What the buck is wrong with you?! Do you enjoy making me more stressed than I already am?! Do you think that’s funny!?”

Pupa felt the force of her mother’s voice against her face, blowing her mane like it were in a wind tunnel. A dam of tears was building up behind her eyelids, ready to burst.

“I provide for you! I have you fed! I have you cleaned! If it weren’t for me you’d be dead!” Chrysalis howled, getting progressively closer and snapping jaw’s inches from her daughter’s face, forcing her to crawl backwards. “And this is how you treat your own mother in return?! I’m working my hooves to the bone, trying to make things better for you, but you... all you do is lie around and drool!”

She stopped for a second and her glare faltered, staring right into her little girl’s moist eyes. For a moment, it appeared she realized she had gone too far. But then she laughed a little, pulling herself back and putting on a smile. Pupa knew it was not a kind, comforting smile; it was the kind that she wore as a mask to cover up how furious she really was. She had seen her use it many a time just before she would sentence a changeling to death.

“You know something, sweetie?” Chrysalis chuckled and placed a hoof under Pupa’s chin, tilting her head up and forcing her to look at her. “All mommy ever wanted was a nice, normal daughter who could take over her kingdom when she’s gone. But what did I get instead?” she continued sweetly. Then, her smile vanished as her face decomposed into that same hateful scowl and pointed her shaking hoof between her eyes accusingly. “I got YOU! You’re a stupid, inbred waste of space! You don’t deserve your “birthright”! Do you understand that?! YOU’RE WORTHLESS!”

By now the tears were pouring fluidly from Pupa’s eyes. She could literally feel the pain inside her chest; it was her little heart breaking. Every cruel, vicious word her mother spat made her feel like she was being stabbed with a burning sword. She curled up into a ball and covered her head to make herself as small as possible.

“Well, I’ve had it with you! You’re not a Princess! You’re not my daughter! You’re nothing but an EMBARASSMENT!!” She screamed with fire spitting out of her mouth, but she retained her senses enough to see the quivering ball before her. She picked her up and magically forced her eyes open. “LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU!!!”

Slap. Chrysalis’ head barely twitched and the sting was non-existent, but she still looked petrified. She dropped her daughter immediately and she touched the cheek the filly hit. The little one glared at her through her squinted eyes that were now red with tears. Never had Pupa dared raise a diddy hoof to her mother, except tonight.

That was it. All Chrysalis could see was red. The only thing she felt was the primal to desire to throttle her offspring.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

Roaring bloody murder like a savage beast, Chrysalis smashed the helpless filly across the head, the sheer force sending her scattering across the floor like a lifeless rag doll. She pounced on her, her wild legs striking down again, and again, and again on the form of the helpless filly, who could do nothing by cry out desperately for help. Chrysalis drowned out the cries, her whole world having gone silent. Even the morbid thudding sounds of beating her daughter were death in her ears.

Chrysalis suddenly felt something heavy jump on her back, grab her by the neck and try to pull her off the filly. Sound returned to her.

“STOP IT! STOP IT! GET OFF HER!”

She shook her head wildly, green sparks shooting out her horn like fireworks, throwing whatever it was off her back. She looked behind and saw a hysterical Cerci with a look of absolute horror on her face, staring mouth agape down at the Queen’s hooves.

The red faded from Chrysalis’ eyes and she felt the cold sweat on her face, matting the locks of her mane. She looked down and what she saw made her gawk in horror. The rage simmering still inside her extinguished and an inaudible gasp escaped her throat.

Pupa laid there drenched and motionless in a ghastly puddle of green. Her eyes were half-closed, but twitching under the lids. The horrid green substance oozed from the enormous gashes on her temple and crown, staining her fur and mane and dying her once pretty lilac kimono a sickly green. The Princess was practically swimming in her own blood.

Chrysalis looked from Pupa to her own hooves. They were completely caked in it, so were her legs all up to the knees. It was even splattered on her face!

Reality came crashing down on her like a flaming wreckage. Her baby... WHAT HAD SHE DONE TO HER BABY!

The Queen threw herself at her mangled daughter’s barely conscious form. She scooped her up dripping from the blood puddle, cradling her close against her breast, kissing her blood drenched face and frantically trying to stop the bleeding.

“Cerci...” She chocked, her own tears falling down against her battered filly’s face like heavy rain. “Get help! Go!”

Cerci forced herself up and galloped out of the room, not waiting until she was even out the room to start crying hysterically for aid.

Chrysalis sat there in the wreckage of the royal chamber, unceasingly cradling and kissing Pupa. It was all she could think to do.

A pained, laboured moan emanated from the still filly's lips.

“Shhhhhh. I’m here.” She put her hoof to her cheek, holding her tight. “Shhhhhh.”

A million thoughts ran through the Queen's tortured mind. She could focus only on one that replayed again and again like a broken record.

‘Kami above, forgive me! Please, forgive me!’

Author's Note

(a/n) This is the chapter I have been waiting to do ever since I started this fanfiction. It's one of the most important, if not the most important, as it sets the tone for the rest of the story. Everything else that happens spawns from this key, emotionally charged and yes, I will admit, heart-wrenching chapter.

Also, if you want to know some of my inspiration for this chapter, here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:REPIN_Ivan_Terrible%26Ivan.jpg

Chapter Six

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Six

King Cocoon Hospital was renowned as one of the finest, as well as oldest and expensive hospitals in the Changeling Kingdom. It was constructed two hundred years ago by the honourable intellectual King Cocoon II, one of many proud testaments to the wise King’s revival of the capital into a cleaner, wealthier and larger modern city, standing so tall it pierced the sky and became a permanent addition to the city skyline. It was originally built exclusively for the nobility and other “crème de la crème” (a phrase Princess Danauria often used) and as the centuries passed, it gained world recognition by its visit from world leaders including Diamond Dog presidents, Griffin Kaisers and even Princess Celestia, whom was said to have checked in years ago after picking up a stomach virus on a state visit, though it has never been officially confirmed. Nowadays, it found itself increasingly visited by the slow growing changeling middle class who could afford their fees.

Yet from the perspective of history students at home and abroad, the hospital’s true fame derived from its paying witness to numerous violent events from Changeling history. It was stormed and its supplies raided by frenzied citizens during violent riots triggered by the Great Famine. It was again stormed and occupied by Animalist rebels during the movement’s brief yet violent attempted revolution in the kingdom, who fought to the last changeling against the army, who in turn took the building back level-by-level in a matter of two days. When Prime Minister Mandible was being treated here for an eye infection, an unstable mental patient took a scalpel and fatally stabbed the stallion in the neck.

The staff and administration of this fine institution were trained to carry out their services and handle the worst case scenarios with the greatest integrity and professionalism possible. When they arrived to work that morning, they were expecting a relatively normal day ahead, them having to only deal with some arrogant, self-absorbed nouveaux riche at the very worst, silently tending to their needs while they prattled on about their five-star cruise around the Fillypines.

So you could just imagine the shock on their faces that night when the royal guards came barrelling through the entrance doors with so much force they sent them flying off their hinges.

Several nurses and patients gasped and screamed at the terrifying sight of dozens of armoured changelings storming into the hospital, all of them holding their spears up in an intimidating manner. It looked at first like they were being raided and some changelings dropped to the floor, their hooves flying over their heads and crying; a fear dispelled when a mare came flying through a clearing made by the guards, her kimono dripping green with blood and carrying a large, completely blood drenched bundle in her forelegs.

“Get a doctor! We need help!” Cerci cried, halting in front of a gathering crowd of nurses. “Please! Hurry!”

The nurses were at first stunned by the shocking scene developing all around them, but seeing the bloodied bundle in the mare’s legs, the size indicating straight away it was a child, their training kicked in and they surrounded Cerci, while others rushed to get a stretcher for the injured young one.

“Give us the child,” demanded one of the nurses, roughly snatching the bundle from Cerci’s shaking legs and setting it down on the stretcher. They hurriedly removed the bloodied cloths and when they finished, many of them gasped loudly, having to step back and make sure what they saw before them was real.

It was the Princess. Not just any one of the many princesses that made up half the royal family; this was the Princess, their future Queen, Pupa Roachanov. The nurses could make out her distinguishable features, however battered and bloody they were.

Few official photographs had been publicly released of the Crown Princess of the Changeling Kingdom, the ones that were mostly being from annual family photographs and the exceptionally rare public appearance. The Changeling royal family was never as public as their Equestrian counterparts, but even by their standards, Princess Pupa was a figure of mystery to the world outside the palace walls. To see her up-close and in person was already extremely rare, but to see her as she was now, then it did not matter how much training these nurses had; nothing could have prepared them for this.

Princess Pupa’s body was almost completely painted in green, save for the occasional grey patch that was quickly turning into a sickly white, like a bloated dead fish, the more blood she lost. The two gashes on her head were badly wrapped up to in an effort to stem the bleeding, but they were clearly not working. There were signs of life from the filly; her laboured breathing, movement behind her shut eyes and the occasional twitch of one of her legs.

“Stand aside! Let me through!” a middle-aged, sharply dressed doctor scuttled through the crowd of nurses, who were swarming around Pupa’s stretcher. He adjusted his glasses and looked her over carefully and like his co-workers, recognized her immediately. “My gods...” He snapped his head at Cerci. “What happened to her? Quickly, tell me!”

Cerci knew she was forbidden from telling them the truth and the consequences if she did. “There… there was an accident!” she stammered. “She’s got gashes on her head! She’s lost so much blood! P-Please, just help her!”

Although the doctor did not seem entirely satisfied with this answer, time was a serious factor. He glared at two orderlies in the crowd and barked, “Do not just stand around! Get the Princess into A&E! We must treat the wounds and prepare her for a blood transfusion! GO! GO!”

In an instant, the orderlies and nurses got around the stretcher and hauled it as fast they could, out through the double doors leading to A&E, the doctor following after them. Cerci watched as they disappeared behind the swinging doors, wanting earnestly to chase after them and be with her little one, but she was stopped by the remaining nurses.

“We’re sorry, but you must stay here."

“Please, I’m the Princess’ carer! She’s just a filly; I have to be with her!”

“I understand, but only members of staff are allowed past this point.”

The insectoid mare felt her veins pump with fury. “How dare you! I work directly for the royal family! Now let me through! She needs me!”

“Madame, please, calm down.”

“Calm?! You want me to be calm?!” Cerci was now screaming in the nurses’ faces, her horn glowing threateningly, looking ready to blast a hole right through one of them. “I’ll show you bucking calm!”

She felt a firm hoof over her shoulder and forcibly pulled her away from the frightened nurses, another hoof covering her mouth. It was a guard, his dark purple armour indicating a higher rank than the others.

“Cerci, enough!” he grunted as he took her kicking and squirming aside. “This won’t help anything!”

“No!”

Fresh hot tears were trickling out the corners of Cerci’s eyes, her composure collapsing like a fragile tower of cards. She kept kicking and screaming at him to let her go, but he only tightened his grip. When she finally stopped resisting, he released her and let her drop to the floor in a sobbing wreck.

The guard rolled his eyes in disgust and gave one of the nurses a look telling her to tend to her. The nurse reluctantly broke away from the group, went over to help Cerci up to her hooves and led the distraught mare away in the direction of the canteen.

‘Damn mares.’

“Lieutenant.”

That harsh, baritone voice caused the guard to turn around and saw a much taller, huskier guard marching through the destroyed entrance and, the guards’ clearing while every guard in the room stood at attention upon his arrival. He was covered head to tail in large, yet not clunking purple armour emblazoned with intricate golden patterns. Over one eye he wore a black patch and down the other side of his face from the brow to across the cheek was a large white scar.

“Captain Beetle, sir,” he said, bowing before the veteran, seasoned Captain of the royal guard, who bowed in return.

“Has the area been secured?” his deep, gravelling voice carried with it the kind of imposing authority expected from the royal guard. When he spoke, every guard stood at attention, ready to take their orders.

“Yes, sir.”

“And the Princess?”

“They have taken her in for treatment. I… do not know anything on her condition.”

“Very well,” the Captain took out a small scroll and gave it to the lieutenant. “I have new orders for you and your fellow guards.”

The Lieutenant read the scroll carefully. He raised an eyebrow, asking, “Are we permitted to use force?”

The Captain waved his hoof indifferently. “If you think they are a journalist, do as you see fit. I am sure I do not need to explain to you how much the palace wants this whole affair strictly under wraps. Now, excuse me for I must speak to the doctor. But…” He began to walk away from him, but momentarily stopped to lean close and whisper sternly in his ear, “... try to avoid killing anychangeling this time. Now go.”

The two guards bowed each to each other again and the Lieutenant, a sinister grin working its way onto his mouth, made his way out of the room, signalling on the way a group of guards who followed after him.

Captain Beetle stood around for the next ten minutes, waiting for the doctor to return. A nurse came up to him, asking if he needed anything, and he asked for a coffee. She went off to get it for him, and though he stood still and kept a blank face, he made sure he got a good long look at her fine, tight rump out the corner of his eye.

“Captain Beetle.”

He looked behind and saw the doctor entering through the double door and the two bowed to each other. The doctor had small blood splatters on his pristine white coat, but his demeanour remained calm and collected. He had obviously been in the profession for so many years now that the sight of blood, regardless of whose, no longer fazed him. In a way, that was something the two changeling stallions shared.

“What is the news, doctor? But spare me the technospeak. Keep it short and straight.”

“Fair enough,” the doctor sighed, and magicked a clipboard before his vision. “Straight up, not good. Not good at all. The Princess has sustained severe injuries and has lost a lot of blood. We may very well need donations.”

“Isn’t that what you have reserves for? I thought you had tones in the freezer from the royals.”

“We can only store blood for a certain amount of time, Captain. We need fresh blood.”

He looked down on him, unimpressed. “Then you’ll be glad to know the Queen is on her way to the hospital, this moment. You’ll have all the blue blood you want.”

“Excellent,” said the doctor, taking down some notes. “We’ll prepare for the procedure.”

The same nurse from earlier returned with Beetle’s coffee, which the Captain drank slowly so he did not scold his tongue. He then looked around, getting an understanding of those who were within earshot.

“Doctor…” Beetle said, lowering his voice as he took the doctor aside. “Between you and I, what is your opinion, in terms of chances?”

“You mean the Princess?”

“Yes.”

His professional facade began to show cracks for the first time as he sighed heavily, “Nothing can be said for certain at this time, Captain. We’ve only just taken her in, and like I said, her injuries are severe. We have her stabilized but she…” He bit down on his lip, as if fear was preventing him from saying anything else. “We will discuss the rest with the royal family. Strictly hospital policy, I’m sure you understand.”

“Fine,” the Captain grumbled, turning around to leave the lobby. “I will go and prepare for Her Majesty’s arrival--what? Ugh!” He looked down and stepped back in disgust when he saw he had stepped in a large puddle of blood. Normally, it would not have bothered him, except here he had a good idea whose it was. “For the love of the Kami… doctor!”

“You two!” He barked at the two nearest orderlies. “Clean this up before the Queen arrives!”

Both orderlies got right to work, using chemical sprays and wet cloths. But no matter how hard they tried, the drying stains proved difficult to remove, especially where they had sunken into the cracks of the pearly white floor tiles.

The double doors flew open, and a nurse stuck head out, looking flustered and beckoning the changeling in the white coat, “Doctor, quick! We need your help! It’s an emergency!”

“Pardon me, Captain,” the doctor groaned, shoulders slumped and bowing to the Captain. “Duty calls.” With that, he marched out of the lobby and through the doors to deal with whomever’s life depended on his rare and valued skills.

She was drowning in an endless sea of darkness, too weak and crushed under its weight to kick her little legs. She could see nothing but the darkness. Her ears felt like they were filled with water, muffling out the sounds she could best identify as other changelings talking, but. The strangest thing was she could definitely feel something. Something invisible caressing her in a warm, soothing embrace.

She had never felt this way before. She did not wonder where she was or whether something was wrong, she just felt so peaceful.

A glow appeared all of a sudden in the darkness. It looked like the tiny flicker of a bedside candle light, slowly growing brighter. The more she stared at it, the more relaxed she became, and the muffled sounds and the soft caress began to fade.

Then all of a sudden, the glow changed a bright white, flashing over her eyes again and again. Something tight and uncomfortable formed around her chest and legs, much unlike the caress she enjoyed so much. The sound in her ears began to grow, this time clearer and more distressed.

Still, she understood not what was happening or if she was in trouble, until something cold pressed against her lips, and a gush of air blew down her throat, and she knew no more…

For the nurses of King Cocoon Hospital, the sight of the battered and bleeding body of the mysterious Princess Pupa would be enough to make them to do a double take or think they needed an eye check-up at the very best. But to see the Queen, their supreme leader and the face of their nation and their species, slumped down ungracefully in a chair, her legs and kimono smeared with blood, and wearing an expression that read positively catatonic would make them question whether they had completely lost their minds.

Yet there she was, sitting there in the lobby, encircled by Captain Beetle and a platoon of guards to make sure she was safe. Her sister, Princess Danauria was sitting there by her side, doing whatever she could to comfort the older sister, who just kept shrugging her off. The skeletal Princess looked distraught as well; she had already badly chewed on her freshly done hooves and her makeup had started running down her cheeks.

Chrysalis silently stared down into the piping cup of tea one of the nurses gave her. She got a look at her reflection: she was a bedraggled mess. Wet locks of her cerulean mane were still clung to her sore, tear drenched face. Her skin was paled from the blood she had just donated to her poor filly. She forced the cup to her lips and took a draught, the contents slightly scorching the inside of her mouth.

“Your Majesty,” Dr Kemushi, the mare head doctor of the hospital who stood over her spoke calmly, but with a degree of nervousness tinting her words. “Your daughter has been stabilized and we are treating and disinfecting her wounds, but she still remains unconscious. It was a good thing she was brought here when she was, otherwise I don’t think she would have been so lucky.”

“Will she be alright?” Danauria asked on her sister’s behalf.

“If all goes well, she should pull through.” A look of dread came over her face, indicating she knew how the next bit of news would not be well received by the royal pair. “But we can’t yet be sure the extent of internal damage, especially to the brain.”

Brain damage. The prospect her baby was going to be even more permanently damaged than she already was shook the war hardened Changeling Queen’s foundations. She looked down and closed her eyes, fresh tears she had been fighting to hold back now streaming silently down her face. She felt her stomach lurch, like she was going to be sick.

“YOU!”

She recognized that voice. She opened her eyes and looked up just in time to see Cerci leap through the wall of guards and punch her as hard as she could across the face. The others gasped, horrified as the sheer blow sent their Queen to the floor, wailing and holding her face in pain.

“MONSTER! YOU MONSTER!” The nanny, or rather former nanny, screamed in an unbridled rage and leaped at Chrysalis, using whatever energy she had left from this horrible night to thrash the Queen who had hurt the one she loved the most, punching her, scratching her and pulling at her mane. “I’LL KILL YOU!”

“Get her off me! Get her off!” Chrysalis screamed, struggling to throw off the murderous mare. The guards and Danauria were already on her and eventually managed to pry her off their Queen. Chrysalis crawled back, trembling like a whipped dog, trying to get as far away from this mad mare as she could.

“How could you? How could you?! She’s your daughter! And you-- you MAULED her! You-- get your hooves off me!” Cerci flailed wildly in the guards’ grasp, her lashing and kicking now directed at them. One guard got a swift kick to the jaw and Beetle received a mouthful of spit in his face. She was a much stronger mare than she appeared. She continued shouting at the Queen, “She loves you! How could you do this to your own filly?!” At that moment, Chrysalis saw in her eyes the murderous fury she herself had displayed less than an hour ago. “Pupa could DIE because of YOU!”

Chrysalis looked up pitifully at the servant whom she had abused on a daily basis, struggling and screaming profanities at her, too shaken and overwhelmed by everything that had happened. On any other night, she would have had Cerci executed on the spot, but tonight… she knew she had no right, nor could she expect her to give quarter. She had enacted enough wanton cruelty for one night. Chrysalis actually felt like wanting to comfort the mare. She understood her genuine care for Pupa, something she had shown throughout the latter’s brief life; Cerci was showing the raw anger and grief only the mother of an injured filly could possibly feel.

“You filthy peasant!” Danauria snapped outraged, stepping forward and giving Cerci a vicious slap. “How dare you lay a hoof on my sister! Your Queen! And you have the GALL to accuse her--!”

“Yes she did, you stuck-up COW!” She spat, getting right in the gaudy Princess’ face, their horns scraping and teeth bared to the gums. She pointed at the emotionally wrecked Queen on the floor. “You did this to her! YOU’VE KILLED HER!”

“LIAR!”

By now, Cerci had broken free of the guards and she and Danauria were clawing at each other in a wild foray like two savage harpies. It took half a dozen guards and the orderlies to finally separate the two, both of whom had their share of cuts and scratches. One orderly took a small syringe and injected it into Cerci’s neck.

“NO! LET ME GO! SHE KILLED HER! SHE KILLED MY BABY!” Cerci wailed, tears pouring uncontrollably and her body going limp as the guards carried her away and out of sight.

“ARREST HER!” Danauria yelled at the guards, restrained only by two exceptionally strong orderlies. Her attention then turned to her sister, who pulled herself to her weak, shaking legs, back arched and head held low. “Sister! Are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” Chrysalis grunted quietly, holding her throbbing jaw and spitting out some blood and spittle. Cerci certainly had one mean left hook. “I think she may’ve broken my jaw.” That or she chipped a tooth.

Danauria wrapped her forelegs around her sister and pulled her into a hug, only now Chrysalis did not resist her. Right now, she could use some sisterly comfort, even if she did not deserve it.

“Don’t worry,” she hushed, stroking her mane. “I’ll see to it the little peasant is punished.”

“No,” Chrysalis said firmly, pulling away from her. She stammered, "N-No, Danauria. She’s upset.” She turned away, not bearing to look her in the face. “She has every right to be...”

The younger sister could not believe her ears. “Chrysalis, she punched you! You’re the Queen--”

“And maybe I deserved it!”

“Are you even listening to yourself?! That crazy mare said you... that you...” Danauria trailed off midsentence as she took time to process what Cerci said and the look of utter shame that became increasingly visible on her sister’s face. “Sister, you would never do such a thing…" Chrysalis turned her head away again, trying to avert her gaze. The younger sister pulled her back, looking pleadingly into her large, harlequin eyes. "Chrysalis, please, tell me you didn’t--”

“I’m so sorry, Daury.”

Not waiting for her to respond, Chrysalis stepped away from her sister and slowly trekked her way out of the lobby, the sense of guilt and self-loathing hanging over the now broken monarch. Danauria wanted to go after her, but Beetle put a hoof on her shoulder, shaking his head. Only a small group of guards followed after the Queen, only for the sake of protocol.

A dreadful silence filled the lobby. You could literally hear the tiniest of pins clatter against the tiles.

Danauria did not know what to do, what to say. She was still having trouble taking this all in. When she saw Pupa being carried out of the palace, bleeding to death and with the appearance of having been crushed like a cockroach by a large rock, she screamed and would have flown her to the hospital herself if not for Cerci keeping the filly firmly in her legs and beating off anychangeling who tried to take her from her.

The thought that Chrysalis, her beloved older sister, even with her horrid temperament and tendency to act irrationally, could do that to her most favourite niece…

If the things that Cerci said were true, Danauria would surely die on the inside.

“Your Highness, is there anything we can do?” Beetle asked apprehensively, walking up behind her. Danauria looked back at him, and she leaped into the behemoth guard’s legs, permitting a tidal wave of emotions pour into his chest.

Inwardly, Beetle groaned. He did not become captain of the royal guard for this.

“Hmmm.”

Discord lowered his chocolate milked-filled champagne goblet in his eagle claw, his feral yellow eyes firmly shut and frowning supposedly in deep thought. He sat back in his extensively tall throne in his castle throne room, pulling his goat leg over his lizard one.

The yellow pegasi sitting next to him noticed his sudden change in demeanour.

“What… what is it?” she stammered.

He opened his eyes and clicked his tongue, “That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“Trouble’s a brewing in the East,” he stated simply, taking another overly sophisticated sip of his drink. “Be a dear and contact Canterlot castle for me, Fluttershy. Use that little dragon speed dial you and your friends use. I think I need to talk with dear old Princess Celestia.”

“O… okay.” Fluttershy arose from her seat and instead of worming her way through the sea of partying guests, went out through the back door in search of Spike.

Discord released his goblet, letting it hang in mid-air for a moment. He clapped his paw and claw and a gargoyle's mouth, situated above his throne to the left, opened up and a stream of chocolate milk poured down into the glass, not spilling a single drop.

“Oh, DJ?” He spoke, retaking his goblet and holding it up high. “Let’s crank it up, shall we? I can barely feel my throne shake.”

Chapter Seven

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Seven

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Chrysalis was flying through the air at an incredible speed, a screaming grey and cerulean rocket over the Equestrian skies. Her legs flailed about helplessly, unable to regain control or slow herself down. The wind was whistling so loud in her ears, she could not make out the millions of thoughts racing through her head or even her screams of rage and anguish. Through the pinkish haze in her eyes she could see Canterlot castle, her precious war prize, shrinking into the distance until all she could see was a microscopic white speck, and the sight of her glorious army being scattered in all directions from the city.

She did not know when it would end; she was not slowing down and by now, she was probably going so fast that if she collided with something, it would likely kill her instantly. If anything, she would welcome it. She had been so close; the Princess was neutralized, the city was completely under her army’s occupation, and the one stallion who provided one of her biggest obstacles was under her control. It would have all come together... if not for that worthless unicorn. Twilight Sparkle! She would curse the name until the day she died! It was all because of her she was defeated by the skin of her fangs. Her victory, her imperial conquest, her honour, all snatched from her with a single magical pulse of love. LOVE! Her own food! To be defeated by love… it was the oldest cliché in the book!

Right now, death would be a mercy.

She felt a sudden burning sensation crawling all over skin, quickly engulfing her whole body, like somechangeling poured gallons of oil over her and set her alight. She looked herself over: her body was glowing bright red and cerulean mane burst into yellow and orange flames. She was burning up like a comet entering the planet’s atmosphere! The flames poured into her parted lips, cutting short her screams and proceeded to burn her from the inside. The pain became unbearable. She would have given anything right then and there for her life to just end.

Then everything went black.

Her body was no longer burning, nor was her mane ablaze. She actually felt herself enticed by a biting chilly breeze, enough to make her legs shiver and goosebumps rise under her fur. She opened her eyes and oddly enough, in the pitch black of wherever she was standing, she made out her perfectly intact and unharmed legs and mane, the latter hanging down the side of her face.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice shivering. No response, not even her own echo.

Was she dead? Was this what death was like? She had not thought about it a lot in her young, indolent life. What changeling of a healthy mind would spend their days mulling over something so depressing?

The frightening thought crawled into her weary head the longer she was there, forcing herself to walk forward, only to be met with more of the same darkness: was this really it? An endless, hollow black void where she was sentenced to spend the rest of eternity, existing but at the same time not?

She heard something. It was very quiet, only just reaching her ears. She stopped and cocked her ear, listening carefully; a filly was crying.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, trying to put on her boldest front but failing. “Show yourself!”

The crying grew louder and closer, but no matter where she turned, she could not find where it was coming from. When it sounded like the source of the crying was right next to her ears… it stopped, and the chilling silence returned. For one moment, believing it was gone and feeling genuinely safe, she heaved a sigh of relief. That was... until she heard it.

“Mommy...?”

Chrysalis felt her blood turn to ice. She turned around, looked down and had to hold back a scream.

“P-P... Pupa?”

It was her daughter, sprawled out and laying still on the ground, but she was not how Chrysalis remembered her. Her coat was coarse and rough, stained and clotted with old blood, and her flesh was badly rotting away, revealing in some places her tiny virgin white bones. Her half-open eyes were white and opaque instead of green, and her upper lip appeared to have been ripped off, revealing a set of rotted yellow teeth. Large, hoof-shaped gashes covered her body, all of them pumping out a nonstop flow of an aluminous green liquid that half-drowned the decomposing filly’s body in a sickly pond. Her royal kimono was reduced to the tattered remains of some loose garb more befitting a street urchin. To top off the stomach-churning effect, a swarm of flies buzzed around the decaying body, flying in an out of the exposed flesh, gorging themselves sick on their rancid feast.

Her baby...

“PUPA!” Chrysalis got down on her knees and furiously swatted the ravenous flies away from her little one. She reached in and pulled her out, even as the bilious green liquid badly burned her legs. She caressed her little head; her skin was freezing cold to the touch. She was stone dead.

“No... please, no,” she whimpered, her voice quivering and her squinched shut, but the tears were running freely regardless. “Please, Pupa, I’m... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! Don’t... don’t...” She broke down, rocking Pupa back and forth, weeping for the loss of her daughter.

“Mommy...?”

Chrysalis gasped. She stared down at Pupa’s face, but no words were coming from her mouth.

“Mommy!”

She spun around and this time, she was forced to scream out loud. It was another filly… only this one was younger and much more decomposed than her counterpart. Half her body was just a whittled, mottled skeleton, the other an assortment of tightly stretched, blood drained, peeling skin, barely clinging onto its owner. Her kimono was a greater wreck than Pupa’s, with almost no colour dye left visible. The most horrifying part was her mouth from which her lips had completely gone and which hung open and loose like a broken door hinge. To Chrysalis, it looked like something plucked from the deepest darkest region of her subconsciousness.

“Mommy,” the filly sniffled, her voice sounding like the noise dry leaves make as they rustle across a pavement, wiping tears leaking out her only functioning eye (the other had rotted from existence) with her rough, coarse sleeve. “Why did you leave me?”

The Queen regained herself, enough that she found herself able to whisper.

“Wh... who are you?”

At a snail’s pace, she walked to her... no, not walking. Walking needs some kind of will power and determination behind it. This filly was just moving.

From her slacked jaw emanated a disembodied wail straight from the pits of Tartarus. “Mommy, why did you leave me all alone?!”

Chrysalis’ jaw dropped and her pupils shrunk down to pinpricks. She instinctively held Pupa close, trying to shield her from harm and scrambled backwards on her haunches, trying to get away from this… thing. It was not possible! It could not be!

“No. NO! Stay back! Get away from us!”

“Mommy, what did you do to our sister?”

It was a different voice, belonging to a very young colt. Chrysalis looked over her shoulder and saw a colt, still in his grub form, but by appearance it was difficult to tell if he even was a changeling for almost all his flesh had deteriorated, leaving his bare bones. There was a massive hole on the crown of his skull, exposing the mount of dust that must have been his pulverized brain. He could not crawl on his belly and could only flounder on the spot like a stranded fish.

“Why isn’t she moving, Mommy? Is she dead?”

Chrysalis desperately wanted to look away from the abomination, but she could not. It was like a train wreck: no matter how horrifying it was, there was something about it that kept your eyes locked on.

“I... I…”

“She’s dead!” A third voice screeched. “Mommy got rid her because she was bored with her! Just like the rest of us!”

This hateful accusation really seemed to strike Chrysalis. “Th-that’s not true! I loved you all--”

It was too late. There were now more lurching out of the dark abyss by the second, dozens of decaying fillies and colts dressed in royal kimonos shambling towards her in a ravenous, moaning hoard. It was like something plucked straight out of one of those films that kept coming out of the Griffin Kingdom about the dead coming back to life and started attacking the local village. Now here they were and with eyes filled with hatred and sorrow, they had trapped her in a circle of death, their disembodied voices mixing together in morbid hymn of blood curdling mournful screaming.

“YOU DON’T LOVE US!”

“YOU ABANDONED US!!”

“No, I didn’t abandon y--”

“WHY, MOMMY? WHY?”

“WE HATE YOU!”

Chrysalis threw up a little in her mouth. The collective stench of their rotting flesh was overwhelming.

“NO!” She cried, holding Pupa against her breast and physically shrinking as they advanced, thunderous step by step, closing in, leaving her no room to escape. “PLEASE! PLEASE DON’T KILL ME! I’M YOUR MOMMY! I DO LOVE YOU! I DO LOVE YOU!”

"LIAR!” They chanted demonically over and over again. “ALL YOU DO IS LIE! LIE! LIE!"

“You lied, Mommy.”

She looked down, but this time the words had failed her. Pupa came alive, eyes flickering with poisonous green fire, staring right into her soul. Her exposed teeth creaked into what was supposed to be some sick, twisted smile.

“You always lie.”

Before Chrysalis could even blink, Pupa latched herself onto her neck and stuck her tiny but sharp fangs into her tender flesh. Chrysalis howled with agony and fell on her back, unable to throw her off. Pupa cackled malevolently, sucking the sweet, sweet love from her mother’s neck, splashing it all over muzzle.

The others joined in, swarming on top of her and biting into every inch of her flab like hundreds of giant angry fire ants flash eating a dead animal. She was buried within seconds, her screams muffled and her children’s collective weight stopping her from resisting them.

She knew this time she was truly doomed. She felt death approaching with each drop of her essence leeched by her children, the White Changeling of Death resting its hoof on her forehead.

“YOU HAVE FAILED, MY DAUGHTER.”

No. Please.

“D… Daddy? No, I haven’t!”

Her eyes peered through the hideous forms of her attacking children, and up high in the abyss she saw it. Two colossal, terrifying eyes obliterated the darkness with the intense glow of a bright green sun.

“YES! YOU HAVE BROUGHT DISHONOUR TO YOUR KINGDOM AND YOUR FAMILY!”

“SHUT UP!” Chrysalis screamed in despair.

“AND NOW YOU WILL BE PUNISHED FOR YOUR DISGRACE! GO, MY YOUNG ONES, PUNISH YOUR MOTHER!”

‘This is just a dream! It isn't real, it can’t be real!’ Her mind yelled, but the chanting ringing in her ears drowned it out, reducing it to a non-existent voice in a room of hundreds. The biting, the tearing of her flesh, her very soul being sucked up like love soup, it all felt so real. It had to be real! This was her end. The end of her long, difficult, miserable life. After all the things she did, the creatures she hurt, maybe it was the end she deserved.

At long last, she let out one last primal whine and in turn her final breath, having now accepted her fate...

And then she woke up.

It took her minutes to catch her breath and regain her senses. She was back in her royal chamber, lying on top of her bed. The candles were long snuffed out, leaving the room in pitch darkness. Everything was still a mess: the purple covers were still on the floor and the ink and frothy puddles of her paperwork had mostly dried up. She could not identify where all the blood was, it blended so well in the dark, but the putrefied metallic smell ran up her nostrils and made her gag.

Nochangeling else besides her had been inside her chamber since the... incident. She came straight back here from the hospital, ordering nochangeling to disturb her. Ignoring the wreckage around her, she flopped lifelessly against her ruined bed and fell right asleep. How long had she been sleeping? The pitch black in her small windows indicated it must have been very early morning at least.

The doors creaked and a thin ray of light entered the room. Chrysalis hissed at the intrusion, her solace in her peaceful dark now ruined.

“Your... Majesty?” a young maid’s voice squeaked, poking her muzzle slightly into the room.

“Who are you?” she snapped, making the innocent child recoil out of fear. “What do you want?”

“Th-they sent me to check on you. They… want to know when we can start cleaning your room. I-I didn’t mean to intrude on your--”

“I told you all I didn’t want to be disturbed!”

“I... I know, my Queen, I told them that, it-it’s that, they--”

She did not want to hear it. “Just... get out.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“GET OUT!”

A bilious green light exploded out of her horn, illuminating the entire room. The maid cried in fear and ran for her life. A thin surge from Chrysalis’ horn’s tip slammed the doors and magically sealed them shut. Now nochangeling could bother her.

The light from her horn remained for a while, but her indignation had already extinguished, and in no time, a sharp pang of regret took its place. Something deep inside told her that was uncalled for. The kid was only doing her job. Just like that groomer whose hooves she bit and who she figured was most surely going to need stitches and disinfection. She made one little mistake. It was not like another lock of mane was not going to grow back in the other’s place. And Pupa...

A large ice cube dropped into her stomach. Her nightmares had the comfort of the fact they would end. But this, this was real. Flashbacks of the events of the previous hours played continuously in her mind and the overpowering feeling of guilt proved her long stress nap futile. She could not deal with it now. She needed to go back to sleep.

Chrysalis held her sides and shivered. She had slept without the comfort of her covers or pillow. She laid back down, but when she rested her head against the pillow, she noticed there was something there.

That’s when she found the picture.

Through the nights of the year, there was music from Castle Discord, the towering and bizarrely designed flying fortress that cast a shadow the size of Ponyville over the Equestrian planes during its nonstop drifting through the gentle blue skies.

Every night at sundown, it lowered itself to the ground of whatever town or city it happened to drift over and opened its gates to the populace who, be they rich or poor, native or immigrant poured into the swung open gates to party. The orange glows that shone out of the castle’s two hundred windows became a swarm of fireflies in the night, and without a moment of pause, the full orchestra, combined with the use of the technology of the modern age, played one grotesque symphony to the next, and local residents quickly found that filing a complaint of disturbance to or regarding the Marquess of Chaos was a meaningless gesture. When morning came, the ravages of the night before were repaired with a quick snap of the lord of the castle’s talons and everything was already ready for the festivities the following night.

Ponies were not invited to Castle Discord – they just went there, providing they were within travelling distance. Once they were past the open gates, they conducted themselves according to the rules and behaviour best associated with an amusement park. Sometimes they came and went without having met the Marquess at all, not that most would have wanted to. So when Princess Celestia, who was settling down for the night in her own royal chamber after a long, arduous day of paperwork and tedious bureaucratic procedure, received a letter from said castle via Spike, urgently requesting her presence there, she was more than a little surprised. She knew she had no choice; when Discord called upon you, he was not going to take ‘no’ for an answer.

Begrudgingly getting off her cosy, welcoming bed and not bothering to squeeze herself into some tight-fitting, gaudy dress that cut off her breath – it was a personal request, not a party invite – Princess Celestia took flight from her chamber balcony and headed in Castle Discord’s direction.

‘Whatever this is, Discord, it better be good.’

Tonight, the castle had settled down at the foot of the mountain on top of which Canterlot was situated. It made sense, being as it allowed for partygoers both from the glamorous capital and the wholesome town of Ponyville.

The party was well underway. Floating rounds of pitchers of cider, fruit cocktails and chocolate milk seeped from the bar inside the castle into the gardens, and already the air was alive with incessant chatter and boisterous laughter, along with introductions forgotten on the spot, informal deals made on a whim and a casual speciesist joke here and there.

As she flew over the castle gardens from her camouflage up high in the darkness of the night sky, the Princess of the Sun got a good glimpse of the social and ethnic melting pot of guests. There were the upper crust unicorn aristocracy of Canterlot, the middle class businessponies, the simple working class farmers and manual workers. There were statesmen from all over the world who had the power to make or break nations; there were the changeling and zebra immigrants who arrived in Equestria only a week ago, could not speak a lick of the language and wandered about seemingly in a daze, serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The fact that Discord managed to get all these different groups together, whether most of them wanted to acknowledge the others’ presence or not, was in and of itself an achievement.

Celestia looked around the cryptic design of the castle, searching for a balcony to land. Landing in the middle of a crowd would naturally attract too much unwanted attention for the supreme ruler of Equestria. She could not be sure which balcony lead to Discord’s chambers or whether he would even be there, but patience was a virtue, one you certainly learned after living well over a thousand years. She picked the nearest, which happened to be the biggest and hoped her search would be short.

Once she landed on the balcony and trotted inside the castle, Celestia took a good look around. The room she entered was not only disproportionately larger than it appeared from outside, but the décor was far too... tame to be Discord’s residence. Royal red fabrics hung from the ceiling, reaching one corner to another. The furniture was standard, what with a sofa on side and a beauty mirror on the other. It actually looked more like a mare’s room than a stallion’s, or a chimera’s in this case. She must have got it right, but if so, who did live here?

Celestia heard a low moaning sound. It was coming from the room’s bed, surrounded by a majestic set of jewel encrusted Tyrian purple curtains. She was not alone.

Slowly and with a slight curiosity, she approached the bed and listened closer. The moaning was becoming louder and more intense. She should have known better than to prod, but everypony had their momentary lapse of judgement, even Celestia. She poked her hoof into the parting of the curtains and pushed it open.

“Disc-- oh, oh my goodness!”

They were two mares, both young, barely out of their teens; one a very fat unicorn whose body seemed to jiggle around like it was literally made of gelatine, the other a lean and muscular pegasus. Both of them were rolling around the mattress, wearing long, brightly coloured stripped socks over their legs, their bodies pressed firmly against each other in a tight hug and their lips locked in a violent wrestling match.

They immediately stopped kissing and froze perfectly solid, so perfectly Celestia may have thought they had turned into still images from a photograph. Their eyes shot as wide as a poor critter who found themselves in front of an oncoming train, and when they turned their heads and saw Celestia standing over them, their dark blue and beige coats nearly turned snow white.

The mares shrieked, throwing themselves off each other like the other was covered with disease, grabbing whatever blanket they could to cover themselves up. Celestia took several steps back, her pristine white cheeks flushing red with embarrassment like two ripe tomatoes.

“Princess Celestia! W-we weren’t doing anything!” The unicorn spluttered, wrapping her legs around herself to cover her shame. “We-- we-- ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!”

“I am so sorry!” The Princess apologized, covering her face with her hoof as she looked away. “I didn’t realize... oh, dear creator...”

“Please don’t tell our parents!” The unicorn blubbered, already starting to break into tears.

“Princess! It-- it wasn’t my idea! It was hers!” The pegasus began wiping lipstick off her face and pointed at her jumbo-sized bedfellow. “She talked me into it! I wanted nothing to do with it!”

“What?!” The unicorn gasped, looking genuinely hurt. “How... how can you say that?”

“No, I mean--”

“Okay, this is now becoming boring. Get back to making out!”

A pair of feral yellow and red pupil eyes creaked open on the overhanging canopy. Before anypony could react, Discord’s head sunk out from the fine wood and dropped onto the bed, the rest of his body following, right in between the two hot, sweltering mares.

“Ladies,” was all he said, magicking up himself a fine cocktail in his claws.

The unicorn screamed, her eyes gushing like water sprinklers. She leaped off the bed, making a straight gallop to the chamber doors.

“Moonglow, wait!” the pegasus cried after her.

“No! We’re through!” she spat, angrily pulling her socks off and storming out. “I wouldn’t wanna talk you into anything else!” She slammed the door behind her as hard she could.

“Wow,” Discord sniggered, jabbing his talon in the direction of the door. “Now what do you suppose has got her socks in a twist?”

“Grrr! You PIG!” The pegasus, red in the face and making a short deft movement, smacked Discord across the face, who only spat out his drink and exploded with uproarious laughter. She flew out the room, repeatedly calling her marefriend’s name.

The spirit of chaos and disharmony rolled around the bed in hysterics. Celestia just stood there silently, glaring at him smoulderingly and tapping her hoof impatiently on the stone floor.

“You’re disgusting,” she sneered.

When Discord finally calmed down, he sat up straight, tidied himself a bit and seemingly for the first time that night, acknowledged her presence. He got up from the bed, bowed and took her hoof like he was about to kiss it.

“Why, Princess Celestia, what an honour it is to have you at my little party. I trust your trip went well.”

But the Princess was not amused, far from it. “Is this what you dragged me all the way from the castle for, Discord?” she asked crossly. “So I could watch you exploit and drool over innocent young mares?”

“Exploiting? Oh, now Celestia, don’t be so prudish,” he rolled his eyes and teleported behind her, except now he was dressed in what Celestia could best describe in her head as trappings of the King of Candy Land. His attire consisted of a long, bright pink coat or justacorp, a plum waistcoat, a red cravat, an enormous powdered wig, and banana breeches. “Now, I can’t help how my guests behave or they decide to use my many rooms. There’s only one rule here at Castle Discord: there are no rules. So what’s to stop me from spectating on a couple of curious young mares exploring their... identities?”

Celestia mentally sighed and turned away. What use was there in trying to reason with Discord of his errors and vices? She learned now to take most of his antics in stride; it was the only way to keep her sane when she was forced to spend more than five minutes with him, but even then it was not the most effective method. Her mind was more concerned and sympathetic towards those two unfortunate mares. She recognized them: the unicorn was the daughter of two prominent aristocrat philanthropists, and the pegasus was the daughter of a high up pegasus commander in the Royal Guard. Seeing these two in such a compromising position would be an ambitious paparazzo’s dream come true.

“You really need to loosen up more. You need to learn how to, as they say, unwind?” His body curled up like a large metal coil, only to literally unwind himself. “Develop a sense of humour and fun.”

“I do. You and I just have very different ideas of fun.”

“One wonders how we ever fell out,” he tutted sarcastically, swirling about his cocktail.

“One wonders. Now, about--”

A tall sweating glass appeared before her in the blink of an eye, filled with iced tea and large cubes of ice and a cute little pink umbrella sticking out the top.

“You must be thirsty after your journey,” he suggested simply, and the iced tea began changing into different drinks before reverting back to its first form. “Tea, coffee, cider, lime rickey, whatever you fancy, but do have a drink, Your Majesty.”

She was tempted. She had not had a drink since dinner. She tipped the glass forward and took herself a taste. A smile curled the corners of her lips. It was sweet, with a tangy hint of lemon.

Seconds later, she spat it right out, covering her mouth and her face wrinkling in revulsion. A long, hissing pale tongue stuck out of the glass, swaying about and taunting her playfully. The Princess growled, glaring daggers at Discord, who could barely restrain his laughter as he kept his drink to his lips.

“I noticed you’re still brushing, Tia.”

“Alright, that’s it,” Celestia hissed, her limits pushed. She flicked her tale dismissively and began heading for the balcony. “I’m not having this, Discord, not tonight.” She stopped in her tracks when Discord appeared in front of her in a sudden flash.

“Where’re you going?” he asked with the kind of tone a curious foal would ask their aggravated parents.

“Discord, move.”

“So soon? Don’t you want to know why I called you here?”

“Not if you’re just going to act like a foal!” Celestia brought her hoof to her face, the chill of her golden slipper providing some minor relief to the headache building up inside her skull. “Discord, it’s late and I’m tired. If you’ve honestly something important to tell me, then tell me, otherwise--”

The Marquis took a long, heavy sigh of defeat and let slump his shoulders. “Oh, very well,” he groaned, snapping his talons and his attire changing to a maroon robe and a neat little fez atop his head and a pipe appearing in his claws. “If you wish to be a party pooper as always and talk serious, let’s talk serious.” He fell back and instead of landing against the stone floor, a collection of pink bubbles appearing in the form of a soft forelegchair, blowing a chain of bubbles out of his pipe. “To get straight to the point, Celestia, I’m afraid there’s trouble brewing overseas.”

Celestia raised a sceptical eyebrow. “And you know this how?”

Discord was not exactly the most influential noble in Equestrian politics. She preferred to keep him distant from actual government and policy for the most part unless need be. It was neither like he had publicly shown a particular interest in politics nor had his muzzle in the newspapers putting on display his political knowledge or special point of view. How would he know if something of political significant was going on overseas, especially before her?

“My Discord sense, naturally.”

“Oh, Discord, not that again…” she huffed, her tone now sounding more irate. She had listened to him brag so many times now about his so-called ability, how he could detect the chaos plaguing the world like some radar inside his head. She may had given him the benefit of the doubt, if not for his claims’ inconsistency and that they usually reared their head after the events happened.

“Come now, Celestia, would I really be doing my job as spirit of chaos and disharmony if I wasn’t keeping my little radar on alert?” His blinked and his eyes turned dark green with little yellowing blinking in and out. “Oh, and in case you’re wondering, Pinkie Pie helped pick the name for it. That pony has such creativity and style...”

“Yes, she has,” she said, without the slightest bit of enthusiasm traceable in her voice. “But getting back to the point, Discord...”

“Oh, of course, that.” He casually pulled his legs up and rested them on the forelegrest and leaned back on the other, now looking somewhat bored. “I’m not sure if it’ll be of that much interest to you, though. It’s your dear old friend, Chryssie. Just a potential successional crisis that’s threatening to explode over in the Changeling Kingdom, that’s all. You know... the heir is in hospital, White Changeling of Death and all that mystical mumbo jumbo, future power vacuum, political and social unrest, all that jazz.”

Celestia mouth dropped open slightly. She had to do a double take. “What?”

Discord magicked up a nail and effeminately began doing his lion paw’s claws. “I mean, I wouldn’t necessarily place it on top priority, but I’d keep an eye on it. That or get some of your top stallions to form a committee or something like that.” He yawned loudly, holding his claws to his mouth. “After all, it’s not my position to dictate policy to you, is it?”

He felt her smooth, cold slippers take him by the face. She turned his head and made him look her square in her steely, yet beautiful magenta eyes.

“Discord…” she spoke slowly, icily. “From the top, tell me everything.”

Author's Note

Here's chapter Seven, everyone, enjoy.

Just to let you know, after this, I'm going to work on my reworking of my LPS story, "Space Monkey", which is going to be a long shot (a long oneshot). So if you're interested in that, check it out soon on DeviantArt or fanfiction when it is posted.

Chapter Eight

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Eight

Two days had passed since that horrible night and the royal palace was in a state of mourning; the likes of their worst nightmares come to life. Their most cherished and adored family member was in the hospital and the Queen had not left her royal chamber since then. That night, she quietly ordered the head servants to instruct everychangeling to leave her alone. Later, she magically locked her doors, gladly cutting herself off from the outside world.

When Chrysalis did not come out the following morning for breakfast, or to begin her duties for that day, it was, for the most part, understandable. Still, her royal duties needed to be fulfilled, regardless of the circumstances, but Danauria, the natural next-in-line, wrinkled her muzzle in disgust at the thought of herself undertaking anything to do with politics or requiring her to write more than two sentences on parchment. She instead delegated them to her uncle, who accepted them willingly and gratefully. An experienced drama queen herself, she could handle the bereavement of her family well enough, but her patience with her sister had its limits and it became severely tested come the second day of the latter’s self-imposed exile.

Her sister. Danauria felt the bile rising in her throat at just thinking about the wretched mare, festering up in the towers, she called ‘sister’. The rest of the family wondered about the staircase leading up to her chamber and pictured a loving, caring leader and mother in mourning. In spite of herself, she could not allow them to know the truth; it would utterly destroy this already strained family. The Captain and her most trusted mares-in-waiting and servants were all sworn to silence, with their lives as collateral. Each generation of the royal family had their own share of secrets to bear, this was hers.

She was lying down on a cushion in a tiny sitting room, the same Chrysalis had torn apart two days ago. Everything had already been repaired or replaced and the whole room looked as good as new. Curled up by her side like a little furry ball was her son, sleeping with the peace and content on his face a larva would have. The young mother gently pushed the overgrown fringe from his face. That simple colt, he could not understand the terrible things happening to his family.

Danauria was waiting for the servants to return. She had been sending servants up there repeatedly to check on her sister, but every time they knocked on the doors, they were met with complete eerie silence, not even the tiniest peep. If they returned with the same news one more time, she swore she was going up there herself.

“Your Highness?”

She broke off from her gazing into space and stared at the servant who had just now entered the room.

“Well?”

“Not a word.”

And the time was now.

She nuzzled her son tenderly on the head and got up with an irritated, drawn out sigh, “Stay here and watch Morphin until I return. I’ll handle this.” She marched past the servant and slid the doors shut with her magic.

The changeling stallion bowed obediently as their Princess left, but felt his back stiffen when he heard the painful whinny of the young Prince awaking from his slumber.

When she reached the top of the stairs leading to her sister’s chamber, Danauria was met by two hoofmaidens hovering fussily around the ornate doors, one going as far as to clinging onto them and pressing her ear against the surface to listen in.

“Your Majesty, please come out!” one of them begged desperately, practically on her knees.

“Do you want us to get you something to eat?” the other asked, still clinging to the doors. She glanced at her companion. “How long’s it been since she’s eaten anything?”

“I’ll take it from here, girls, leave us,” Danauria ordered them firmly and both immediately flew off without second invite.

Alone in front of the entrance to her sister’s chamber, she narrowed her purple eyes into a glare and lowered her voice as she spoke, leaning forward closely and rapping on the door, “Sister? It’s me. Open up.”

Silence, and nothing more.

“Chrysalis, can you hear me in there? Open this door.”

Silence, and nothing more.

“Chrysali--”

“Go away.”

The voice that emanated from behind the doors sounded so quiet and weak, Danauria first mistook it for some small, dying animal, but doing a retake, she was most sure that it came from none other than her own sister. She felt herself recoil and cover her muzzle with her sleeve when she picked up the putrid smell of old blood and stuffy air wafting from the door crack.

The vile stench hung around the darkened chamber, overpowering any fresh air that seeped its way through the firmly shut windows. Not a piece of overturned or ruined furniture had been touched or any blood or tonic stain cleaned. It was not high up in the list of the Queen’s current priorities to have this wreckage cleared up.

A private bathroom for Her Majesty’s use was a recent instalment in the corner of the chamber. Its walls were pristine pearly white, complete with matching furnishings, which had the strange effect of blending almost perfectly into them.

A monstrous vermin now inhabited this sterile room, having moved into it and making it its residence two days ago. It rested in a pile inside the modern, Equestrian-styled bath tub terribly wounded, not so much physically as mentally. This had once been a proud, powerful creature under whose hooves the weak were crushed. Now it was a weakened, stinking, oversized parasite curled against the side of the tub, doing nothing but taking up valuable space and breathing precious air.

Queen Chrysalis moved her muzzle from off her chest and pressed her cheek against the cold surface of the tub. She was so tired that she did not even have the energy to bring her head to lift.

“Oh, so suddenly you can talk again?”

She did not respond to the harsh resonance of her sister’s voice. It was the equivalent of a long, sharp piece of metal being jammed into her ear.

Chrysalis took a moment to inhale the air around her. The stench was so strong it broke her from her stupor and caused her to wrinkle her muzzle. It was not just the metallic aroma from outside, but the one humming off her body. In no uncertain terms, she stank. She had not removed her now stretched, blood stained and sweat drenched kimono since that night and her mane was matted in thick locks against her face. It had been two days since she last bathed, and a mare at her age and physical condition needed regular maintenance.

She strongly considered running a warm bath (she was already in the tub, after all). The remaining blood that she had not managed to scrub off her legs was irritating her. All she had to do was get out of these wrecked trappings that were still worth enough to feed several villages for a year, find somewhere to put it and her crown...

Her crown. Where was her crown? She peered over the tub and easily spotted her little black and jewel tipped ornament lying unceremoniously on its side at the base of the sink. It came back to her: she carelessly discarded it before she crawled into the bath. The damn thing was too heavy, anyway.

She garnered the least amount of effort and brought the crown levitating into her hooves, glaring at it through sharply narrowed eyes. This time in her self-imposed exile in her own chamber gave her enough time to think. This crown had brought her nothing but pain since the day it was placed on her head by the High Priestess.

Her coronation was the happiest day of her life, blinding her with the pomp and ceremony and glamorous illusions of limitless power and the status of a living kami. But Chrysalis came to realize that that was all they were: illusions. With her newfound status and power came extremely high expectations, ones she could never truly live up to, compared to her predecessors. And even with all the power at her hooves, the cavalcade of her people’s woes could not be solved. All the sleepless nights, the tightness in her chest, her failing eyesight, her dependency of those pills that lay scattered on her desk.

She was not a living kami; she was a changeling mare who, by sheer luck out of millions, was born into the royal family and possessed magical powers beyond the average changeling. If there was one thing Canterlot taught her the hard way, it was that inconvenient truth.

How much longer could she go on?

“Chrysalis! How long do you plan on staying in there? Answer me!”

Chrysalis grimaced, mentally moaning, ‘Oh right, her.’ Danauria was still buzzing around outside.

“Daury, I can’t come out right now,” she spoke loud enough to make sure she could hear and flopped over on her big belly, the tip of her horn scraping the porcelain. “Respect my wishes and give me privacy.”

“Two days alone in your chamber is long enough.” A pause followed before her sister continued, sounding less bellicose and more pleading, “You can’t stay in there forever. You still have important duties to perform. Uncle can’t keep doing them for you.”

“Last I checked, you were supposed to do them.”

“... Alright, fine. If you won’t do your work, then at least come downstairs. Our family needs you at this time. Have you any idea how worried they are about you? Do it if just to give them some peace of mind.”

Chrysalis was only half-listening, her mind drifting away from her sister’s shrill braying and onto her loved ones. She knew Danauria was right: it was cruel and selfish for her to leave them all panicking about her well-being, while Pupa lay near death in the hospital. She could only imagine the nightmare they were collectively going through at this moment in time, the very nightmare crafted by her hooves.

She now began thinking of Pupa, her darling bundle of sunshine, Pupa-chan. Two days ago, she could not bring herself to think about her, for her shame was too great, but now these inescapable thoughts plagued her whenever she was awake, and it was not just because of the picture her talented daughter drew for her, laying back on her bed; the same one the grown mare spent poring over for hours on end, paying no attention that her rainfall of tears was staining the crayon. Danauria’s interruption allowed her to divert her thoughts for a moment, but they still returned to her daughter. Chrysalis would never let herself forget the image of Pupa’s beaten and bloody face, the kind of damage only a wild animal could do, nor unhear her screams of terror still ringing in her ears. If it had been anychangeling else who did this, she would have made it her mission to track them down and exact brutal vengeance herself. What was she to do now? Beat herself up? What good would that do besides bring some minor stress relief?

Pupa was going to die; there was no question about it. Her fate was sealed. The doctors would not be able to save her, nochangeling could. Her poor filly would spend her final days, or hours wrapped in wires, oxygen continuously pumped into her mouth and her little heart zapped around the clock, all in the pathetic hope of delaying that inevitable moment when Chrysalis' bloodline officially ended.

What made her do it? How could she possibly justify to her family or to herself such cruelty against her baby? All she could remember was just how unrelentingly angry she was. Had all her pent up anger simply boiled over and Pupa, unfortunately, happened to be in her way? Or maybe... maybe she really wanted to hurt her? Deep down, she wanted to maim Pupa; she wanted to make her suffer and squeal for mercy like a mouse being squeezed to death in the claws of a predator.

Was she really the insidious monster Equestria’s sensationalist press continuously smeared her as?

Knowing her sister wanted a reply, Chrysalis curled up into her a tight ball, pulled her kimono up like bed sheets and murmured, shutting her heavy eyelids, “I can’t, Daury.”

“Then what do you want me to tell them?”

“Tell them I’m sorry.”

Danauria stood out there, eyes bugged and mouth agape. For a moment, her voice vanished from her throat. She hung her head, taking long breaths and consolidating her thoughts. Who was this mare? This was not the big, iron-willed sister she grew up with; the same sister who defied Equestria’s dominance of the planet and sought to take it down herself. Chrysalis would never act so cowardly! So spineless!

“Chrysalis... you make me sick,” she spoke with disdain as she turned her back on the doors, her head hanging low. “I never thought I’d say this, but you have made me ashamed to call you my flesh and blood. I could forgive the incident with Equestria, and I always trusted you knew what was best in running the kingdom. But what you’ve done to Pupa and what you’re continuing to do to this family brings nothing but dishonour to us all.” When she received no response, she lost her temper and stomped her hoof. “FINE! Stay in there and pine away! See if I care...”

Danauria stuck her flank up and huffed as she descended the stairs. She only stopped to look back to declare angrily, “Our father was right, you are a disgrace!”

Before she knew what hit her, she was blinded by a flash of green. Shaking her head and the green haze quickly fading, Danauria came to realize she was no longer standing out on the staircase. She was now in Chrysalis’ unlit chamber, just opposite where she was previously standing through the locked doors.

Danauria threw up a little in her mouth when her sensitive muzzle picked up the rotten stink polluting the air. This was not a monarch’s private quarters; it was an animal’s den. Her initial revulsion was nothing compared to the feeling of her legs turning to jelly when her sister literally bucked the bathroom door open with a crash and stormed out, a malevolent glint in her sore, puffy eyes and her hoof catching on the hem of her kimono more than once.

“Say that again,” she snarled, advancing on her younger sister step-by-step, who mimicked her with backward steps of her own, until she was backed up against the doors. She was only inches taller than Danauria, but her demeanour made it appear she towered over her. “... I said ‘repeat what you just said!”’

Danauria was not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she knew she had foalishly underestimated her sister and landed herself in a trap. Too late now. Chrysalis wanted the truth? She was going to get it.

She faced up to her, their eye levels matching once more, and with all her courage (or be it gull), Danauria said slowly, “Father always said that you were a failure! And you know what? He was right! You have brought nothing but dishonour to your throne and our family!”

Chrysalis did not answer, but maintained a steely gaze and locked jaw. She took a deep breath and without hesitation, in an arc of grey, swung her hoof and delivered a vicious slap to Danauria’s cheek. The strike resonated so loudly, it sounded like a whip crack.

The Princess squealed and her hooves flew over her face, scrambling up against the doors like a cockroach. She broke down crying; it was the first time anychangeling ever laid an aggressive hoof on her. Chrysalis sneered down at her with contempt.

“After everything that’s happened, how dare you say that to me!”

“You hit me…” Danauria sniffled, caressing her burning cheek.

“I barely touched you!”

Growling, Chrysalis shoved her hoof into Danauria’s chest, pinning her against the doors like a mounted butterfly. She flashed her teeth, dulled from lack of maintenance, but dangerously sharp to the touch.

“If that was Morphin in hospital, you’d be crying your eyes out and begging everychangeling for their sympathy!” She continued, maternal rage and indignation tinting every word as she closed in on her face, to the point their muzzles were pressed against each other. “What gives you the right to deny mine to grieve?!”

“Well, at least I wouldn’t have put him there!”

Chrysalis reeled back, pulling away her hoof. Her mouth opened and closed again as the stunned look on her face told she was thinking of something to say. The words had rendered her frozen like she was the one who had been slapped. Danauria immediately regretted what she said and her eyes frantically searched for a means of escape and her lips flapped frantically for words.

“I-I’m sorry. Chrysalis, I didn’t mean it! No... NO!” Danauria’s voice cracked when she saw Chrysalis, her face contorting with silent fury, raising her hoof above their heads, ready to strike. She threw her side against the door and shielded her face. “HEEEEELP!”

The blow did not come. The bedroom doors suddenly opened and she fell backwards, crashing down on the hardwood floor. She took the chance to scoot back on her haunches, fearfully trying to get as far away from her sister as possible.

“You’re an ANIMAL!” she screamed accusingly on the verge of hysterics, tears sprinkling out the corners of her pretty, mascaraed eyes. “That little peasant was right about you! You are a MONSTER!”

Chrysalis did not move from her spot. Her hoof dithered in midair before it slowly returned to the floor. She trembled away from the hallway light pouring into her chamber as if it was toxic and hid her face within her mane, anything to hide the tears swelling up in her eyes.

“Is that what you think of me?” she asked, her hollow voice quivering. Through the gossamer locks, her chin trembled, in spite of her efforts.

Danauria did not answer; hers was clear by the shame written over her face. Now she could not bear to look her in the eye and stared weeping down at the floor instead.

A moment passed and neither sister uttered a word, nor raised their heads from their chests to look at the other.

“So that’s it...” Chrysalis concluded blankly as she disappeared into the shadows, only to reappear moments later with something hovering next to her head. “Here. Catch!”

The object flew out the door and struck Danauria on her temples before she had time to react and landed in her lap. The Princess checked her head in case it was bleeding and looked down to find the heavy hunk of metal lying intact against her robe. She gasped, hoof over mouth; it was the royal crown.

She stared up at the matriarch incredulously. “Chrysalis... what are you doing?”

“I’m a disgrace, an embarrassment to my line,” she declared bitterly, turning her back to her. “I wash my hooves of that thing. Take it. Take it and go. And don’t you ever speak to me again.”

“But—you can’t—!”

Chrysalis whirled around, her eyes and horn lit green, screaming as loud she could, “Are you deaf?! I know you’re right, okay?! I’m a bucking failure! A failure whose line is about to end! So take it! IT’S. YOURS!”

Danauria was rendered speechless. She only continued to gawk from the untarnished crown to her sister and to the crown again.

“Enjoy it!”

The doors slammed shut and Chrysalis disappeared into her lair once more, the sound making the Princess wince as if something else was just lobbed at her.

She sat there, not moving from the spot, not making a sound. Her mind was stuck trying to process everything that just happened. She handled the little black crown in her hooves, stroking its smooth, cold surface and staring lamentingly at her reflection that shone by the torches on the walls.

Picking herself up, Danauria dragged herself tearfully down the stairs, tucking the crown carelessly into her kimono pocket. She figured the best thing to do was place it in her own chamber to keep it safe.

‘Then what?’ she thought. Probably to go back and tend to her son, and, with any luck, stay out of anychangeling’s way, in case she actually managed to things even worse.

The gravity of the situation quickly dawned on the pampered, gorgeous Princess. She began to feel something completely foreign to her, tightening in her chest and ruining her normally perfect posture. Was it guilt? Was this, she wondered, what guilt felt like? It must have been.

She tried taking the lead to help mend this disaster her sister made. Instead, she made it worse beyond her comprehension.

The Prime Minister was sleeping soundly at his home when he was summoned to the palace in the early hours of the first morning. Naturally, his desire to have his first eight hour sleep in days and allow his body to regain its strength urged him to stay, but his duty as head of his nation’s government came first and he hurriedly bid his half-asleep wife goodbye and accompanied the guards.

He was taken to his office; there he was met by Prince Pincer. What he was told he would not have believed if it had not come from the mouth of a royal changeling, and even then, he had to ask him to repeat it twice to be sure he was not just hearing things in his drowsy state. He took some time to sit down and take all the information in.

An emergency meeting of the cabinet was to be held immediately, the only problem being that most of the ministers had already left the capital to deal with political matters that called them away. This was not so much a major problem as it was an irritating inconvenience since they could all easily be summoned back and arrive the next day. What nearly sent the Prime Minister throwing his desk over in frustration was when he learned the Queen refused to come down and head the meeting as was custom. Pincer managed to calm him down by assuring that he was trusted with carrying out the monarch’s duties in her stead.

That did not mean the rest of the cabinet, come the next day when they were all gathered in the same dreary room as they were two days before, were as understanding.

“The Queen cannot simply refuse to attend an emergency meeting of the cabinet!”

“Technically speaking, she can do whatever she pleases.”

“It does not mean she should. This is an emergency. We need the Queen with us more than ever!”

The tension in the room was so thick that a changeling could cut through it with a sword. Ministers in these meetings were expected to hold themselves to the highest standard of appropriate behaviour, but these were only mortal creatures and the stress of a difficult situation the likes of this was able to get to the best of stallions.

It was the monarchists who started the argument with the liberalist and independent ministers. Without the unchallengeable Queen there to silence them with her mere presence, there was nothing to stop these ideologically opposed, bull-headed stallions from butting heads. All the Prime Minister and the royal stand-in could do was wait patiently for the arguing to simmer down and serve as lightning rods to their anger.

“The Queen and her family should be allowed her privacy at a time like this!” rebuked the Minister for the Environment. She pointed to the old Gensui sitting in the monarch’s place next to the Prime Minister. “Prince Pincer has more experience than any of us and as he has been delegated this task, we have no right to challenge him. We’ve wasted enough time squabbling over something so petty!”

“Thank you, Cara,” said Prince Pincer, speaking for the first time in the last twenty minutes. The Ministers quietened as they turned their heads to face him. His spoke softly and kindly, but the grief and unfounded guilt outlined in the wrinkles on his aged face betrayed him. The pitch black kimono he wore reflected very well his true inner feelings. “You make an excellent point. We must focus on what is important.”

The majority of the cabinet did not appear to share his sentiment. Having the Queen absent was one thing, but for her replacement to be a Gensui, a member of the military elite, was another. For many years, they sought to keep the Changeling Army as separate as possible from their cabinet; Prince Pincer’s presence here alone went against their political sovereignty.

“So you have told us, Your Highness,” said the monarchist Minister for Justice, a heavyset changeling wearing a very dark blue and bright orange kimono. “The Crown Princess has been hospitalized and remains in critical but stable condition. I am certain all of us are up to speed by now. What you and the Prime Minister fail to tell us are the details, say for example, exactly what happened to the Princess? ”

For the first time in that meeting, Prince Pincer and the Prime Minister exchanged glances. The latter sat stone-faced and upright compared to his older counterpart, but it was how he conducted himself: the way he held and smoked a long white cigarette in between the holes in his hoof, the way he stared straight ahead into complete nothingness, these subtle hints betrayed his stoic exterior and gave away his feelings of dread. He understood the Prince’s cue and blew a big puff of smoke.

“I’m afraid we cannot divulge with you the exact details of the incident,” he informed them, while magicking over a glass ashtray. “It is private information we do not believe is within the cabinet or the public’s interests to know.”

A low groan resonated across the table and the thin, weedy Minister for Internal Affairs asked another question, sounding more pugnacious than his predecessor.

“Then what of the press? And the public for that matter? When will this be released?”

“Until the Queen decides otherwise, this must be kept tightly under wraps. Only this cabinet, the palace, the High Priestess and the hospital’s staff are aware of any of this,” Pincer answered levelly. “We have despatched the guards to the vicinity and the secret police has been placed on high alert. If any of this leaks into the press, the matter will be dealt with swiftly.”

The new wave of mutterings amongst the cabinet indicated their pacification with his answer from both sides.

“Well, then...” spoke Defence Minister Gryllus apathetically, looking ready to sit up. “We all know what’s happening, so if there’s nothing more we need to discuss...”

“You seem in a hurry, Gryllus,” commented Cricka, the ragged Minister for Food and Agriculture, who sat next him.

“I have long lines of deserters ready for execution and they’re only going to get longer.” He turned to Pierce and added earnestly, “I mean you no disrespect, Your Highness, but I cannot see what more is there to talk about. We can only trust the hospital to nurse the Princess back to health.” His statement was met with a grim silence from his peers. “... What?”

“I’m afraid, Gryllus, that’s not why we’re here.” The Prime Minister pressed his cigarette firmly into his tray, extinguishing it with a soft ‘hsss’. “The situation is more dangerous than you realize.”

“At the moment, we have no choice but to discuss the worst case scenario, however much we don’t want to,” Pincer said solemnly, his eyes closed and hooves held together on the table.

“You mean if the Princess...”

“Yes.”

Gryllus was taken aback, and he shook his head adamantly. “No, that is not possible.” He looked to his peers for support, none of whom looked him back and in their eyes saw the dull shared fear. “W-We have the kingdom’s finest doctors working round the clock on her.”

“If there is one thing my years in the army have taught me, it’s that no operation goes according to plan.”

A stack of folder in the middle of the table levitated to each changeling sitting in a chair and opened up for them. The Prime Minister lifted his copy and began reading from it aloud.

“As you can see from your copies, we’ve outlined the different routes for the future transition of power. The Queen’s wishes for when the Crown Princess assumes the throne remain as follows: the immediate formation of a regency council to exercise the royal prerogative on the Princess’ behalf. Given the Princess’ illnesses and disabilities as they stand already, we’ve agreed this is the most appropriate route. The members list has recently been updated to include another General, the incumbent Minister for Defence and Prince Pincer.”

Gryllus’ bat-like ears perked up in interested, though he kept his eyes firmly on his copy. With his secure tenure and popularity in his hard-line approach towards deserters, his chances of holding his post for many years to come seemed within reach with it a promised greater slice of power.

“But we are now forced to accept that the Princess may not live to see that day. In that case, we have put together a plan to confirm with you, one we have considered for some time.”

Pincer decided to finish it off. He was no stranger now to taking the brunt of anger for unpopular initiatives. He had less to lose than the Prime Minister did.

“If the Princess does not survive, the Queen will choose a new heir.”

The Minister’s faces turned bone white as several jumped to their hooves and in seconds, the room was alive with roars of protest like it had been swamped with a whole zoo full of animals. Neither the Prime Minister or Pincer even flinched; the former took out and lit another cigarette.

“You dare try and alter the line of secession!?”

“I shall not serve as a false Queen or King!”

“You do not have the power to dictate this to us!”

“We have been making contact with the High Priestess and her council!” The Prime Minister suddenly shouted over his cabinet, his abruptness cutting their protests short. He recollected himself and continued more calmly, “And they have agreed to recognize, with their confirmation, the Queen’s chosen heir and successor, daughter or otherwise.”

The Immigration Minister blinked, looking shell-shocked. “The High Priestess said that?”

"Yes."

Their protests simmering down to disgruntled mutters, many of the Ministers sat themselves down. Some of them could not believe it; the High Priestess would be willing to go along with this crazy idea? How could that possibly be true? Or were the Prince and the Prime Minister merely lying to their faces to get them on board?

“The High Priestess would never betray our traditions!” The Justice Minister barked defiantly, still refusing to back down. “Have you lost your minds?! What you propose flies in the face of one of our most sacred traditions. It strictly dictates--”

“Minister, we are aware of what tradition and custom dictate!” The Prime Minister shot back with tenacity. As a politician, he was hot-wired to not let his guard down, but the ranting and ravings of these belligerent ministers was trying his patience. “But in case you’ve all been asleep these last two days, we find ourselves in uncharted waters. This is where we have to make our own rules. Please understand that we would never put this forward unless we felt we absolutely had to.”

“But the changeling people will never accept such a change,” Cricka tried to reason amongst the sea of bitter remarks.

“Maybe, but that is something they must come to terms with,” Pincer rebuked. “Don’t any of you understand the seriousness of this situation? We all wish to adhere to the sacred traditions and customs of our ancestors, but if we do not allow ourselves the ability to make changes in situations as dire and unexpected as these, we risk our own destruction! What will you do if my great niece, Kami bless her sweet little soul, does die? This plan may become our only means to avoid a successional crisis. To reject it at this time would be foalish.”

“There has to be another way.”

“This can easily be resolved: if she needs to, the Queen will just have to lay another egg.”

Hearing that last remark was the straw that broke the camel’s back for the old royal. Standing up, he pounded his hoof against the wooden floor, creating a crashing sound like thunder and shaking violently anything that was not bolted down.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” He roared, his voice like canon fire and his eyes glowing a terrifying green, halting anychangeling’s protests in their tracks. “Have you any sense of decency or respect left for your Queen? Children are not just things you can just replace like old toothbrushes! Have you any idea the kind of suffering my niece has gone through?! Your Queen’s word is law! THIS is your Queen’s word and you MUST ACCEPT IT!”

When he finished, it looked like nochangeling had the guts to speak out against him. Some were even peeping out from underneath the table, shivering like decaying autumn leaves. They were aware of the Gensui’s reputation as having the heart of a manticore and the ferocious temper of one to match, but none of them had been present to witness such legendary rage. Until now.

The Prime Minister grabbed the Prince's shoulder and brought him back down, hissing in his ear, "Your Highness, please control yourself!"

Pincer's looked down with a hint of remorse on his scowl. He knew it was wrong of him to fly off the handle like that in an official meeting, but he could not just stand by at what he saw as an insult to his family.

A knock on the door caught everychangeling’s attention. The Prime Minister, still reeling from Prince’s outburst, edged his head and called, “Come in.”

An old maid shuffled into the room, head down to avoid any contact with the crowd of stallions (minus the two mares) who inhabited the room. Her gravy, bristly mane hung down one side of her face and the thick bags under her eyes did not do well for her appearance.

“Yes? What is it?”

The old maid did not answer the Prime Minister but trotted up to Prince Pincer’s side, whispering something into his ear.

“Hmm... what are you talking... she’s what?!” He briefly looked at the cabinet, saying as he stood up, “Excuse me. Take me to her!”

Without another word, the Prince and the maid left the room, and the Ministers were already shouting amongst each other before they were even fully out the door. Accusations of treason and disloyalty were being flung about like flaming arrows and blows were not far behind.

Cricka was the only one still sitting, his frail bones and bad back forbidding him from putting on any extra stress.

‘This isn’t a crisis,” he thought, shaking his head dismally. ‘It’s a nightmare.’

Chrysalis raised her head from the lukewarm water, breathing in quick gulps of air. Her mane’s soaked locks completely covered her face. Her eyes stung from the bubbles – ‘no more tears’ her two ton flank!

She clambered out of the tub, beads of water dripping off her fur, creating a trail of puddles in her wake. She could not remember the drying spell at the moment, so she did the next best thing and shook it off in a similar fashion to how her childhood shikokus used to when they got wet.

Shambling out of the bathroom and kicking a stool that was in her way, she recalled and cast the drying spell on herself and perched her rump on the edge of her bed, sitting in silence, hooves on lap as the last drops of water dripped from the fur on the back of her legs.

Kami knew Chrysalis needed that bath more than anything; by the time she turned the taps on there were flies hovering around her flank. It still did not make her feel any better; she just stunk of pomegranates and strawberries instead of her dried sweat.

She did not know what to do now, and that did not mean whether or not to go to bed. She thought relinquishing her crown to Danauria would feel like a weight lifted from her shoulders, but in reality, it felt like nothing of the sort, thus the ache in her heart only worsened. Even when she did get what she wanted, it was still never enough.

Again, her thoughts were only her daughter. Nothing could distract her from them. She knew what eventually had to be done, but it would mean hauling her big rump from her chamber and creating a panic with her disappearance.

‘Do I even care anymore, though? If both my line and my reign are about to end, what does it matter what I do now? Buck them!”

It took a while for her to make up her mind, but when her eyes happened upon Pupa’s darling picture, laying folded up into a neat little square on the bed, and she gave it a minutes long, adoring second look, she knew what to do. Eventually, she found herself standing up in front of her bed, no longer wearing a tight, constricting kimono, holding the picture and preparing for the teleportation spell. It should have been easy for a changeling with the experience in magic she had, but it required a clear, focused mind and that was something she was lacking lately.

A green spark emanated from the tip of her malformed spire of a horn and quickly quadrupled in size. It was working.

She heard voices.

“No! She cannot do this! She will not do this! I will not allow it!”

“Then tell her! She won’t even talk to me anymore!”

“Oh, I will!”

Chrysalis scowled. Uncle and Danauria. Of course, little miss ‘anorexic Sugar Queen’ blabbed her big mouth, what a surprise! But this time, they were not going to meddle with her affairs, and neither would they ever again. She just had to focus on the spell.

She heard her uncle pounding his hooves against her doors.

“Chrysalis! Your sister has told me everything! Don’t you dare even think about doing this!”

“Sorry, Uncle,” she whispered. She meant it too, but she could not allow him to interfere with something he so did not understand.

“You are acting out of grief; don’t be foalish and ruin everything you’ve strived for on a whim! Chrysalis!”

A tear ran out the corner of her eye and down her cheek. ‘I’m coming for you, Pupa.’

“She won’t unlock the door, Uncle.”

“Scooch back...”

In the nick of time, the spell was complete and Chrysalis had vanished in a flash of green light and smoke, just as the doors blew off their hinges and against the walls, splintering in a million pieces.

Both royals galloped into the room, searching for the Queen through the green fog, but immediately recoiled when they took their first breaths inside.

“Ugh! Oh my gods, you were right!” Pincer covered his muzzle with his sleeve. “The smell is unbearable!” When he shook it off and the fog cleared, he saw his worst fears confirmed and he gasped. “Good grief, she’s gone.”

“What?!” Danauria shrilled, grabbing her mane. “Where’d she go?!”

“I have no idea! We’ll have to dispatch the guards to search for her!”

“They’ll be no match for her.”

“We’re not going to try and bring her back in; we just need to find where she is.” The old Prince clutched his stomach, baring his teeth in pain. “Grrr! This stress is giving me ulcers!”

Danauria put her hoof on his shoulder as they made their way out. “Go and sit down, Uncle. I’ll go and alert the guards.”

“Your Highnesses!”

But speak of the devil, who should come running up the stairs in his clunking armour than one of the guards themselves, stopping at the top to catch his breath and give his flaming lungs a rest.

“Your timing could not have been more perfect, guard,” Pincer said, going up to greet him with no regard to his flustered appearance. “You must alert Captain Beetle the Queen has taken flight and we don’t know where. She must be found.”

The guard, still out of breath, bowed, wheezing, “Of course, Prince Pincer, but first I am ordered by the Captain to inform you of something of grave importance.”

“Dare I ask what?” Pincer groaned, rubbing his head which he swore, any minute, was going to crack open like an egg.

“Your Highness, we have just received word... Princess Celestia of Equestria has just arrived at the palace.”

Author's Note

(A/N) And there you have it, Chapter Eight, as you can see, things are only going from bad to worse and the drama, from the family to the political, is being cranked up to the eleven.

I'm sure many of you are confused as to just why the cabinet is so vehemently opposed to this proposed change in the line of succession when this sort of things has happened in real-life monarchies throughout time. Well, don't worry, it will be explained as the story continues and more of Changeling culture and tradition is elaborated on. So don't worry, it will be revealed.

Ps, forgive the extreme lateness of this update. My Littlest Pet Shop fanfiction, Space Monkey, and my courses and internship have eaten up a lot of my time, but I will make sure to dedicate more time to this story.

Enjoy.

Chapter Nine

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Nine

Princess Celestia knew that throughout the duration of her millennium and running reign, she had gained as many enemies as she had allies. Some she did not know what to call at times, given how alliances were formed and broke down in a continuous cycle, in these uneasy times especially. Relations with the Griffin Empire were sporadic in the two superpowers’ struggle for influence in the world, creating a long history of intervals between brief wars and precarious peace. Saddle Arabia’s alliance was purely for economic and security benefit, their cultures staunchly polarized that anything beyond was not feasible. Then there was the Changeling Kingdom, the one nation that, as things currently stood, was Equestria’s greatest foreign enemy.

By all accounts, it was still the Changeling Empire, but its colonies and overseas territories remained insignificant compared to the expanding, insatiable griffins. Even Chrysalis, infamous for her imperialistic and expansionist foreign policies, still only referred to her nation as a ‘kingdom’. Celestia had to give the changelings some credit; their nobility had a greater sense of modesty than those of her ponies.

Equestria’s relations with the kingdom dated back as early as the time of the Scaragowa Shogunate, long before the restoration of the royal throne. And yet many of her little ponies were still naïve enough that many of them still did not know what a changeling was, prior to the Canterlot Wedding (though, granted, even Pinkie Pie did not know what a griffin was until her run in with that bully, Gilda). The Shoguns’ isolationist policy of sakoku both put an end to relations and cut off changelings from their neighbours for centuries. Celestia nowadays preferred to downplay her role in both the sakoku and the shogunate’s end; looking back, she still felt conflicted on her actions back then and whether or not she should have done what she did, but she could ask that about almost everything she had done in her long, long life. Dwelling on them would do nothing to help the present situation.

And the present siaution involved the Alicorn sitting down patiently in the spacious waiting room in the Changeling royal palace in the heart of the Changeling Kingdom.

A gentle, crackling flame was lit for her in the fireplace, creating a remote feeling of warmth and glimmer of light in the dark, chilly room. Her luggage and her pet phoenix, Philomena, had all been taken up to her temporary quarters. She was now waiting for somechangeling, likely of high standing, to come see and greet her. She already accepted that Chrysalis herself may not come down to see her, given their… less than cordial history, but knew her high status as a world leader would mean she would not just be turned away, given she had at least been let into the palace and given a room.

The door opened and a changeling maid came in, middle-aged, orange mane done up in a large bun, and levitating a silver tray holding a roundish iron tea pot and cups. She bowed to the Princess, setting down the tray and pouring her a cup of tea while doing so.

“Arigatou gozaimasu,” Celestia thanked her politely, assuming the maid only spoke Changeling.

“Dou itashimashite, heika. Sugu ni shujin ga mairimasu,” the maid replied with a small smile, bowing once more obediently before leaving.

Celestia took her gyokuro green tea and had a quiet sip as she listened to the faint crackle of the fireplace. Her attention drew to it, starting into the flames almost hypnotically, until her eyes caught sight of a portrait hanging above.

It was a gorgeous watercolour painting of two changelings dressed in rich green kimonos and their manes done up in neat buns; one was a tall, full grown mare, the other a young filly, no older than Applejack’s or Rarity’s little sisters, if not younger. Both were sitting down and smiling serenely on the royal throne, the little one brushing up cosily at the elder’s side as the latter coiled her foreleg around her tiny shoulder. Celestia could not help but grin; they looked genuinely happy together, enjoying each other’s company, immortalized in that wooden frame.

Celestia made out the mare in the portrait to be Chrysalis (though she had to do a double take due to the uncharacteristic bun manestyle for the mare), while the filly she could only assume was her daughter, Pupa. The very filly who was the reason she had flown two whole days to come to the rivalling kingdom.

Her peers back in Canterlot begged her not to come.

“Princess Celestia, please don’t do this!” Twilight was seconds from getting down on her knees and throwing herself at her slippered hooves as they all stood in the Sun Princess’ chamber, the latter being too busy packing her own bags to grant them her undivided attention. “It’s… it’s too dangerous!”

“I appreciate your concern, Twilight, but I’m quite sure I’m old enough and capable enough for going on a diplomatic mission.” Celestia spotted her favourite manebrush still sitting on the vanity and lifted it up and over her student's head. She gave Twilight an unerring wink as it dropped in her bag with some exaggerated ceremony, before glancing over at one of the maids who was busy packing. “Has Philomena been safely taken aboard?”

The maid being addressed stood at attention like a train soldier and replied, “Yes, Your Majesty. She have us trouble getting her into her cage, but she’s fine now and she’s now in your carriage.”

“Thank you.”

“You are going into enemy territory by yourself with only a few guards to protect you,” Prince Consort Shining Armor tried to reason with her, getting back onto the subject. “You’ll be too vulnerable to an attack.”

“Thank you, Shining Armor, but this is not a military operation,” she said, shooting him a stern glare. “Chrysalis may be arrogant, but not stupid enough to attack me when she’s not charged up on love. She’ll play by international law, this time.”

“But why?” Twilight asked, still incredulous. “Princess, you owe her nothing!” She spoke ‘her’ with enough contempt as if it were a curse. “I know you always have your reasons, but this is just so... so...”

Celestia arched an eyebrow quizzically. “Crazy?”

“N-No, just... I’m sorry,” she squeaked, fearing she had earned her mentor’s ire.

Celestia sighed, looking down sympathetically over her student and fellow Princess whom she still towered over. She took the lavender Alicorn by her chin and lifted it up to look her in her pretty violet eyes.

“Oh, Twilight, I understand how it must feel when I do things like this, and I know you only have my interests and the kingdom’s at heart. I hate keeping things from you and everypony just as much as you do, but this is something I must do. I promise I will tell you more once I return. Okay?”

Twilight managed a smile and nodded, “Okay.”

It was her sister, Princess Luna, who was the most adamant, going so far to try and talk her out of it along their walk to Celestia’s flying carriage. “Sister, if you really are to do this, you should at least let me come with you! I can help you in case things turn sour, and knowing Chrysalis--”

“No, sister, I need you to remain here and rule the kingdom in my stead,” Celestia told her resolutely, placing a hoof on her shoulder. “Besides, let’s not forget what happened the last time you enacted your personal brand of diplomacy.”

“If you’re referring to the time with the Zebra General--”

“No, I’m referring to the time you punched the Diamond Dog President in the face.” Celestia flinched as she wished Lula had not brought up that particular unpleasantness in Zecronica. “But since you mentioned that particular General, then yes, that little international incident is valid, too."

The younger Princess could not help but form a half amused, half wicked grin at both memories. “Well, sister, the next time an oversized bulldog brushes up on your leg like that, I’d very much like to see how you’d react! Oh, and I didn’t punch him in the face; I kicked him in the stomach first.”

Celestia rolled her eyes. “Point proven. Just stay here, sister. I will be back in three days at most.”

“If that is your wish, so be it,” Luna sighed as they stopped outside the balance before the carriage and nuzzled each other affectionately on the cheek. “But if you happen upon an instance where you require our help, let us know immediately.”

“I will.” Celestia sincerely hoped that should not have to.

Her meditative trance was broken by the sudden opening of the doors and the entrance of a changeling stallion of in a cobalt blue formal kimono. She stood up out of respect for her host, going so far to bow in the traditional changeling manner before him, having deduced from his build and attire to be royalty, likely high up in the ranks of the Changeling Army. It was also simply good manners, something a lot of ponies back in Equestria applied to those they saw as the ‘enemy’.

“Welcome, Princess Celestia, princess and co-sovereign of Equestria,” Prince Pincer trotted to his Equestrian-styled chair opposite the foreign Princess as he greeted her with a bow of his own. They both sat down and rested their back against the padded backrests, the elderly Prince adjusting himself to the awkward furniture and pouring his own cup of tea. “I am Prince Pincer, Gensui and uncle to Her Majesty, Queen Chrysalis.”

“It is an honour to finally meet you, Prince Pincer,” Celestia nodded, smiling kindly. Hearing his name reminded her of many hours spent in the library going over books on military tactics, both old and new, particularly in the Changeling Kingdom section, and she remembered his name coming up more than once. “It’s funny. I never thought I’d get the opportunity to meet the Dragonfly of the East in flesh and fur.”

The Prince flinched uncomfortably at being addressed with his famous moniker, however sincerely and actually complimentary she said it. He kept a straight face and stroked his hoof over the other.

“We are most humbled by your visit, Princess Celestia, though a few days notice before your arrival would have certainly allowed us to prepare more.”

“I completely understand,” she replied empathetically, sipping her tea again. “This was a decision I had to make on short notice. If I could, I would have organized this much earlier in advance.”

“I am sure. It’s just that...” Pincer did not know how to put this without causing unintended offence to the Equestrian ruler. “Such an unexpected appearance here, in the Changeling Kingdom of all places especially, can lead to some more irrational changelings making presumptions.”

“Like your niece?” she queried curiously, raising a brow. “Is that why she has not come down to see me?”

“More like my younger niece. She fears you’ve come with a warrant from the World Court for her sister.”

It took Celestia a second or two to comprehend what he was talking about, but it inevitably clicked. Equestria had never got over the siege of Canterlot all those years ago. To many, particularly amongst the ruling nobility, Chrysalis was nothing but a war criminal, one whom had still not been brought to justice. To get a warrant from the World Court to finally bring her in to stand trial was one of the more heatedly discussed topics in her and Luna’s courts, particularly around the time of the joint anniversary of the royal wedding and the invasion.

“I promise you I come bearing no ill intention towards the Queen or your kingdom,” Celestia insisted with earnest. “But I do need to talk to her as soon as possible.”

“A matter of grave importance for both our nations, I assume?” he asked, resting his head in his open hoof. “Something that upsets your grand plans? I cannot think of any other reason now that suddenly brings you here.”

“You’re quite astute, Your Highness.”

“Thank you.” Pincer had now become more comfortable and relaxed in the Sun Princess’ presence, having got to experience her gentle, light-hoofed attitude for himself. “Well, in that case, I’m afraid that at this moment, she will not see anychangeling, even me. You see, Your Majesty, you’ve come at a grave time for my family. Something... something has happened very recently, a very personal matter, and the Queen is no longer in a correct state of mind to attend to the affairs of state, so you see--”

“I know.”

Pincer had to do a double take. “I’m sorry?”

“I am fully aware that Princess Pupa is in hospital at this very moment,” she said plainly, using her magic to pour herself another cup of tea. She licked her lips satisfyingly; she did not see eye-to-eye with the changelings on many things, but she could not deny they made some of the best tea one could get one's hooves on.

“But-- but how?”

“Discord told me,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“We should have realized nothing escapes the Marquess of Chaos’ eye,” the Gensui muttered bitterly into his hoof. Even with their security at its tightest, the royal family could not prevent the rest of the world from still finding out about their most private affairs. “So it is the Princess who is the reason you are here?”

Celestia clucked her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Partly. There is something of the utmost importance that I can only speak to the Queen about. I know you said she will not see anyone, and I understand she is in a bad place at the moment, but it isn’t something that can wait, so I must insist on seeing her.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Princess, but there’s something else you should know, something I withheld,” he rubbed the back of his head and put his cold, untouched tea back. “We... are not entirely certain where Chrysalis is at this very moment.”

She blinked. “What?”

“She has teleported. The last we saw her was in her chamber, but we have no way of knowing where she’s gone.”

Celestia just rolled her eyes and giggled half-heartedly at this response. “Is that all?” she asked him like he was a young colt voicing concern to his mother over an everyday fillyhood trifle.

“Well... yes?”

“Your Highness, if the scorch mark is still intact, I can track where she went,” she informed him amiably. “If you want, I can do that right now.”

“You would?”

“It would be no problem, and would help deal with both our problems.”

Pincer paused to contemplate this for a moment, rubbing his chin in deep thoughts before turning his head towards the doors, beckoning the help, “Maid! Maid!” They slid open and a changeling mare’s head poked through. “Fetch me the keys to the Queen’s bed chamber, at once.”

Two guards remained at the doors leading into Pupa’s room. Both were under strict orders not to let anychangeling other than medical staff and changelings under orders from the royal palace inside. So far, only nurses had come to check on the Princess and once they had finished, left without a word. Nothing was out of the ordinary, as far as they could tell, and the Princess was safe.

Neither took any notice of the dull green light flickering through the door window.

Queen Chrysalis phased out of the dying green embers of her teleportation spell. Her face was calm, almost tranquil, but with the gentlest twitch of her left eye. The bulges on her long, ‘naked’ frame hung loose without a kimono wrapped around to cover the mess up, and tucked within the many holes riddling her legs was a folded piece of paper. Her walk was certainly the thing most off about her: she could not take more than two steps without a stumble, like one of her legs was badly wounded from battle.

She found who she was looking for immediately, and, in her chest, Chrysalis felt her heart sink.

In the middle of a neat row of beds, Crown Princess Pupa laid soundly in a sleep too perfect, too pure to be normal. Coiled around her body like a bed of snakes was an assortment of wires, hooking her up to the monitors, from which a low, morbid beep continuously resonated. Her whole body was covered in lacerations and bruises (all in the shapes of large hooves), her otherwise serene face sporting a horrid black eye and a swollen cheek. The nurses had cleaned most of the blood away, leaving only the stains in the thick bandages wrapped around her legs and upper abdomen and the dried splatter on the same lilac kimono she had been brought in wearing two days ago.

A sleeping angel.

In the filly’s closed sockets, Chrysalis could spot her eyes moving.

‘She must be dreaming,’ she remarked mentally, approaching Pupa’s beside with care, her hooves making ghostly gentle steps against the floor.

She got down on her knees so her head was more level with her daughter’s. For what felt like an eternity for the Queen, she just sat there, camouflaging into the darkness of the room like a shadow. Her eyes were firmly locked on her filly and her little form rising and falling slowly with every breath fighting against the tight bandages around her chest.

The longer she stared wistfully at her filly, no longer a grub but not far passed, Chrysalis realized her vision clouding with mist and felt two warm streaks crawling down her cheeks from her sore, puffy eyes. She forced a bitter laugh; she figured she would have run dry of tears by now. She was so sick and tired of crying.

No longer able to continue doing nothing but sit there and do nothing, the Queen outstretched her hoof to the child’s still form, resting the back of it on her cheek. The moment they touched, Chrysalis recoiled and gasped. Ice cold. Just like in her dream.

Her instincts driving her, Chrysalis carefully got into bed with Pupa, trying as hard she could not to bump her or shift her in any way from her delicate position. The filly needed her mother’s warmth before she froze. Cushioning down on the cotton blanket, she shuffled close and, with her hoof, hooked Pupa and drew her to her chest, pressing their cheeks together.

She listened to her breathing: it sounded laboured and hard on her little lungs without the aid of an oxygen mask, like one of her toys was rattling around in her ribcage. Her heart would not be able to take it for much longer.

It was happening all over again. There was nothing she could do to stop it all the other times and there was nothing she could do to stop it now.

Memories came flooding back to the aged Queen, ones she had been shoving to the back of her head for so many years.

“Mama…”

The colt lay tucked between her forelegs. The skin beneath his fur had paled greatly, save for the enormous dark green blotches partly wrapped up that covered nearly half of his abdomen, and all his legs fell limp, the greatest amount of effort needed to lift just one. His body was, after so long putting up great resistance to much suffering, giving in. The wobble in his tiny voice indicated he knew it and accepted it, the desire for the pain to end greater than the one to struggle on.

Only two torches mounted to the walls created the minuscule amount of light in the dark room. It was the more comforting that way. Several servants knelt down by their bed, forming a protective ring around the royal pair as they awaited the inevitable.

Chrysalis levitated the water from the basin and let it flow into the colt’s partly open lips, rubbing his throat to help him swallow. She tried to hold a strong face for him, but she could not hide the glistening in her harlequin pools or her ears that were laid back flat. She felt her heart literally lurch in her chest when he spoke in his raspy, strained voice.

“Shhh, don’t say anything,” she replied, keeping her tone soothing and gentle, brushing away his fringe that was clinging to his clammy forehead by cold sweat. “I’m here for you. Drink.”

The doctors said there was nothing they could do for him or to halt the nonstop bleeding; they gave him days. All they could suggest was she spend his final hours with him, making sure he was comfortable.

The water did nothing to help. He continued trembling in his mother’s legs, feeling whatever was left of his energy leaving his body, numbness gradually overtaking his senses. Soon, it would become too much of a chore to even breath.

“But I’m cold,” he whimpered, his tiny voice cracking.

Hearing those words chilled the Changeling Queen to the bone. She nuzzled his cheek.

“I know. Close your eyes and go to sleep now, dearest. It will be alright.”

That was a lie. She was always a bad liar, in spite of what she thought.

He did not want to sleep yet. He tried clawing himself closer to her, but she spared him the suffering and brought the precious little thing to her chest for him, her chin resting upon the crown of his head and hugging him so tight he could have disappeared into her bosom.

His wide, dull eyes finally fluttered shut, and one final murmur escaped his white lips.

“I love you, Mama.”

Chrysalis felt her entire being quiver and the dam in her eyes broke. She whispered back when she could at last find the words to speak.

“I love you, too.”

It was neither the first nor the last time she experienced such a grave loss. Her son was placed snugly in his tiny coffin and slid into the pearly white family tomb with his brothers and sisters where he could be with them and his ancestors for the rest of time. Several fillies and unhatched eggs followed, none of them long for this world.

With all her so-called ‘almighty, tremendous’ powers, Chrysalis still could not save any of them.

Her Pupa was the last, her last child to survive into fillyhood. As such, she was the only legitimate heir to the changeling throne. Now, as the White Changeling of Death came for her, the line of succession was jeopardised and a powder keg of chaos was about to be unleashed upon their kingdom. But none of that mattered anymore. She and her daughter, here and now in the latter’s final hours, were all that mattered in her mind.

Chrysalis racked her brain, searching hard for pleasant memories of them together to give her some solace, but it became frustratingly apparent that said memories seemed too few and far between. She did manage to pluck one, right from the very beginning, and it tugged a fond smile at the corner of her mouth as she brushed a part in Pupa’s mane.

The icy winter winds and snow violently rattled the window panes of Chrysalis’ chamber, and blocked out the pitch black of early morning with a thin layer of white. The Queen herself laid bedridden, face drenched in cold sweat, every muscle aching with ceaseless pain and long, shuddering breaths being forced into her raw, overworked lungs. She had gone through the same agonizing pain so many times now, but it never got the slightest bit easier.

It had been such a long, difficult process, far more than the others were. It took her several hours to finally push the damn egg out of her: it was so big it nearly tore her in half coming out! Now it had been days since that horrible moment, but instead of feeling any kind of relief, she found herself in pain still and confined to her bed since. The doctors administered her with drugs to alleviate her suffering, while constantly making sure to treat her against the dangerously real threat of infection.

Chrysalis’ mind was rendered a shambles, clouded with the results of countless sleepless nights, the intense strain on her body and her reliance on the drugs. Focusing her depleted strength, she tried to open her eyes and look around for help, but her eyelids felt like they were made of lead, with days-old grey bags setting beneath the black, flaky skin under her eyes. Instead, she let out a loud, painful groan, trying to get somechangeling’s attention.

One of the older midwives in the room, a white-headed griffin standing tall amongst the shorter, less stocky changelings, came to her bedside, holding a soaked cloth in her claws and dabbed it against the Queen’s forehead.

“Shhh, meine Liebe,” she whispered gently, her foreign accent distinguishable to the drowsy mare. “Do not stress yourself. You need your rest.”

Chrysalis cringed with discomfort and swatted the cold rag away. She let out a faint whimper, trying to tell her something, but it was almost too quiet for the nurse to hear. It sounded like, “I want my egg.”

“Vat?” she asked. The Queen’s bloodshot eyes forced themselves open and she grabbed the nurse roughly by the collar, trying to pull her exhausted body up.

“I want my egg!” she cried pathetically, tears brimming and pounding her legs against the blanket like an upset filly having a tantrum. “P-Please, I just want to hold it!”

“Nein, Your Majesty,” the nurse responded firmly, her superior griffin strength holding Chrysalis down. “I’ve told you, it needs to remain in its incubator until ze time comes for hatching.”

“But… but I need it! Please, only for a little while…”

The nurse shook her head and pressed the wet cloth delicately on her cheek, taking one of her shaking hooves in her large but surprisingly gentle claws and stroked it tenderly like a loving mother would. “Ze egg vill hatch any day now, und then you can hold your baby all you vant.”

Chrysalis felt her lip tremble and she choked back a sob, but submitted, nestling her heavy head back into her pillow. All she really wanted was her little grub, to hold it in her legs and admire its adorable smiling face and see for herself that it was okay. She had gone through so much grief; time and time again these moments, which were supposed to be so wonderful for her and the royal family, were cursed to be short-lived and marred by loss and heartache of the worst kind.

She would not say it out loud for those to hear, but inwardly she prayed, no, begged the Kami to have mercy not on her, but on the little one whose fragile heart beat from inside its smooth, hollow vessel.

As the griffin midwife began pouring a vivid blue potion onto a silver spoon and shoved it between her patient’s lips, she could not resist feeling a great sympathy for this Queen; she had helped deliver hundreds of children in her long career, be they foals or the eggs of chicks or larvae, and it was cruel to keep the child and mother apart. But the egg was simply too large and in greater need for warmth than the Queen could provide. For the little one’s welfare, it needed to remain within the safer confines of the incubator, until the moment of joy finally came.

“Swallow it,” she grunted, pinching Chrysalis’ muzzle. The mare had no choice but to swallow the vile potion she kept trapped in her cheeks, leaving behind in her throat a horrible burning sensation. “Honestly, I did not expect ze Queen of ze Changelings to act like such a chick. Sleep.” She finished definitively by personally closing her eyelids shut with her talons.

Chrysalis knew fighting back was futile, especially against a creature that could easily throttle her in her weakened state. She would simply have to force herself back to sleep, the only thing she was able to these last few days of Tartarus, besides being spoon-fed morsels and medicine and be tossed around like a rag doll as the servants changed her sheets.

She slowly drifted off once more. Her last thoughts were on her baby, what it would look like, how big it would be, whether it would be a beautiful filly or a handsome colt. These thoughts provided her with some comfort and very nearly lulled her to sleep, until…

Knock, knock, knock, came the rapid beats against the chamber doors.

One of the changeling nurses immediately flew over and opened the doors. On the other side stood a static mare whose grin reached ear-to-ear and her cheeks were flushing green. Chrysalis heard some excited chatter between the two and forced her eyes open to see one of them standing right over her, looking like she was about to explode with anticipation.

“Your Majesty, wonderful news!” she chirped, beaming. “The egg has just hatched!”

Feeling a surge of adrenaline through her tired muscles, Chrysalis sat up straight in a millisecond, jaw dropped and eyes bugging.

“It has? W-where is it? Is it okay?!” she jabbered quickly, immediately losing her balance, the nurses having to hold her by her cold, wet shoulders. “Is it a colt or a filly?”

“Easy!” snapped the griffin nurse, barging in and taking the nurse who just broke the news aside a moment. “What are you talking about? The egg shouldn’t have hatched yet.”

The mare was too excited to let her elation dampened by the griffin’s dowdy attitude.

“I know, isn’t it marvellous?” She slipped her way out of her muscular grip and kneeling down by Chrysalis’ bedside. “It’s a beautiful filly, my Queen. You have a daughter.”

A daughter. She had a daughter. She managed to smile and shed a few tears as she experienced the tidal wave of simultaneous emotions. Being a mother of a newborn grub once more brought her those same feelings joy, relief, pride, but lingering anxiety as well, as was natural.

“Is she alright?”

“Yes. She’s a bit underweight, but otherwise completely healthy.”

Another nurse asked her, pointing to the door, “Shall we make the announcement?”

“Yes,” Chrysalis breathed, her voice filled with relief, reclining back into her hot, sticky bed. One of the nurses reapplied the wet cloth to her head, this time she welcomed it gratefully.

The griffin nurse rolled her eyes and trekked her way to the doors with the others, looking back and asking, “I suppose you wish us to bring you your newborn?”

“I’d like that very much.”

So they did. A couple of nurses left to fetch the newborn, while the rest stayed behind to prepare the room; they opened the windows ajar to let some fresh air in, moved some furniture aside and changed the Queen’s sheets for the umpteenth time, as well giving her a good wash. Things needed to be made as neat and proper as possible for the first meeting between the Queen and the new Crown Princess.

Minutes later, the nurses returned with a column of the Queen’s personal hoofmaidens and a young servant in tow, a good-looking mare with a lavender mane tied back in a ponytail, who was tenderly holding a thick white bundle of blankets in her foreleg as they hovered over to Chrysalis’ bedside.

“Your Majesty...” The servant got on her knees and outstretched her legs, passing the heavy bundle over to her sovereign, a smile on her face and shedding tears of joy. “Your daughter.”

The moment Chrysalis’ harlequin gaze met with those of the tiny grub, half curled up in vein of a pill-bug in the wrapped blankets and now resting restlessly in her legs, she could literally feel her heart melting like a stick of butter. Her adorable, well-rounded chubby face stuck out from her wormy body resembling a snuggly grey sleeping bag and the numerous feelers, which were pitifully thin compared to the rest of her bulk, waved helplessly, lightly tickling Chrysalis’ face the closer the latter brought her, the tips of their muzzles bopping.

“Hello there,” she whispered, near inaudibly, ignoring her own tears of happiness flowing from her eyes.

Moments passed before a word was uttered by anychangeling. Chrysalis bounced the still squirming grub about in her hold for a while as she made cooing noises and showered her in sticky wet kisses and licks of her long, viper-like tongue at her face and neck to sooth her once she started crying. It was successful when the filly grub burst out giggling, saliva firing out of her mouth like a gunshot and all over Chrysalis’ muzzle. One of the hoofmaidens already gave her a hoofkerchief before the last drop landed on her fur.

“Look at you,” Chrysalis chuckled with amusement, wiping up the drool on her grub’s face first, then her own. She bounced her some more, in an inspecting manner. “You are one beautiful grub. Just like your Mama. A bit of a dribbler, though. Pretty light, too.”

“Do not worry, Your Majesty,” said one of the hoofmaidens, who took the liberty of perching themselves around the Queen’s bed like a wake of vultures to fawn over the newest edition to the royal family. She shoved her mug in, trying to get a better look at the grub. “We’ll have her fattened up like a good royal grub in no time.”

“Ooh, she’s already grown some mane!” remarked another hoofmaiden, indicating with her hoof to the small mess of gossamer cerulean. “Roachanovs always have the most fabulous manes!”

Chrysalis brushed off their sycophantic compliments, her attention focused entirely on her grub. They almost never broke eye contact, though the little one’s eyes remained squinted and not quite able to focus.

A voice piped up amongst the sea of superficial compliments. “Do you know what you wish to name her, Your Majesty?”

The hoofmaidens fell silent and their cold, judgemental eyes suddenly landed on the servant who stood out like a sore hoof. She gulped and recoiling slightly, blushing in embarrassment, immediately regretting opening her fat mouth.

“Shouldn’t you be leaving now, servant?” the first hoofmaiden asked her icily, more of a politely dressed order than a query.

She was about to do just that with her tail hung shamefully between her legs, when the Queen raised a hoof, looking softly upon the dejected young mare.

“No, she can stay.” The hoofmaidens stared at her like she had grown a third eye below her horn, but she continued. “After watching over my egg and delivering her to me safely, I think she’s earned a good ten minutes or so. What’s your name, dear?”

“Cerci, my Queen,” the young mare answered, dipping her head humbly.

“I actually have, Cerci, thank you for asking,” she said with an almost sincere air to her calm, almost sincere voice. She gazed back down at her grub, planting one more smooch on her puffy cheek before declaring smoothly, “I’m going to call her Pupa.”

The hoofmaidens appeared rather puzzled by this name choice, cocking their brows and staring at each other for some kind of clue or hint as to why. Pupa. It was by not necessarily the most popular name in the kingdom, which itself was not a major problem, but there were a slim number of changeling royals who bore the mantle. Chrysalis noticed their confusion and rolled their eyes.

“A special child deserves a special name, wouldn’t you agree? I remember many of the consorts of the past being called Pupa. Now my daughter will be the Changeling Kingdom’s first Queen Pupa.”

“I think it’s a darling name,” Cerci chimed, her tone not indicating the kind of toadying to be expected from the hoofmaidens. “It’s short, simple and sweet.”

Following suit, the hoofmaidens broke into deafening agreements like a brood of clucking hens. Amidst the chatter, the newly named grub blinked and yawned loudly, encouraging the mother to bring her closer to chest and let her snuggle into her sheening grey coat. Chrysalis perched her strong chin carefully over her daughter’s head, protecting her from any invisible forces that may pose a threat to her.

“You’re going to be a perfect, pretty Princess,” she murmured sweetly into her little bat-like ears, her heart swelling with so much pride it could clog her throat. “And when you grow up, you’ll be a great Queen, even greater than your mother. You’ll be the jewel of all our lives. My little Pupa-chan.”

That was one of their happier times. For many weeks after she was born, Chrysalis had Pupa more protected than the rarest artworks in the Louvre in Prance, with guards stationed at every door and corner in the perimeter surrounding her nursery, armed to the fangs, sparing no expense, making Pupa probably the most expensively protected grub in the world. It was not long before Cerci was also hired around the same time as Pupa’s head nanny and carer; she had chosen the right time to make the right impression on the Queen.

The first years – the grub stage – were the smoothest. Pupa was born a beautiful, reasonably healthy infant and immediately fattened up until she was the size and shape of a beach ball, sometimes being fed love by three servants at once for hours. Statistically, many grubs born to peasants experienced problems when they began growing into fillies and colts and sprouting their legs and wings, due to widespread malnourishment, uncleanliness and disease; in her caring, clean royal environment Pupa should have had little to no problems evolving.

‘How did it all go so wrong?’ Chrysalis inwardly sighed mournfully.

‘You know what happened,’ echoed a deep, snarling voice filled with contempt in the back of her head. ‘Let’s not forget what happened not so long after, dearest.’

Chrysalis chomped hard on her lip, her fangs drawing thin lines of blood. How could she forget?

The griffin doctor, dressed in a sheening black suit and waistcoat, loomed over the Princess’ crib in a manner not too dissimilar to a father keeping a watchful, protective eye of his eggs or chicks. He kept his cold, yet inquisitive eyes on the half-formed filly laying snugly in her blankets as he waved his dimly glowing wand over her large head at a snail’s pace.

Pupa blinked curiously at the strange bird-like creature as she suckled noisily on her oversized pacifier, cooing and gurgling and wiggling her four new teeny tiny legs, all half-submerged in her still rounded grub-like body, none appearing quite the same as the other. The child had nearly completed her evolution into a filly, having already lost her useless feelers to be replaced by four pony legs, whilst her back had recently sprouted her translucent wings, her horn growing tall and twisted at an aggressive rate, and the rest of her body to soon take on a more equine shape.

Soon, the griffin stopped what he was doing and turned away to face the collection of different creatures standing in the darkened nursery. Only a desk lamp was left lit, casting everychangeling in the room in an unsettling shadow.

That was the best word to describe the feeling in the room: unsettled. A dreary mood filled the air, manifesting itself with the expressions of doom on everychangeling’s face. The ignorant grub could not comprehend what was going on, which was probably all for the best. She yawned lightly before curling herself up a bit, burying her face into the smooth coat of her chest.

The grownups in the room consisted of three other doctors – a changeling, a diamond dog and a wildebeest – the relatively new nanny Cerci, and Her Royal Majesty herself. The griffin looked at his Changeling counterpart and gave him a nod, seemingly one of grim confirmation, and the changeling nodded slightly in reply, staring mutely at the elaborate, expensive carpet on which he stood.

Everychangeling began filing out of the room without making a sound, not even that of a hoof, paw or talon crunching the carpet or creaking the old wooden floorboards. Only Cerci remained, standing protectively by the crib and gazing worryingly over the grub she held more important to her than anychangeling else. She reached into the crib, pulling up her blankets and licked her cheek, and hummed for her her favourite lullaby, helping her on her trip to the dream world.

Outside, the group walked their down the hallway and out onto a balcony. It was a cool, silent night, with the lights of the metropolis surrounding the citadel serving as a beacon in the pitch-black, outshining Princess Luna’s moon. In most modern world cities, the tranquillity of night was disturbed by the hustle and bustle of the night industry, but not hers, not tonight. Tonight, it was like the entire capital had turned into a graveyard.

Queen Chrysalis stood apart from the group of multi-species doctors, preferring for the moment to observe her city in all its dignified glory: the biggest, wealthiest and most militarily protected in the Far East, her city stood out as a landmark of modernity in this still largely undeveloped part of the world.

“The Princess’ symptoms worried me,” spoke the changeling doctor as the others stood behind him, making sure he chose every world carefully around the Queen. “I made some tests – a blood sample, a head scan, a physical; I wanted to be thorough. I’m not a specialist in this area, but I’m afraid my fellow doctors agree.”

Chrysalis turned away from the city skyline and looked the doctor in the eye.

“So there’s no doubt of it?” she asked plainly, her voice not indicating either anger or fear. The wildebeest and the griffin shook their heads. “No doubt of any kind?”

“The Princess’ legs and wings are growing disproportionate to each other. Her left foreleg and both wings are growing especially undersized.”

“... I see,” Chrysalis spoke after a pause, small cracks appearing in her regal bearing and her eyes wavering from them, becoming unfixed on anything.

“Ve also checked her wings as you requested,” continued the griffin stoically, maintaining a composed, professional demeanour throughout the whole affair. “Ve weren’t sure at first, given they’re only weeks old, but ve measured them and compared them to ze national average. Zey’re growing at a much slower rate than normal und their size is unnaturally smaller than they should be. Her horn, however, seems to be growing fine.” He added the last part seemingly as if it may offer some comfort to the matriarch, however slim that may be.

Chrysalis did not respond, choosing to avert her sullen eyes. Her expression was difficult to read, while the rest of her body gave the appearance of slumping, like the unseen puppeteer who was holding her up aloofly was cutting the wires.

“Your Majesty—“

“Give me a moment.”

The command was crisp, as if speaking to one of her maids, but her upset, while stifled, was present. But the doctors understood and excused her; such information required a moment for a parent to absorb.

The changeling doctor grimaced: there was more they had to tell her, news he knew she would not take well.

“Your Majesty... that’s not all we found.”

“Her physical has revealed the Princess is developing a curvature of the spine,” the wildebeest stated, pushing his glasses back up his muzzle. “Her spine is curving off somewhat to the right when it should be straight.”

The diamond dog, a small female cocker spaniel, took out a set of notes from her jacket’s pocket. “We also discovered from the blood test she has a significantly lower white blood cell count than is healthy for a larva her age.” She added reassuringly when she noticed the mortified look on the monarch’s face, “It’s not life-threatening, but it will still leave her very much vulnerable to illness and infection.”

“I see,” Chrysalis could only repeat like a broken record. When none of them followed up, she reproached them sternly, “If it doesn’t stop there, just get on with it! Spare me your dramatic effect!”

Bracing himself, the changeling doctor sighed. “Very well. Your Majesty, my brain scan picked up... abnormalities. My colleagues repeated the scan and I’m afraid the results were all the same. Her brain is not developing like a normal larva’s should.”

Chrysalis’ jaw hung open, her mouth gaping like a stranded fish for something to say.

“It vill unquestionably result in mental retardation,” the griffin declared conclusively.

The information crashed over Chrysalis’ head like a ton of breaks. Images filled her head of Pupa as a grown mare, weak and enfeebled, shrunk up on the throne in a fetal position, completely unable to attend to the affairs of state while their kingdom collapsed like a stack of cards. She looked down, her shoulders tensing and her breathing becoming louder and furious with each draw.

“No...” She shook her head in fierce denial, her ears laid back flat. “NO!” She looked up at them blazingly and spat, “You’re WRONG!”

“We’re only telling you the facts--”

“MY DAUGHTER CAN’T BE A RETARD!” she screamed, spittle flying from her mouth and her ferocity making the changeling doctor jump back.

She stood seething for few moments before the scared mute doctors, stewing in a crock of bubbling anger. It soon dissipated by the unbidden onset of a migraine headache, to which she rubbed her temple furiously. Or maybe she felt a pang of regret for using such hurtful language about her baby.

Her emotions mellowing, she readdressed them in a calmer tone but keeping a steely visage.

“... I’m sorry. It’s just that none of my other children... none of them suffered like this. W-why is this happening?”

Gathering himself from the Queen’s outburst, the wildebeest answered first. “Your Majesty, these ailments are mostly hereditary,” he told her. “They’re passed down through your family as an ultimate result of continuous generations of intermarriage and the shrinkage of the gene pool. Many of your children were inflicted, as well as other royal family members of recent generations. Your aunt, Princess Arachnia suffered from mental retardation and one of your sons, Prince Leech, he too had a low white blood cell, however, his was…” He trailed off, seeing the glint of pain and warning in the monarch’s eyes, and got to the point. “They strike some family members, while others, like yourself, are more lucky. The Princess, I am afraid, has accumulated many.”

“Right now, we can’t be sure what other disorders she has inherited, but we’ll run more tests to check for anything we’ve missed,” added the diamond dog.

“So what’s the treatment?” Chrysalis asked, rather out of the blue.

“Treatment?”

“Yes, what can you do for her?”

All the doctors looked amongst each other perplexedly. They could all tell the Queen was serious, but that only raised further questions about her intelligence or if she was in denial. The griffin beat the others to the punch.

“Zere’s very little we can do, Your Majesty.”

Chrysalis was not even angry at that statement. She looked more flabbergasted than anything, her hoof raised imploringly to them.

“What are you talking about?!” she half-pleaded, half-snapped, her voice raising a few octaves. “That not possible. This isn’t the dark ages; there must be something you can do! You helped my others! You’re just going to allow Pupa to suffer?!”

Eyeing his tactless colleague crossly, the changeling doctor stepped forward and tried to calm his monarch down, hooves raised in a defensive manner.

“What he meant is that yes, we could help the others, but the Princess’ condition is far more severe than theirs were. We can treat the back with chiropractic therapy and braces, and while there’s this treatment that is still in development for treating low white blood cell counts, all we can recommend for now is keeping her indoors.”

“Ze rest ve can do little to nothing about,” the griffin went on bluntly, his attitude unchanged. “If she vill ever walk or fly, I cannot say, but there is certainly no cure, nor do I believe there ever vill be, for mental retardation.”

Chrysalis knew that was that. She was not talking with a bunch of quacks fresh out of some no name institute; these were some of the finest doctors her extensive wealth could buy. There was no use in denying or bargaining with it; all she could do was to accept her daughter was not the flawless manechuria doll she thought she was months ago when she first held her in her arms.

“So that’s it,” she found herself chuckling mirthlessly. “My daughter will be sick and feeble for her entire life.” She laughed again, trying to force some actual amusement. “And to think, she was supposed to be perfect...”

“We are terribly sorry--“

“SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PERFECT!” she suddenly roared, her voice booming like thunder and she begun to pace up and down, not wanting to listen to their useless apologies. There were much bigger concerns on her mind. “How... how is she to one day succeed me as a strong leader of my people?! Sh-she’ll need to be cared for all the time! What about when there’s another war?!” She stopped, her eyes twitching left and right as her mind calculated something. She whirled and asked them briskly, “How long will she live for?”

“There’s no way of knowing that for certain,” the diamond dog shrugged tiredly. “Some larvae in this situation do not last long, but others grow up to live long and normal lives, relatively speaking.”

“Oh, you mean just like the rest of my children?!” she snarled acidly, pointing her hoof over their heads. “Leave me. All of you! I... need time alone.”

None of them needed to be told twice. In seconds, they had disappeared, pulling the door to the balcony securely shut in their wake.

Chrysalis screamed and slammed her hooves against the leg rest, leaving large indentations in the wood and concrete. She did not weep, but her low groans of pain expressed her internal torture well enough. All her plans, her hopes and dreams for her, Pupa and their dynasty had come crumbling down in one fell swoop. Not even the comforting glow of her great city could provide her solace now.

Pupa’s head rested limp on Chrysalis’ shoulder, her quiet breath tingling the Queen’s skin. Chrysalis kept her head away, trying to cry only on the pillows. She considered humming Pupa a lullaby, something to make her final sleep more comfortable, but was crushed to find she could not think of a single lullaby. Only a real sad excuse for a mother would fail to provide such a basic comfort.

She remembered Pupa’s folded up picture lodged in one of her holes. Taking it out and unfolding it, Chrysalis smiled upon the foalish crayon image: her and Pupa smiling together in a grassy field with the smiley-faced sun shining down over them, with the word ‘SORY’ written in big messy capitals. Any other changeling would mock such a poor doodle, but it was her baby’s work, and to Chrysalis, that made it priceless. She tucked it under Pupa’s lifeless foreleg where it would stay secure. It brought the tiniest of smiles to Chrysalis’ face, but reality wiped it clean off in no time.

She had done this.

She had done this to her child.

Her Pupa was in this bed, hanging onto life by a tether, not just because of one unfortunate incident of Chrysalis losing her temper, but because of the elder mare’s poisonous genes and utter negligence as a mother; she had no one to blame but herself. Who else could she blame? Cerci? For what, raising her daughter for her while she acted like she all but did not exist? Her father? For his years of neglecting her while he was busy waging his wars and thinking of new ways to rip out prisoners' teeth? Her mother? For not being around at all? Her husband?! She had some choice words for him, but what use would there be in blaming that useless buffoon now? No, the fault was hers and hers alone.

It had not been the same with her other children. No matter how much work she had on her plate, she always found time for them. She went out in the gardens with them, visited them in the play room, even come to kiss them goodnight. Had she done any of those things for Pupa?

How could she be so callous to her own flesh and blood? The thought of her actions these last several years gave her heartburn. Where she had given the rest the time of day, she had cast aside her youngest; and the mare’s heart tore in two. Pupa had not deserved this wrong.

The question she desperately tried to answer was why.

‘Because you just didn’t want to know,’ her father’s niggling, derisive voice returned to echo in her mind. ‘You knew she stood no chance the moment they told you the news. So you just detached yourself and let Cerci raise her as her own daughter in all but name. You simply didn’t care.’

“No,” she mouthed, scrunching up her muzzle, but her father’s voice, cruel and relentless, would not let up.

‘You gave up on her at only a few months old. At least with the rest you put something close resembling effort in. But you knew Pupa would never become the Queen you wanted to take your place when you’re gone, even if she survived that long. You gave up. It’s like she’s not even your daughter at all.’

Chrysalis whimpered pathetically, squeezing Pupa’s hoof. “What have I done?”

‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, Chrysi-chan. She was not meant long for this planet; you’ve only sped up the process.’

“Go away!” she yelled, no longer caring who heard. She pulled on her mane; the headache was coming back. Where were her pills?! She recalled she left them back in her chamber. She slapped herself. Idiot!

‘Oh, what, you’re going to cry some more? Like a wittle gwub? Is that it, gwub gwub?’

Chrysalis could do nothing else now but ride it out, and pulled Pupa into one more warm hug, so close together their hearts beat as one.

She did not see the moment’s flash of light, nor hear the sound of hard, metal hoofsteps clicking against the floor.

“Chrysalis?”

The Changeling Queen sat up before her name was finished being said. Her mouth and her narrow pupils shrunk down to size so much it would have looked comical if not for the all too serious situation. When she saw who it was, there were no words.

Princess Celestia did not know what to say. Her bewildered, blushing face read that she knew she had teleported in at a very bad time. Still, there was no turning back now.

“Um, I...”

Celestia did not get the chance to get halfway through her sentence when she was sent flying by a blinding green blast fired from the Queen’s horn.

Author's Note

(A/N) Well, here's Chapter Nine, the longest according to the word count. I'm glad I've finally got to the point where Chrysalis and Celestia physically meet in this story, even if it's at the very end. But I look very much forward to writing these together and having them work off each other in the upcoming chapters.

Also, if the stuff in this chapter ripped out your heart, tore it to millions of pieces, stomped them onto the ground and finally let them on fire... your welcome. Just hope you had some tissues on standby. Would've given you a heads up beforehand, but Fimfiction doesn't give you that option. Oh, well. Enjoy.

Chapter Ten

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Ten

When Celestia regained her senses, an incessant ringing lingered in her ears and a dulled pain throbbed in her well-toned muscles. Her memory put together what had happened to her: she had just been blasted through a hospital wall. She coughed up some dust and steadily rose to all fours, rubbing her pounding head. It was not necessarily the force of the crash that temporarily stunned, but the concentrated power of that fearsome bolt of energy. It struck her square in the chest; a few inches higher and it would have struck her heart, and that would have left some serious damage.

She looked up and narrowed her vision through the hazy cloud of parting dust, where she saw a predator’s harlequin eyes, accompanied by the hulking form of their owner, emerging from the next room over, both fixed on her malevolently like a famished owl on a tasty rodent.

Queen Chrysalis wore a straight face, too calm and restrained to be natural. The fires of Taratarus roaring in her eyes said it all. Her wings were open wide, casting a guard of sorts over the gaping hole in the wall. Protecting who? The Princess could only figure the filly sleeping peacefully in her bed, totally unaware of the chaos unfolding around her.

An animalistic growl emanated from her long, thick throat, “You have picked the wrong day to try and attack me, Celestia!” It came out sounding like a strange crossbreed between a death threat and a hollow snicker.

“Chrysalis, wait! Listen to me!” Celestia shouted over the dying ringing in her ears, holding a defensive position but trying hard to not appear threatening. “I am not here to—”

She did not have time to respond as she barely had enough to deflect Chrysalis’ next assault, sending it into the nearest wall, which was reduced to rubble.

“Silence!” Chrysalis snarled beastly, her voice sharpening for a moment but lowered in an instant, her buggy eyes glancing regularly back into her daughter’s room. She slowly approached Celestia, crouching down like a leopard ready to pounce, the plates on her belly narrowly scraping against the floor. “How dare you show your face here?!”

“I didn’t—”

“You have the gall to slither your way into my kingdom – my home – at a time like this?!”

Celestia looked upon the mare who had caused her and her subjects so much grief in the past, not with anger but with something close to what she would call a wrench of pity. A part of her even wanted to comfort her. She had been through every mother’s worst nightmare come true and she was speaking and acting out of pain and grief (for the most part). Celestia herself did nothing to help the situation by bursting in on her and her child in what was surely a very private moment.

“It was wrong of me to burst in on you both, and I’m sorry! But I haven’t come here to harm you or Pupa!”

“You may be more powerful than me, Celestia, but don’t you dare take me for an idiot! I know what you’re up to...” Chrysalis’ voice lowered to a dangerous level. “You have the audacity to use my daughter’s condition to strike at us when we’re most vulnerable!” she scoffed with disgust, angrily blowing her loose mane from her face. “You will not lay a dirty hoof on me or my child!”

Angered by her baseless accusations, Celestia shouted over her, her tone not far off from the Royal Canterlot Voice and her eye squinched shut from the heat of the beam, “Chrysalis! I haven’t travelled thousands of miles, for days on end, just to pick a fight with you!”

But Chrysalis was still not hearing any of it. “Why should I expect anything more from the likes of you?” She cracked her neck and pawed at the ground, gearing up to the charge. “I’m going to give you one chance: get out of my kingdom or fight me!”

Celestia stood her ground resolutely, ironically looking as if she were to do battle. “I will do neither.”

The changeling’s eyes now glowed so bright with rage that Celestia had to cover her eyes with her hoof; her wings roared deafeningly with life.

“Have it your way!”

A barrage of green beams of power fired from Chrysalis’ horn at Celestia like a dozen fireworks launched at once, casting the grey room in sickly green, with the intention of burning the Princess to a crisp.

Celestia dodged each and every beam effortlessly, receiving only a singed cheek from the last one. She looked ahead and saw Chrysalis taking to the air and lunging at her. This time, Celestia was ready; she caught the changeling in mid-air, but the force sent both hurling into one of the remaining walls.

Both matriarchs fell back and rolled around the floor, grunting and screaming, legs locked around the other as they fought. In actuality, it was Chrysalis who was doing all the fighting; Celestia was busy reeling from the collision and trying her hardest to keep the Queen from burrowing her oversized fangs into her corneas.

She had never anticipated her old foe to put up such a vicious, hooves-on fight. The last time they fought was in her throne room in Canterlot Castle on that fateful day, years ago, and even then, that was a magic duel. Chrysalis never struck her as the type to lower herself to a catfight.

When Chrysalis’ teeth were centimetres from piercing her tender flesh and her rancid breath was burning her nostrils, she resorted to a cheap shot.

For a split second, Celestia’s horn became a fragment of the sun, glowing with brilliance so intense Chrysalis covered her eyes and screamed. Celestia managed to pull her legs up and
deliver a rock hard kick to her spongy belly.

The force of the buck sent her flying right back through the hole in the wall, skipping momentarily against the polished floors before crashing hard into the metal frame of an empty bed.

Her body aching all over, she found her footing and picked herself up on the metal frame. She searched for her nemesis, but to her dismay, her vision had been reduced to nothing but a thick purple haze.

“Where are you?!” she screamed, hysterically blasting in random directions. She could hear the sound of shattering glass and more walls being blown apart, until she felt a leg suddenly hook over her neck.

“Chrysalis, stop!” she heard Celestia’s voice shout into her ear. “Your daughter!”

The changeling’s heart skipped a beat. In her attempts to protect her daughter, she had near enough forgotten all about her presence in the room.

“STAY AWAY FROM HER!” she roared in maternal rage.

Before Celestia knew what happened, Chrysalis’ rapid beating wings had taken both off the floor and straight up at the ceiling. The Princess grimaced and shut her eyes for the next impending...

Crash!

“Lunch, prisoner.”

A tray was slid under the bar doors, carrying a full meal of boiled rice, fried mackerel, sliced daikon radish, noodle salad and a cup of coarse tea. This was a standard lunch for inmates in changeling prisons.

Cerci did not bother lifting her head. She sat curled up against the uncomfortable cell wall, hindlegs crossed and forelegs tucked under the drab prison kimono she was forced to wear. Her unkempt mane was worn low over her face.

She had become introverted pretty quickly since she was dropped off two days ago by the royal guards. None of the prison staff heard as much as a peep from her, not when they gave her her food, not when they came in to change her sheets. She was, for the most part, a model inmate.

The jailer mare walked away indifferently, leaving her to her thoughts.

Cerci regarded the food with a blank expression. Her mouth filled up with saliva and her stomach growled pitifully with hunger. She had not eaten for a long time now. Licking her white lips, she levitated the mackerel over to her and gorged, finishing it off in minutes.

She did not know how long she was going to be kept here, nor when her trial was going to take place, if at all, but she did not care a great deal at this point. She brought her bowl of rice over and, forgetting the chopsticks set there for her, devoured it insatiably.

Cerci had never before much time to think over all the decisions she made in her young life. It was true that for a mare of her status and who was barely out of her twenties, she had accomplished so much more than most of her people.

Being born into a servant family for the palace, Cerci was raised to follow in their hoofsteps; she spent most of her fillyhood helping her mother fold bed sheets and towels as opposed to playing with dolls. Her young marehood remained mostly uneventful; she would wake up, work her flank off in cleaning and washing, and go to bed in her tiny quarters.

By a stroke of fate, the night came when the Queen laid another egg. She was assigned to watch over the egg while it sat in the incubator. When it finally hatched, Cerci was the first to hold the hatchling as she cleaned the slime and fragments of egg shell off her with a warm rag. Following her successful presentation of the royal newborn to Her Majesty, almost overnight, she suddenly found herself the official head nanny to the Crown Princess of the kingdom.

Her life really began when she became Pupa’s nanny. The moment she first held Pupa in her forelegs and looked upon her plump little face, Cerci fell in love with the handicapped hatchling. She knew the Kami must have made it so; they chose her, made it her destiny to raise and nurture her species’ future Queen.

The memories of their times together brought a weak smile onto her lips. Every bedtime, every painting session, every walk through the gardens, they provided her so much warmth in this dank cell. Many of her peers remarked on how she, at her age, had no children of her own; her reason was that she already had one. Pupa was all she needed.

A lump swelled up in her throat and she began quietly sobbing, the first time since her first night here. She kicked her empty rice bowl in frustration, sending it shattering against the wall.

It was not fair. Why did this have to happen? Her whole life cruelly snatched from her by that, that... she-beast! Pupa was all she had and Chrysalis took her away from her! She was happy she got to hook that monster right in her fat, ugly face. If the guards had not intervened, she would have done a lot worse than chip her tooth.

Cerci lifted her head. She could hear something outside her window. It was an unnatural noise to the city life buzzing on outside the prison, growing louder with each passing second. If she could put her hoof on it, she could best describe it as a whistle being blown miles away.

Finding her strength, she got up and stumbled over to her little window. She had become really weak in here, more than she thought. She held onto the tiny bars and pulled herself onto her hindlegs, standing like some kind of primate. The young mare looked out upon the two wooden and concrete towers blocking out most of the sky, leaving only a thin gap between them.

Cerci could see something far off in the distance: a pair of lights, one green, the other yellow. It looked like somechangeling had accidentally set off some fireworks. They were both glowing with increasing intensity and the whistling sound unmistakeably coming from them was growing so loud that her ears began to ache.

The abrupt boom that followed sent her falling to the floor before her the light could permanently blind her. Her head crashed hard against the concrete and the blow knocked her out cold.

Queen Chrysalis and Princess Celestia tumbled through the smoggy, grey sky of the city skyline, ricocheting off the towers and rooftops. The Changeling Queen screamed bloody murder as she used the confusion to unleash every last ounce of burning fury on the Alicorn. She was still partially blinded, but she could make out the large blob of blurry white in front of her and realised she was close enough to relentlessly beat it.

“Come on, Tia!” she yelled over the wind. “Show me some of that real Alicorn power!”

Celestia’s strong, durable body absorbed most of the blows, but both it and her defensive position could not hold out forever. If she wanted, she could cave Chrysalis skull in with one swift kick, but whilst she was tempted, she was a few thousand years wise enough to know that doing that was not in anypony’s best interests.

She could win, that much was certain. There was something off about the Queen: her strength was fuelled by the instinct to protect her offspring, yet she was unable to utilize it to fight effectively. She was becoming increasingly unhinged. Sooner or later, Chrysalis would either run out of steam, or....

They slammed into the wall of an old building - now converted into a hotel - and bounced right off like a rubber ball. Their fall was broken by landing in the middle of a busy market street, squarely on one unfortunate vender’s cart.

“My cabbages!” the changeling stallion cried, pulling at his mane and falling to his knees as splintered wood and shreds of greenery were sent flying all around him. His despair turned to indignation when he spotted two forms rising from the wreckage. “You’re going to pay for this! You’re-- Aaagh!”

He leaped back as Chrysalis, bruised and covered with cuts, stood up, holding the limp Alicorn up over her head. She grunted and flung her across the street’s pavement, skidding like a pebble over a pond until her ribs collided with a street lamp.

Celestia struggled for a moment before she could fully get up, holding the inflicted area. She was going to be feeling that one for a while. She wiped a trickle of blood from her lips and held her chest; to her surprise, she was covered in more bruises than her mortal counterpart was and noticed a black eye forming on the left side of her face in her reflection in a street puddle.

Meanwhile, in the commotion, anychangeling with a lick of sense fled the scene screaming, most of them taking to the sky like a flock of spooked pigeons, leaving the once bustling street all but deserted.

In an unofficial ‘time out’ that had developed, a little laugh managed to bubble from Chrysalis’ raw throat as she busied herself with nursing a gash on her leg and caught her breath. “You know, I have to give you credit, Celestia...”

“Oh, really?” A little smile appeared on Celestia’s face, head held down, humouring her.

“Maybe old age hasn’t hampered you just yet,” she rasped, wiping away a thick coating of sweat from her face. “You can actually hold yourself in a fight without your precious student and her band of flunkies doing your dirty work for you!”

“I work out,” she replied semi-playfully. Celestia then took the moment to realize just how out of shape and overweight the Queen now was in comparison to her own sleek and slender white body. In no uncertain terms, Chrysalis had well and truly let herself go.

Just as the dark mare was about to make her move, their sensitive ears picked up the loud clank of moving armour. They turned their heads to see at least two dozen stallions of the Changeling Royal Guard surrounding the premises, all armed with long, spiked spears.

Chrysalis formed an unhinged smirk. She now had backup!

“Guards!” she addressed them, trying to maintain an air of authority, but betrayed by her badly wheezing voice. She pointed at the Princess, shaking, “Arrest Princess Celestia!”

None of the guards moved. They instead looked at each other concerned, noticeable breaks appearing in their otherwise stony faces. Moments passed and both expecting monarchs grew more confused (one, however, more irate than the other) as nothing happened.

“Well...? What are you idiots waiting for?” she barked, veins rising on her neck. “Get her!”

A commanding officer in purple armour gulped and stepped out in front of his compatriots. He spoke shakily, while all his years of strict military training crumbled in her presence, “Your Majesty... we are under strict orders to escort you and Princess Celestia back to the palace.”

“What? What?!” Chrysalis’ pitch reached a near ridiculous height. Not once could she recall in her memory a single instance when a soldier outright denied her orders. “I am your Queen! You take your orders from me! And I am ordering you to arrest that pony pig, NOW!”

The guards could feel their stallionhoods being torn off by the tone of her voice alone, but they held their ground. None had the nerve to follow Chrysalis’ orders and advance on the Alicorn; to do so would be moronic, considering they knew this was a creature who could melt their faces off with the sheer intense heat of the sun with a thought.

“Chrysalis, stop this!”

Everychangeling looked up in time to see Prince Pincer landing gracefully within the triangle of equines. His horn glowed vivid amber, waving it at both monarchs in a warning fashion to keep them apart.

“Stay out of this, Uncle!” Chrysalis spat, unhindered by his interference. “This is between the Princess and I!”

“And you don’t mind destroying the city in the process?!” In truth, the damage to the surroundings buildings so far was bad enough, and it was inevitably going to get worse if these two super powered beings were allowed to continue fighting.

“If it’s worth anything, Your Highness,” Celestia spoke reasonably, feeling somewhat like she was being left out of the conversation, “I’m not exactly the one fighting here.”

“SHUT UP!” Chrysalis whirled on the cowering guards and growled, “I’m about to count down from three... and if you don’t attack by the time I reach one, I’ll have you and your hatchlings burned!” Madness glinted in her buggy eye as a very large ball of green magic formed on the tip of her crooked horn, growing only larger as she counted. “Three... two...”

Treating her magic as if it were a foal's ball, she reared her head and heaved it back, crackling and glowing in flashes of bright luminescent greens and yellows, filling more and more with her power, until she was second was from flinging her head forward in a wide arch.

“ONE!”

Using every muscle in her body, she threw the ball of death at the stallions, its intent plainly and painfully obvious. But before it was inches away from her own muzzle, Chrysalis was suddenly rammed into by a glowing white force, once again robbing her of her vision.

The ball irrupted in a deafening explosion which threw her across the air like a swatted fly.

The capital city was well-known as a hub for the finest bathhouses in the Changeling Kingdom. These facilities were open to the rich and poor, but the most lavish were, naturally, only open to changelings whose money bags were big enough and heavy enough or whose names carried at least an iota of weight.

Baroness Apamea cringed as she lowered herself into the hot onsen up to her hips, the hot steam rising off her thick curves. The private room was completely fogged with it, blurring her sight as she tried steadying herself in her descent.

“Oh, Apamea, just get in.”

She glared at her much slimmer companion, who was contently submerged up to the neck with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. Lady Silkworm raised her slender hind leg delicately from the waters, admiring her freshly done silver palm tree hooficure.

“I’m getting fitted for a new swimsuit, tomorrow. How’re my legs looking?”

“Fine,” she said, not paying attention. Submerging herself up to her chest, Apamea scooped up some water and rubbed it against her face, shoulders and withers. Her chubby coat wobbled and squished under her hooves as she moistened herself.

“So, Apa,” Silkworm began silkily, lowering her now chilly leg back into the warm, healing waters. “How’s been your visit to the city, so far?”

Her muzzle wrinkled, saying with revulsion, “The air is filthy here.”

“You get used to it after a while,” she shrugged. Having lived in the capital all her life, she understood the gagging stench of smog in the air was part of everyday changelings’ lives, but at the same time, being an aristocrat accustomed to indoor living, for her, it was more of a minor inconvenience. “Have you done anything interesting?”

“Not really,” Apamea groaned, looking pretty dismal. “I visited the palace two days ago.”

“Judging by the miserable look on your face, I take it you didn’t get an audience with the Queen?”

“Of course not.” Apamea crossed her legs and sunk further into the onsen. “The best I got was Princess Danauria, and you know that’s not something you travel days on end for.”

The Lady rolled her eyes and dipped the back of her head in the water, washing her mane. “Oh, I know what you mean. I can’t stand being around Princess Pigeon Legs for more than five minutes.”

“Actually...” she now perked up, a sly grin working its way on her lips as she remembered something important. “I did get to see somechangeling else.”

“Who?”

“The littlest Princess.”

Silkworm blinked, half-grinning like her friend was playing with her. “No.”

“When we were playing croquette in the gardens and she and her nanny just showed up.”

“That’s rare. Say...” She pushed away from her end of the onsen to the middle and motioned her to follow suit, which she did. “The Princess, does she really look, you know...” she made a derped, wall-eyed expression.

Getting the hint, Apamea grinned toothily and replied in a hushed voiced, “Oh, really, it shows.”

The two were now huddled up with their backs pressed together, their voices covered up by the hissing and bubbling and their gossip confined to the whispering in each other’s ears.

“Can she walk?”

“Not from what I saw. She’s carried around a lot.”

“Like a grub?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Oooh, that’s interesting. What else?”

“Well...”

KA-BLAM!

The noblechangelings screamed out loud as the wall and their onsen both suddenly exploded and they were thrown across the room in a wave of spring water.

Chrysalis and Celestia skidded over the wrecked wet tiles, legs locked as they rolled over each other in a bizarre circular motion. Their short trip ended when they splashed into one of the still intact onsens.

As they sunk into the bubbling hot spring water, the changeling used the opportunity to strike a few more blows at the Princess. Unfortunately for her, Celestia, having had more than enough, caught her by surprise and delivered a swift kick to her jaw, resulting in a muffled cracking sound. Chrysalis tried striking back, but only received another rock hard blow to the jaw and a sharp jab to her stomach, knocking all the air out of her lungs.

Desperately, she swam to the surface, gasping for air. She felt something grab her by the leg and drag her back beneath the surface again. She looked around to see Celestia’s hoof torpedoing through the water in the direction of her face. Chrysalis opened her mouth to scream and bubbles streamed out before she was punched unconscious.

Back on the surface, Lady Silkworm was laying on her back, drenched and writhing with pain. She tried pulling herself up, but floundered like a beached fish. She lifted her head, disoriented, and saw Apamea’s big fat flank, tail and thick hindlegs kicking and wiggling helplessly from a newly made crevice in the wall, her muffled screams and grunts echoing from the other side. Silkworm snickered, holding her bruised, if not broken ribs.

She heard the sound of displaced water and saw her Queen’s bulking form arise from the onsen and flop face-first against the floor. She was followed right after by Princess Celestia, who was panting loudly and struggling with exhaustion to keep on her hooves.

She spotted Silkworm and said, out of breath, “Be a dear, would you, and call a doctor?”

With that, the Princess of the Sun gave out a final painful groan and collapsed against Chrysalis’ unconscious form.

Author's Note

(A/N) Hey hey, everychangeling, it's me again, sorry for the two month delay. A lot of stuff has been going in my life recently, but I'm alright and don't worry, this story is far from dead. Also, as you can see, I'm not that great with action sequences. I hope you guys found it okay, but yeah, it's definitely not my strong suit.

Regardless, enjoy.

Chapter Eleven

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Eleven

Philomena enjoyed the solitary nights she spent out in flight. Princess Celestia was kind enough to let her fly over Canterlot every night; she glided over the dazzling city of lights at night, letting her gorgeous red-feathered body be engulfed in the warm glow.

The opportunity she was given this day was different; she was given the opportunity to soar over the skyline of the Changeling capital city, a metropolis of just as wood as concrete, something she had not seen for more than a century. For the centuries old phoenix whose life had mostly been lived in the Equestrian continent, the experience was very exotic; the lights (which were starting to come on at this time) were candlelit and the air was more humid than what she was used to.

Her excursion around the city was not to last long; she had her orders from her mistress. She arrived at her destination at King Cocoon Hospital around dusk, not too long after the fight between her mistress and Queen Chrysalis destroyed the peace and took some buildings along with it. It made sense to her that her target was going to be moved after what had recently happened, but tracking her down was not the difficult part, because that came in the form of a horde of apoplectic doctors and nurses.

“You two, get that dirty beast away from the Princess, at once!” Dr Kemushi shouted at the two beefy stallion orderlies, pointing at the phoenix that was perched over Pupa’s body, her face blushing green with anger. The creature had appeared in the hospital room ten minutes ago and refused to leave the Princess’ side. She refused absolutely to leave her side.

The orderlies, however, had no chance in laying a single hoof on Philomena, who, once she flew away from their attacks, landed right back in place. Some of the doctors went as far as firing bolts of magic at her.

Philomena’s eyes lit bright yellow; she spread her wings threateningly and cawed at them with the force of thunder, rattling the hospital windows and skittering the changelings in front of her like bowling pins.

The doors kicked open and a group of stallions clad in golden armour marched in. All of them were ponies, white and beige in colour and significantly taller and stronger built than their changeling counterparts.

“I told you she’s in here! Move, move!” the unicorn stallion at the head of the group shouted, pointing at the phoenix. His comrades followed him uniformly into the room, accompanied by the loud chinking, clanking sound of their armour that would be too heavy for any normal pony to carry. These were members of the Equestrian Royal Guard, the few hoofpicked by Princess Celestia herself to accompany her to the Changeling Kingdom.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Dr Kemushi demanded, flabbergasted.

The unicorn turned back to one of his subordinates, ignoring the doctor completely, instructing him, “Go and tell the Princess she has arrived and the procedure can begin.”

“Yes, Commander Mirror Match, sir.” He saluted him and galloped off without another word.

Dr Kemushi now looked like she was about to blow a gasket. She stormed right up in the unicorn’s face like she was going to tear it off with her bared teeth.

“HEY! I don’t know who in Tartarus you think you are, but you must have a lot of nerve if you think you and your grunts can just barge in here whenever you feel like!” she screamed at him outraged, whose straight, emotionless face did not flinch, even when her spit flew in his eyes. “Now all of you get out! And while you’re at it, take that beast with you!”

“That ‘beast’, as you call her, ma’am,” Mirror Match started, getting back into her face, keeping his tone calm but with noticeable underlying anger, “is a ‘phoenix’, and she belongs to Princess Celestia.”

“I don’t care what she is or who she belongs to, the Crown Princess is in critical condition and that creature will harm her!” She jabbed him violently in the shoulder with her hoof, daring the stallion to try and strike her, even though as a changeling mare, she stood some feet over him.

“Halt!”

Another set of loud hoofsteps echoed from outside and a second group of soldiers entered the room in an organized formation, except this time, all of them were members of the Changeling Royal Guard. At their lead was Captain Beetle, who looked just livid enough he was about ready to buck somechangelings’ heads in.

The changeling guards flooded the room to the point where nochangeling and nopony could budge. Almost instantly, both sides broke out yelling at each other, drowning out any individual’s voice. Beetle roughly grabbed Mirror Match and took him aside to berate him.

“Captain, you were specifically ordered to wait in your quarters until my guards came for you!”

“We did wait! We waited for hours but nopony came!” Mirror Match argued, trying hard to be reasonable. “As the Equestrian Royal Guard, we are obliged to follow the orders of our Princess.”

“And you fail to recognize that while you are guests in our kingdom you are obligated to adhere to our rules first and foremost!”

“That’s it!” Kemushi roared, stomping her hoof so hard the room fell silent and all heads turned to her. “I want you all out of here, now!”

The rest of the pony guards were seriously getting fed up with the doctor’s attitude and one pegasus, a beige stallion named Slick Wing, stepped in front of his comrades and glared her down. If it was not for years of training and discipline or the fact that he was on duty, he would have clocked this jacked-up cockroach in her ugly mug.

“Hey! Back off, sweetheart!” he snapped, pushing away her hole-ridden hoof. “If you’d listen for one damn second, you’d know Princess Celestia has sent her here.”

She sneered, “Oh, I’m sure.”

Mirror Match too was becoming very frustrated by now, with the doctors, the changeling guards and the whole situation in general. He took a letter folded into a small square out from his chest plate and gave it to the doctor.

“Here,” he told her gruffly. “Just read this. It explains everything.”

Still holding her sneer, Kemushi unfolded the small, brown piece of paper and began reading, turning her back to the ponies. She said not a word, except for the occasional mumble or murmur as she read. Every pony and changeling remained quiet until she was done.

When Kemushi finished rereading the note for the second time, she looked up and down repeatedly from the letter to the ponies bewilderedly. She regrouped with Kemushi and her coworkers and they started conversing in their native language, some peaking over each other to glance at the ponies and the unconscious princess before returning to their huddle. The guards waited patiently in the ensuing awkward silence.

The group eventually broke up and Dr Kemushi, at their head, asked them with a hint of hope in her voice, “And your Princess believes this will work?”

“I told you, we’re only following her orders.”

“You cannot be serious!” brayed one especially sceptical stallion doctor, a short stub of a changeling who glared at the foreigners with an intense disdain, like their presence alone was making the whole room unsanitary. “Your method has no solid scientific basis. It has not been thoroughly analysed or tested to prove the medical benefits.”

Slick Wing retorted bluntly, “It’s not science, it’s magic.”

Speaking again in their language, Dr Kemushi seemingly gave her colleague a reprimand and then issued instructions to her fellow changelings, who immediately got to work fetching and setting up the hospital apparatus, now leaving the phoenix alone for the time being with Pupa. Meanwhile, the guards were left on the side-lines again. Mirror Match made several hoof gestures to them and they all took their positions around the room while the doctors worked.

One changeling set up a pole with a couple of IV bags and she and another gingerly attached the wire to Pupa’s leg. A nurse brought over a tin cup, holding it awkwardly like she did not know what to do with it. Kemushi took it from her and gently set it down on the bed in front of the beak of Philomena, who had tucked herself snugly between the filly’s free leg and the soft blanket, rather like Pupa’s plush ladybug.

“Now, what are we to do?” asked the same stallion doctor impatiently.

“We wait,” Mirror Match replied coolly. “She’ll do all the work.”

So that is what they did: a circle was formed around the Princess’ bed so to give Philomena sufficient space, nopony or changeling stepping beyond the invisible line. Some of the medical staff and guards from both kingdoms left the room.

After five minutes of nothing happening, Kemushi leaned over the unicorn, hissing irritably in his ear, “Well? How long is this supposed to take?”

“Longer than five minutes.”

“Why are we whispering?” Slick Wing chipped in.

“Shut up, Slick.”

Drip

All eyes fell on the bed. A large bead of water rolled down Philomena’s smooth, golden beak until it reached the tip, finally breaking off into the tin cup with a resounding drip. More beads followed from her glistening yellow eyes, gradually turning into two flowing streams of hot tears.

For all her centuries of wisdom, Celestia knew she was not infallible, despite what so many of her little ponies thought of her. She had made more mistakes in her lifetime than she liked to admit: Nightmare Moon, the royal wedding and the Changeling Invasion to name only a few.

Yesterday, her decision to confront the Changeling Queen in the latter’s fragile state of mind was already poorly thought out; Chrysalis was usually only one to talk when it was a chance to gloat over her enemies, so a trading of blows was not unexpected. Her barging in on her extremely private mother-daughter moment was just a matter of bad timing that made things worse.

A narrow beam of pale morning light forced its way through the crack of the shut windows. Celestia’s sensitive ears listened intently to the pitter-patter of the rain (she noticed that rainfall was rather common in this country) from her comfy spot on top Chrysalis’ soft bed in the latter’s chamber. She had been here since it was still dark, cutting her sleep short to keep an eye on her, despite the doctors’ insistences that both monarchs should remain separate while they recuperated.

Chrysalis was lying on the bed with her, snuggled up against her side, slumbering quietly. When the medics came to bring her back to the palace, they wrapped her entire midsection and legs in bandages and pumped her with enough drugs to take down an elephant. Celestia had punched her in the muzzle so hard they even had to fix some of her teeth. Her face expressed content as she slept, save for her exceptionally loud, drawn-out snoring. Both her frayed nerves and exhausted and seriously unfit body needed this rest so much.

Celestia herself was left mostly unscathed from yesterday’s fight; she sported only bruises on her chest and a black eye, with a few bandages to be safe. Her alicorn body was far stronger than Chrysalis’ and she had taken much worse punishment in past battles.

Noticing the blanket was slipping off the Queen’s round flank, Celestia grabbed one end with her teeth and pulled it up to Chrysalis’ neck. The grey mare mumbled into the embroidery, likely in the midst of a dream. Celestia grinned; she knew right then and there she was looking upon a vulnerable, tender creature and not a heartless tyrant.

At that moment, the Queen stirred and her leg brushed the alicorn’s plush white coat. She was waking up. Celestia held her breath, watching the heavy black bags of her eyelids slowly open and her buggy eyes peering into space. Eyeballs swivelling left and right in their sockets, she took in her surroundings without moving her head. They fell dully on the alicorn Princess and she forced her head up, drawing a loud, unsophisticated yawn.

“Good morning, Your Majesty.”

Chrysalis lowered her trembling upper body back onto the bed, surprisingly regarding the Princess’ presence with only mild irritation. She croaked, “... Where am I?”

“You’re back in your chamber,” Celestia told her pacifyingly, doing her best to keep the mare relaxed.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Only since yesterday.” She gave a reassuring smile, looking her over and running her hoof over her crooked back. “By the looks of it, you were in desperate need of a long night’s rest.”

Chrysalis began looking around the room, her vision still fuzzy and she frowned. This was most definitely her royal chamber, but something seemed off. Something in the room had changed, but she could not put her hoof on it.

She sniffed the air about and she picked it up: freshness, with a strong hint of detergent.

“You’ve cleaned it,” she deduced.

“Your maids did, actually, and they really had to, Chrysalis,” Celestia curled her lips, remembering the stench that had her retching when she first stepped into the room yesterday. “The aroma was becoming unbearable.”

Feeling a sharp pain running up her sinuses, she tapped it gently with her hoof tip and winced. “You broke my muzzle...”

“Well, you didn’t leave me much of an option,” Celestia retorted, motioning to her bruises and black eye. Horn glowing, she lifted a silver tray up from next to the bed and placed it front of her changeling counterpart. “I brought you breakfast. It’s still hot.”

The changeling eyed the steamed rice and miso soup disinterestedly and turned her muzzle up at the dish.

“I don’t want anything, thank you.”

Celestia nudged her on the shoulder encouragingly. “Come on, it’s your favourite.”

She scoffed, “You don’t know my favourite.”

“It’s miso.”

There was no arguing with that: Chrysalis loved a hot, calming bowl of miso. But right now, she was in no mood, no matter how alluring the wafting, mouth-watering aroma. She glared venomously at Celestia, trying to push herself up against the mattress.

“Well, with all due respect, Princess, you can take your soup and stick it... stick it...” Chrysalis staggered, falling back on the bed with an ‘oomph’, her legs splaying out like a smoked turkey. Her legs were jelly, as was the rest of her body from her neck down. “W-what have you done to me?!”

“You were injected with an extract of muscle relaxation potion in your sleep, the kind often used for physical therapy. You won’t have the strength to get up or use your magic for a while.” Celestia’s expression and tone toughened and her demeanour was coming close to threatening. “Until then, you are going to lie there and eat your breakfast, and what’s more, you are going to shut up, is that understood?”

Chrysalis knew she could do nothing to defy her; her horn was completely numb. She tried gathering a surge of magical energy in the spire, but felt nothing. Besides, her stomach was rumbling something fierce; she did not remember the last time she ate.

“Fine.” She muttered, looking down at the bowls of food on one side and the chopsticks and spoon on the other. “I can’t exactly...”

The spoon lifted, dipped into the miso and raised itself to her lips. She rolled her eyes at the nonchalant alicorn, whose white horn was lit up.

“I will not be spoon-fed like a grub...” Chrysalis paused for a second, before she groaned, slumping her shoulders in defeat. “Oh, just feed me the damn soup.”

For the next few minutes, Celestia silently fed Chrysalis her breakfast, starting with the soup, next the rice, then the grilled mackerel. The Changeling Queen did not think it was possible to feel both comfortable and threatened at the same time. Her sleep had rejuvenated her and the countless drugs they pumped her with were dealing with the pain, but now she was completely at her worst enemy’s mercy. She was just waiting for Celestia to suddenly grab her by the neck and snap it like a twig.

Celestia, meanwhile, was finding the situation quite amusing. The absurd image of the Princess of Equestria feeding clumps of rice into the Queen of the Changeling Kingdom’s mouth was any young, ambitious photographer’s dream. At least Chrysalis was acting compliantly.

“I appreciate your people’s dishes,” she smiled, scraping the rest of the sticky rice in the bowl into one last lump with the chopsticks. “It’s a shame they’re not as popular back home. I’ve always found food to be an effective method of bringing cultures together.”

The Queen did not respond and took the last mouthful, grains falling messily over her muzzle.

“Now,” Celestia set the bowl down and tilted her head at a concerned angle, trying to meet her gaze. “With that out of the way, how are you feeling, Chrysalis?”

“Useless from the neck down,” came her deadpan response. “Other than that, refreshed and kinda full. I want my tea.”

The white porcelain pot poured its steamy contents into a tiny matching cup, which lifted to Chrysalis’ lips.

“You were acting completely out of control,” Celestia reasoned with her nemesis while the latter was busy drinking. “We feared you’d lash out again once you woke up.”

“You’re right; if I could, I’d smash that tea pot over your head,” Chrysalis said plainly, her voice resonating in her cup. She sucked down the rest of her tea, not appreciating the flavour, and pushed the cup away. “Why have you come here, Celestia?”

It was a fair question and probably the most rational sentence to come out of her Queen’s mouth since their reunion, something she, by all accounts, should have asked the Princess yesterday instead of attacking like a madmare, even though she would not admit it to her or herself.

“You’re not here to fight me, I can see that now. If you really wanted to kill me, you would have done it in my sleep. I’m paralysed; you could do it right now. So let’s drop all this small talk and you tell me what is that you want.”

For one fleeting moment, Celestia did not respond. Her alluring magenta eyes drifted away from hers, looking up at the ceiling distantly. She was carefully thinking over what to say. When the words came, she faced her again, her expression one of empathy.

“I have come here to help, Chrysalis, if not for you, then at the very least for your filly and perhaps even your country. Your scepticism is justified, and I was wrong in how I handled myself yesterday, and I am sorry.”

Chrysalis blinked, staring at her incredulously. Did Celestia, of all living ponies, just apologize to her? Since when did Celestia apologize for anything?

“While you were out and I was being treated in the palace, I had… interesting conversations with members of your family. I talked to your uncle again, and then I had the privilege of meeting your sister.”

Chrysalis let her imagination wonder about this meeting between Celestia and her little sister. Given her sister’s penchant for anything to do with foreign high-class culture, she easily pictured in her head Danauria doing her best to suck up to the alicorn Princess, and at the same time, also imagined her trying to put on a defiant but crumbling front against such a powerful world leader.

She chuckled mirthlessly, “She’s a charming mare, I know.”

“I found out some things, Chrysalis.” Celestia now appeared uncomfortable with what she had to say next. “I was not aware your daughter was...”

Her face contorted into a scowl, the tone in her voice harshening. “She’s what, Celestia? Retarded?”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

She flicked her mane and snorted dismissively, “It’s what you meant to say.”

“No, I didn’t. I was aware she was disabled, but not like what your family has described to me.” The Princess’ legs shifted; she could now see the creeping shame written once more over the Queen’s face through the bitterness. “I’m... I’m sorry for what has happened to her, Chrysalis, I really am.”

It was as if her words had reignited the recently extinguished fury in the dark mare’s heart. Her fangs gritted and she violently jerked her head at her, her muzzle bopping against hers.

“Stop apologizing to me!” Chrysalis yelled. “I do not want your sorries, and even if I did, do you truly believe I deserve them?!”

“I...”

“You say you’ve talked to my family. Well, did they tell you what I did to Pupa, Celestia? Do you know?!”

That last question hung ominously in the air. Celestia was taken aback by what she saw next; angry tears streamed from Chrysalis’ bloodshot eyes in rivulets. The question, or rather how she asked it, conjured any horrific image of the mother and filly she could put together.

She did not know the best way to answer, other than hanging her head and saying simply, “Yes.”

“Then what are you waiting for?!” The changeling demanded as she, in spite of both the magical restraints and the torment her body had experienced, found the strength to steady herself on her forelegs. She took a shuddering breath and shut her lids with more tears spilling out the corners, shaking her head in self-loathing. “You should be spitting on me and cursing my name!” Celestia could hear hysteria rising in her voice. Chrysalis grabbed her by the golden collar, looking desperately in her eyes, her chitinous chest beating up and down vigorously like a pounding drum. “So hit me. Beat me up! I want you to; I deserve it!”

“Chrysalis, get a hold of yourself,” she ordered in a near whisper, removing Chrysalis’ grasp from her collar and holding her down by the shoulders with gentle hooves. “Listen, me beating you senseless will fix nothing. I don’t want to. Why can’t you understand? I don’t want to hurt you!”

“You should!” Chrysalis spat, rubbing her puffy eyes to dry her tears but only made herself look more of a mess. “I don’t deserve anything better, especially not from you!”

There was not much Celestia could think to say to counter that. Chrysalis was not just her enemy, but an enemy to her entire nation. Following Discord’s reformation (if she could truly call his rocky process complete), the Changeling Queen and her kingdom were amongst the few open threats left to Equestria, however inactive and bound by red tape both sides were. Chrysalis had harmed her personally by her abduction and replacement of her beloved niece, Princess Cadance, and the attempt to manipulate her and Shining Armor’s own wedding as a means of invading Canterlot and all of Equestria.

Others had killed in the hundreds of thousands for less.

“How many of your precious little ponies would blame you?”

None, at least, none Celestia could name off the top of her head. A leader’s role was to act in the long-term interests of her subjects, however, sometimes not what her subjects believed they thought was in their best interests.

“Chrysalis,” she finally began after what must have been a solid minute. “Those years ago, if I wanted to, I could have ordered a counter-offensive and launched an invasion by air, land and sea against your homeland.” As she continued to speak, Chrysalis felt her jelly legs tremble with pain and her neck craned down in shame. “It would have been really easy, too. I could have firebombed your cities with a single word, and I would have had universal support. But I did no such thing.”

“Why?”

“Because with all due respect, Your Majesty, I have never seen war as my first option to solving all international conflicts.” The gaze in Celestia’s eyes became wistful as picked her lengthy memory with reluctance. “I have taken part in more wars than I can remember and having witnessed their increasingly destructive nature....” She paused contemplatively before adding, “Let’s just say, I try to avoid it however much I can. War is nothing heroic.”

“Oh, don’t talk to me about war,” the Queen hissed, mostly out of the pain in her legs and not just the immediate memories of those drawn-out, tedious meetings. Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. “I never thought I’d grow up sick and tired of war.”

She went on unheeded, “I’ve always believed in the possibility of restoring peace between our kingdoms to how they used to be years ago.” She attempted to put a comforting leg over her hump. “I know it may surprise you, but I am not the tyrant so many of my own little ponies fear me to be, and you are not the monster so many believe you are.”

Flinching from the cold touch of her golden slipper, Chrysalis brushed her off. “Now you’re just patronizing me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then you’ve had your head rammed up your rump this whole time!” Chrysalis yelled, spit firing out her mouth. She now appeared grossly offended by the Princess’ placid attitude. “I can't believe how disconnected you are! I kidnapped your niece, tried to take over your kingdom, imprisoned you in a cocoon, and now—I’ve killed my own child! How can you call me anything less than a heartless, unfeeling monster?!”

“If you were such a heartless monster, why else were you there at the hospital yesterday?” Celestia countered, wiping Chrysalis' spittle from her cheeks. “And for that matter, why did you even have Pupa rushed there in the first place and donated your own blood? Why did you lock yourself in this chamber for days? Chrysalis, look at yourself...” Her hoof caressed the dark mare’s cheek just under her sore eyes; tears leaked down onto her slipper. “You’ve been crying your eyes out. What kind of monster possesses any hint of regret?”

“And you think that makes everything alright?!” she asked dumbstruck. “Y-You think simply because I feel horrible about it erases what I did. What I did to Pupa was—evil!”

Her hole-ridden legs feeling like they were now aflame and her face glistening with sweat, Chrysalis’ body slowly collapsing to the mattress. She stopped to take a set of deep breaths and Celestia waited patiently for her to pull herself together before she was able to continue.

“S-She didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I was just so stressed and worked up, and when I found her in my room and the mess she’d made, I...” A slight choke formed in her throat and fresh tears sprung. “Celestia, I got so angry.”

Chrysalis no longer bothered trying to stop herself from crying. Celestia listened with sympathy, but also impending dread. She brushed her hoof across her cheek.

“You don’t need to tell me everything that happened.”

“Yes, I do!” Chrysalis whimpered, pushing her comforting hoof away. “I... I slapped her, I screamed in her face! I said the most awful things to her. I told her she wasn’t my daughter, and that... that she was nothing but an embarrassment to me!” Her breath was caught in her tightened chest, but she spoke regardless, “And then—and then I started hitting her! I hit her and hit her and hit her! S-She was so tiny and weak and I just wouldn’t stop!”

Celestia’s jaw hung agape with shock. The image of a full-grown mare saying such hurtful things to her own filly was horrifying enough, but to picture a mare beating her filly senseless like some ragdoll rendered her speechless. Nothing what the royal family told her could have prepared her.

The Queen squeezed her eyes shut, sucked in one last breath and shouted as loud her overworked lungs would allow her, “I’ve killed her, Celestia! Sh-she l-loved me, and I beat my own child to death!”

Unable to bear the overwhelming guilt and her own weight, Chrysalis broke down and flopped against the bouncing spring mattress, throwing her hooves over her head and sobbing uncontrollably in despair.

Celestia had never seen the Changeling Queen cry like this. At first, she had no idea what to do, what to say. What could she say to console her? It was not like she could tell her she was not to blame here. After hearing it all from the mare’s mouth, what mare would not feel such feelings of shame and self-loathing?

After some time of nothing but Chrysalis’ sobs bouncing off the chamber walls, Celestia leaned forward and put her strong legs around her trembling form.

“Oh Chrysalis,” she spoke gently, pulling her into a compassionate hug. “Come to me.”

Chrysalis tried to resist her, shuddering at making any contact. “No!”

Celestia would no longer have any of it and firmly pulled her into her side. “I said “come to me”!”

The two matriarchs now pressed together in a warm embrace, Chrysalis looked Celestia right in her magenta eyes with her own watery harlequin gaze, her bottom lip quivering as she tried to say something. Her ears were laid back flat and half her mane hung over her face. It was pitiful, in the truest meaning of the word.

Then she started bawling cathartically again, collapsing into her plush white chest and limply returning the hug. They stayed there for some time, rocking back and forth on the bed and the alicorn doing whatever possible to provide her consolation, like rubbing her back in a circular motion and lightly nuzzling her neck

Chrysalis did not openly admit it as she buried her muzzle into the alicorn’s large neck, but she liked this very much. There was something so soothing being hugged by her old enemy; her immaculate coat was so clean and soft and gave off just the right amount of warmth to make her feel safe, like a mother should her filly.

When Chrysalis’ crying died down into a stream of whimpers and hiccups, Celestia asked in a whisper, believing the worst had passed, “Are you feeling better?”

“No—hic!—I’m not,” she said under heavy sobs. “I’ve been a terrible mother. I shouldn’t—hic!—be allowed to even have children!”

“You’ve made mistakes.”

“Quit trying to justify my actions!” Chrysalis yelled, loosening their hug so they would make eye contact again. “I’ve never been there for her, don’t you understand? Never! I c-can’t even remember a single time I told Pupa I loved her! Cerci had more right to call herself Pupa’s mother than I ever will.” She rested her forehead under her chin, carefully making sure to point her gigantic horn out of harm’s way. She mumbled bitterly, “Now it’s too late; I’ll n-never be able to tell my filly how sorry I am.”

“Chrysalis, your daughter is still alive.”

“For how much longer? My daughter was so tiny, Celestia, so weak, and I stomped her! We’re only prolonging her suffering.”

Helping her sit up on her haunches, Celestia did the same and put her hooves on her shoulders. She said, “You’re wrong. We can save her. I’ve brought Philomena with me.”

Chrysalis blinked a couple of times. “Your brought what?”

“Philomena is my pet phoenix.”

It took quite a bit of thinking, but Chrysalis recalled one of her private lessons in fillyhood when her tutor taught her about legendary and powerful beasts. Phoenixes, the long-lived fire birds that are reborn from their own ashes, were amongst the rarest of the breeds.

“S-So?” she stuttered, clearly not seeing any possible relevance it had. “You own a pretty red firebird as your pet, what does that have to do with—?” Celestia put her hoof firmly over her mouth before she finished prattling.

The Sun Princess sighed exasperatedly and elaborated, “And as a phoenix, she possesses many abilities; her very tears have healing powers.”

Chrysalis pulled her muzzle out of the way and asked, her voice still muffled, “What are you talking about?”

“Philomena is with Pupa right now and the doctors are injecting her tears into her bloodstream as we speak.”

Chrysalis did not respond; she only managed to stare back at her, her expression completely blank, while the gears in her head busied themselves processing what she had just heard and how exactly to respond. In the meantime, she brushed the dried tears from her puffy eyes.

“A-And what? I’m supposed to believe your pet’s tears are going to fix everything?” she scoffed, regaining some of her queenly composure, at least for the moment.

“They will be able to cure her immediate injuries. Phoenix tears are strong magic, Chrysalis; they are known to revive those on the verge of death.”

Not knowing how to respond, the Queen bit down on her lip and her eyes darted left and right. She was trying to poke whatever holes she could find in Celestia’s logic, but she was struggling. Her own knowledge of phoenixes was hardly basic and what reason had she to assume she was wrong? Celestia could simply be lying, but after all that happened in the last half hour between them, Chrysalis found herself unable to see that as a possibility. What would be the point?

“How many times have you used them?” she asked, her voice dripping with suspicion.

“Few and far between. It’s like I told you, they are powerful, and thus ripe for abuse, so I only use Philomena’s power if absolutely necessary and try my best to keep it hidden,” Celestia explained, but still saw she was not entirely convinced. “I first used them over a thousand years ago, when my sister—when she was a filly—fell seriously ill. She had contracted a disease for which there was no known cure at the time.” A wince passed over her features; she still envisioned her little sister bedridden, deathly pale and struggling to breath. “I thought all hope was lost when in my research, I discovered the properties of phoenix tears and their powers. I was then able to cure Luna at a point when others told me to give up.”

“Pupa isn’t sick, she’s broken!” Chrysalis cried, becoming worked up again. “The hospital told me I may have given her brain damage! You’re so certain your phoenix tears can fix that?”

“I...”

“And what if it doesn’t even work on changelings? It’s not like you’ve ever had the chance to test on any of us, so how can you possibly know?!”

Celestia opened her mouth to speak, when she fully registered the words. She shut her eyes meditatively. No matter how much she insisted to her Pupa would be alright or how many phoenix tears they injected the filly with, there were no promises she could make. The situation was different than it was a thousand years ago and Chrysalis’ objections had some foundation: if the tears had never been used on changelings before, how were they to know if they really were compatible? And even if they were, there was a big difference between a virus and permanent cranial damage. While for Celestia herself it seemed an unlikelihood, the seeds of doubt were already sewn in the Queen’s mind.

She at last answered, heaving a sigh, “I don’t.”

“Oh!” Chrysalis forced herself to laugh, if just to prove the ridiculousness of the situation and deride the white mare. “So the perfect pretty pony Princess of the Sun doesn’t know the answer to every single little problem!” She pounded her hoof against the mattress in frustration, but her misery was far more palpable. “My baby is either going to survive brain-dead or she’ll die thinking her own mother hates her! It’s not fair!”

Celestia was not finished. She took her nemesis by the chin and lifted her head up, looking at her with a motherly tenderness.

“You’re right, Chrysalis, I don’t know the answer to everything, and as much as I want to tell you Pupa will survive this, nopony can ever know for certain what will happen. But what I do know is that Philomena’s tears once saved an alicorn filly and if that isn’t something remarkable, I don’t know what is.” She smiled and bopped the tips of their muzzles playfully together. “And I’ll tell you this: it’s never too late to apologize. Take that from somepony who knows.”

“But... she’ll never forgive me,” she snuffled.

“Sometimes, forgiveness is something that must be earned. I won’t lie, you did something, something terrible... but when I saw you at your daughter’s bedside, and the look on your face, I saw how genuinely sorry you are for what you’ve done. It’s up to her when she’ll forgive you, but a lot of fillies aren’t as spiteful as some think.”

Without either mare thinking, they enveloped each other and another hug was formed. Chrysalis let all her emotions out on her shoulder, but all she could now was shiver and whimper quietly.

“I... I just love her so much.”

“I know you do,” Celestia whispered, tears of her own swelling up, “and if Pupa doesn’t know it now, she will when this is all over.”

All five cups were filled to the rim and the nurse carefully phased the faintly sparkling liquid into the IV bag. The phoenix's tears ran slowly down the drip chamber and the wire and passed through the pierced skin into Pupa’s bloodstream.

The procedure was finished by yesterday night. All the pony guards had left, except for the Captains, Mirror Match and Beetle. Dr Kemushi was the only doctor remaining. She sat on a chair by the heart monitor, keeled over from exhaustion; her mane and uniform were sweat-soaked messes and her face was now a sickly pale. They were all so tired. How long had it been since any of them had a wink of sleep? When this was all over, no matter what the outcome, there was only one thing on all their minds.

Philomena remained curled up comfortably under Pupa’s leg, peacefully fast asleep. The fire bird was having a nice time snuggled there with the Princess and perching her beak on her warm potbelly.

“We’ve been here all night,” Kemushi stated, not with irritation but as simple fact.

“We’re aware of the time.” Mirror Match was so zapped out energy he needed to prop himself against his spear to keep him from dropping to the floor.

Kemushi little faith in the ponies and their supposed miracle medicine was wearing seriously thin. There had not been a single sign of improvement since the last drop entered Pupa’s bloodstream; the monitor continued its monotonous drone uninterrupted and Pupa lay stiff as a board and a look of peace on her face. Sooner or later, they would have to accept facts and call it off.

A pained whinny caught attention of both ponies and changeling in the room and startling Philomena awake.

Pupa’s eyebrow and upper lip were trembling violently and her eyes appeared to be trying to force themselves open, while the rest of her chunky face scrunched up. Her little, bandaged legs started shifting up and down her belly, like they were searching for something. A second disjointed whinny worked its way to her little mouth, progressively swelling up into a loud sob.

Kemushi flew up with such speed it knocked her chair over. Her jaw dropped so far it may as well have dropped clean off. She was at the Princess’ bedside in an instant, the pony guards idly wondering if the changeling had spontaneously learned how to teleport.

“Oh my gods, she’s waking up!”

Pupa’s sobbing finally turned into full-blown wailing, rocking her bruised body from side to side like a new hatched grub and reaching her legs out for something, or somechangling. The sound of her crying in that squealing, broken voice was heart breaking. Her eyes, opened to the size of slits, were redder than they were green.

“I want staff in here now! Tell them to bring more drugs, she’s in pain!”

As both guards galloped out the room, unnoticed by all, Philomena had flown off the bed and landed herself on a brass bed knob. She stood perched in silence and watched as Kemushi looked like she was either trying to restrain or comfort the Princess, who would just not stop screaming hysterically.

Author's Note

(A/N) Hey, everybody, sorry for the delay; it's partly due to that I've just recently got my first job. I'm glad to have uploaded this chapter before years end. Now I can get to work on working on and uploading the next chapter (again, hopefully before years end) of Citizen Weevil.

This meeting (the first part featured in this chapter) between Chrysalis and Celestia is one that I've had planned since the early beginning of writing this story. I'm glad to see I've reached this far with this story, as well as a point where Chrysalis isn't basically just laying about moping and crying. Yeah yeah, I know that's not All the last few chapters have been about, but now we've reached the point where Chrysalis is in the process of getting back onto her hooves here with Celestia's help.

I hope you've enjoyed this chapter and keep an eye out for the upcoming chapter of Citizen Weevil.

Chapter Twelve

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Twelve

“I’m abdicating.”

Maybe it was the breaking of the silence or just how unexpected those two words were, maybe both, but Celestia stared at her with utter bafflement.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Technically, I already have.”

“How? Simply by giving your sister your crown?” Celestia clucked her tongue and eyed the changeling’s head quizzingly. “Hmm, you really do look odd without it.”

Chrysalis tossed over on the bed, away from her and flipped her pillow to the cool side. It was still dark in the room, save for the morning light streaming narrowly into the room as before. Celestia had recently re-joined Chrysalis after performing her daily duty of raising the sun, one that did not change wherever she was in the world. The Changeling Queen did not bother getting up to watch her perform this feat, having seen the sun rise herself countless times and, frankly, even was confused why ponies found it so awe-inspiring.

Now the Sun Princess lay snuggled up behind Chrysalis, pressing her head against the back of hers. Both matriarchs were exhausted, and, at this moment, curling up and slummocking together in bed was the most calming thing they could think of as they waited endlessly for news of Pupa’s progress. They did not know when that knock on the door would come or what the news would be, but all they could do now was wait patiently and try to pass the time.

“I’m still going to do it,” she mumbled into the pillow. “It is my right.”

“And what do you intend to solve by doing this?” asked Celestia tiresomely, squirming about to get comfortable. “With your country in trouble, and your only child in critical condition in the hospital, exactly how do you think abdication will make anything better?”

“Hey, Echo couldn’t possibly do as bad a job as me.”

She nudged her on the back and reprimanded her, “Chrysalis, stop talking this nonsense. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“No, Celestia,” Chrysalis hissed as she curled flinchingly into a fetal position and stared steely into space. “For the first time in my life, I am thinking clearly.” Celestia picked up a quiver in her voice. “My family has spent centuries building this land up from a civil war, and what a surprise, I’ve singlehoofedly managed to ruin everything, not just for me, but for my daughter and all my little changelings. What’s happened with Pupa has finally opened my eyes to what an unworthy, incompetent fool I truly am!”

“Oh, that’s not melodramatic in the slightest, is it?”

A surge of anger coursed through her overworked veins and she sat halfway up. “Funny you can lay there and say that with your perfect kingdom and all your loyal little not starving subjects not abandoning you.” Her dim eyes glanced over to glare at the shut windows, or rather, what was beyond them. “Just open your eyes and look around the streets of my city, Celestia: poverty, disease and famine are everywhere. That is the legacy I’m leaving to Pupa: a disaster! ”

“I get it, Chrysalis; I have read the records.”

“And it’ll only get worse unless something is done, and if that means I must step down and allow somechangeling else to do my job and do it better, I will,” she said conclusively, putting her hoof over her chest. “Don’t make the mistake in assuming I don’t care for my people, because I do...” Her voice petered out, adding the next part with great shame, staring at her hooves as if they were still blood-splattered, “I do. I go to every cabinet meeting, undertake every budget, spend endless nights without sleep or food, but it’s never enough.”

“I never thought you didn’t,” Celestia affirmed to her as she got off the maddeningly uncomfortable bed to stretch her slender legs. “I think you’re onto something: there needs to be change, but of a different kind than simply a different queen sitting on the throne.” She made a short jog over to Chrysalis’ desk and searched the drawers. “Your kingdom is a deprived land, Chrysalis, and your people are suffering immensely—” Celestia levitated a long white stick and held it up to her view. “May I?”

Chrysalis’s eyebrow twitched. “You smoke?”

“You’d be surprised.” Magically lighting the cigarette, she took a smooth drag and blew a perfect circle. “Anyway, if you’re genuinely interested in bringing forth a change, and especially for Pupa’s future benefit, then has political reform never crossed your mind? It does seem more the rational course.”

Hearing the word ‘reform’ and the many connotations that came with it was nearly enough to trigger a headache for Chrysalis, whose reaction was to cover her cringing face with her leg.

“And how would I do that?” she groaned.

For a moment or two, Celestia wondered whether the Queen was playing stupid or simply was joking. When nothing followed, the Princess blinked and stared at her like a second head sprung out of her neck.

“Um... Chrysalis? You are the Queen,” she said slowly, sounding almost like she was speaking to a slow filly. “If bringing about change is something you’re truly concerned about, the only thing I think you need is the will.”

The response she received was a disrespectful snort as Chrysalis pulled the blankets from under herself and brought them up to her chin; her own little way of telling Celestia what she thought of her opinions.

Celestia frowned as she blew a set of circles and said, “Listen, I know you normally don’t care about what I have to say, but you have nothing to lose from just hearing me out for a moment.”

“This coming from the all-powerful goddess of Equestria who sends her ponies to the moon on a whim?” she snickered, while brushing her curtain of mane from her face. “That’s logic.”

“What?”

“You heard me; don’t think you’re in any position to lecture me—”

“Stop. Now.”

It was not what Celestia said, but the dark, ominous manner in which she said it, coupled with the iciness of her magenta gaze, that slapped the smirk off the changeling’s muzzle and forced her to hold her forked tongue.

“I want to set a few things straight to you,” Celestia approached the bedpost, her hooffalls making harsh thuds against the floor. Her whole form appeared to grow taller the more she spoke. “When my sister became Nightmare Moon, I sealed her in the moon using the Elements of Harmony not on a whim, but because I had to.”

“Alright—”

Chrysalis almost gulped when the Sun Princess’s face became uncomfortably close to hers. It dawned on her too late that she must have unwittingly touched upon a sacred nerve for the Alicorn.

“It was an isolated incident that happened once over a thousand years ago!” Celestia continued to chastise her. “And for that matter, the Elements are gone now, so even if I wanted to send a certain somepony to the moon, I couldn’t!”

“You’ve made your point.” She held her holed hoof over her head in precaution. “I’m sorry, alright?”

Silently accepting her apology through her softening expression, Celestia backed away and returned to the cigarette she had left handing in mid-air and placed it between her lips again. A part of her felt somewhat guilty for getting confrontational like that, considering all the Queen had been through lately, but there were some lines that were not meant to be crossed.

“As for your ‘all-powerful’ claim, that’s where you’re way off course,” Celestia turned her back to the changeling and took another smoke. “You’ve clearly forgotten that I am a diarch, and as such I share power with my sister. What’s more, over the centuries, I’ve been gradually introducing my own reforms which are proving—”

“Oh, well, how good for you!” Chrysalis cut her off with a snarl, holding her crossed hooves over her chest dramatically. “Now if only I had a supportive sister by side to take up my work so I could actually get eight hours of sleep!” She slammed her head against her pillow in frustration, dragging her hooves down her face so hard it looked like she was going to tear the skin off. “Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t do all those things you can! So stop lecturing me!”

“I’m not trying to lecture you!” Celestia snapped, her lingering ire rising again as she rubbed her temple in a circular nation. Pausing until he cooled off a tad, she continued, more sombrely, “But Chrysalis, you’re not ignorant. You’re actually very intelligent and I think if you really wanted to, could have modernized your kingdom years ago and as a result, placed Pupa in a much better position when she assumes the throne.”

“From you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” she murmured, gently rubbing her now sore face. “But you still fail to understand.”

“If I don’t, fair enough, but then why not help me to understand? Explain it to me.”

The dark mare did not respond for a long time. She scrunched her muzzle, thinking deeply about what she was going to say. After the long chat they had had about her and Pupa, was there anything to lose from moving onto the next minefield.

“... As Queen of my species and my nation, I am tasked with upholding the ways of my forefathers,” Chrysalis unenthusiastically stated as if she were rehearsing a phrase repeatedly drummed into to her in fillyhood.

“Like channelling all your resources into a military you’ve just got standing around doing nothing?”

“It’s not simple,” she growled, becoming irate by the old problem being brought up again and having to defend herself again. “I’m bound by centuries-old Changeling traditions and practices. I can’t just do whatever I want; I have to act in according to what is expected of me!”

“Am I really hearing this from the same mare who tried taking down a world power and, to be fair here, very nearly succeeded?” Celestia asked, getting frustrated. Having talked to such a vulnerable, humbled Chrysalis this long was now leaving her dumbfounded. “Since when did you become fixated... o-oh.” Her eyes flickered open wide, a sudden realization dawning over her, like something went and clicked in her head. “Oh.”

She looked up at her. “‘Oh’, what?”

The Princess approached the bedside, and took a spot on the mattress near her but maintaining a comfortable distance.

“Is this why you’ve become so withdrawn?” she asked, trying to be empathetic towards her. “Because of what happened at Canterlot?”

A sick feeling ran up and down Chrysalis’ entire being. This was one memory she really did not want to mull over at this time, especially not with Celestia. She had long thought about the choice words to sum up her feelings about it, but she had not the energy.

She spoke the words as they came. “Canterlot’s fall was going to be my legacy,” she explained lamentingly, but with a kind of pride long-lost. “I would have become a Changeling Empress, Celestia; the supreme ruler of a new changeling-led world order!” Her shoulders slumped and she crawled like a dirty half-squished vermin to the comfort of her pillow. “And now... n-now... I’m nothing. Nothing but the Queen of a third-rate power no creature cares about.”

Celestia felt a wrench of sympathy for her old nemesis, even if the sympathy was most arguably not deserved.

“I don’t think I’ve ever considered how much it’s affected you,” she admitted regretfully.

“That doesn’t shock me.”

The Alicorn cocked an eyebrow. “I suppose I apologize for stopping you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chrysalis rebuked. “You were protecting your subjects. Well, no, your student, her friends and your ‘niece’ protecting them for you. They’re the ones I underestimated. Ultimately, it was my lack of foresight and overconfidence that led to my downfall, so how can I blame you? Still, you going down so easily like that... that was disappointing.”

A small pulse was visible in her long neck. “I’m sorry for letting you down like that,” she replied hollowly, her voice still reflecting the shame she felt for her failure to defend her kingdom that fateful day. “Chrysalis, why did you attack Equestria?”

“I told you, it was to be my legacy.”

“But why choose Equestria? Your generals have had their eyes on Manechuria for longer than I can count. Trying to take down the world’s leading superpower is an exceptionally bold move—reckless, but bold, nonetheless.”

“The better question is why not,” countered Chrysalis, who was seeing something the Princess clearly was not. “Not only would my kingdom effectively rule the world, but my changelings would have been provided with enough love that famine would be completely wiped out; you know this. You don’t believe your many foreign counterparts have never thought about it at least once, do you?”

In Equestria’s rich history, the siege of Canterlot by Chrysalis and her army was by no means the first attempt by a foreign power to take down their peaceful and prosperous society. The Griffin Empire had tried to help themselves to Equestria’s fruits more than once, using their technological superiority. Chrysalis’ campaign was infamous not just because of how close she came to succeeding, but how well she used her species’ abilities to her advantage in lieu of the conventional war methods.

As much as Celestia hated to acknowledge this sad fact, every ambitious nation wanted a piece of her country at some point or another, even ones she now called her closest allies.

“Not even all my father’s achievements together would top it.” A hateful growl emanated from the dark depths of her belly. “Somewhere in the afterlife he’s watching me with disgust.”

“You consider yourself in competition with your father,” Celestia deducted.

Chrysalis ran the tip of her hoof over her plated belly and mused, “Honey, I’m not gonna touch that minefield with a fifty foot poll.”

“Are you sure?” The Princess reached out a comforting hoof. “Talking about it may help you.”

“You seriously want me to talk about my youth?” Chrysalis chuckled hollowly, unceremoniously hauling herself up and putting on a grimacing face. “I’m going to need a drink first.”

“You’ve got too many drugs in your system.” Celestia brought another pair of cigarettes flying from the still open drawer to the bed. “Here.”

Chrysalis took the cigarette, remarking dryly, “Yeah, because this is so much better.”

When she woke up, Princess Pupa was doped up so much until she finally calmed down and stopped crying. Her whole body turned numb and heavy like a sack of rocks. She did not mind, because they took the pain away, which was so intense her little head felt like it was going to burst open.

The hospital staff gave her a lengthy wash, scrubbing her rough and blood-stained coat with the finest imported shampoo and conditioner from the palace. She was still shivering for a lot of the time; she was so unused to being without a kimono or robe, it made her feel naked. They soon gave her a fluffy white robe to wear to keep her warm and cosy.

After they were done cleaning her up and wrapping her in fresh bandages, the staff tucked their princess into a cleaner bed and sat her upright. The nurses then brought a big bowl of chicken and sweetcorn soup to her bedside; all she had been fed since she was admitted was liquidized love through a tube.

“Here you are, Princess,” said one kindly nurse, who blew on a spoonful of soup and held it up to the filly’s mouth.

Pupa’s eyes were rolled upwards at the ceiling and her jaw hung open, dribbling a waterfall onto her bib. She could barely grasp what was going on around her, apart from the very real enticing aroma of chicken, which only made her salivate even more. The nurse gingerly slid the spoon into her mouth and another nurse stood by to shut her mouth and massage her throat so it went down smoothly.

“Good girl,” the nurse flicked a bit of sweetcorn off her lip and got her some more. “Just a couple more.”

The soup was not really the most important thing on the filly’s dazed little mind, however good it was. Pupa was still very much scared. She had no idea who the changelings around her were, even if it was obvious to anychangeling they were kindly. Her grasp was weak and fragile, but images kept flashing by in her head, as did random names she knew meant something to her, and she was slowly beginning to recall why.

Cerci.

Yes, she remembered that name. Cerci. It made her whole feel warm and tingly, and brought back comforting memories of cosy hugs and wet kisses. It was such a soothing feeling, a lot she was being held and cradled in the arms of her mommy...

Mommy. Mother!

The heart-rate monitor went mad. Pupa’s slow breathing turned into rapid panting. The doctors swarmed around her, some pinning her down and one immediately jabbing a syringe into her neck. In moments, the monitor gradually returned to normal, as did a shuddering, sweltering Pupa’s breath patterns.

As the doctors left, the nurses fluttered back to the side of their Princess, some dabbing her mead with a sponge and others stroking her cold hoof caringly. Yet however skilled they were, a broken heart could not be fixed with a syringe or scalpel.

Tears shed from Pupa’s half-closed orbs. She never felt so alone and scared before. She wanted Cerci! Where was Cerci?

Outside the Princess’ room, two silhouettes in the form of changelings were talking right by the doors.

“We’ve had the courier send the news to the palace,” Kemushi was informed by her colleague out in the hospital corridor; it was the same undersized stallion from the previous night, who now appeared he caught up on some of his sleep. “We’ve yet to receive a reply.”

“Perhaps that’s for the better, right now,” she said, smoking a much appreciated cigarette. “The Princess is still in a delicate state. I wouldn’t recommend visitors for the time being.”

With their patient now awake and, Kami willing, further out of the White Changeling of death’s touch, the staff of King Cocoon Memorial was at last allowed to take a well-deserved break. Many of her colleagues were quick to congratulate Kemushi on her handling of the whole situation and by some for ‘saving the Princess’ life’, which was true for all most of them knew, but all she cared about right now was going home and straight to sleep.

“It’s a shame none of this will be made public, doctor,” sighed the shorter stallion with mild disappointment. “You would’ve been famous for sure.”

Kemushi shrugged apathetically, saying, “We were all just doing our job, and we owe a lot of thanks to Princess Celestia and her pet. Besides, I can’t stand the press.”

“And you’re certain she would have died if not for the phoenix?”

Even though she did not answer him directly, the cold, hardened stare she gave him told him all he needed to know. She extinguished her cigarette against her horseshoe and headed nonchalantly down the corridor.

“I’m signing off,” she said before she left, sounding like the stress inflicted by the last three days was at last wearing off. “Excuse me.”

“Aren’t you still on for another two hours?” he asked.

The doctor reached the corner, telling him over her shoulder, “I just saved the Princess, remember? I somehow doubt anychangeling will ever question my integrity now.”

“Where do I begin? I was the first hatched of my clutch—only by three seconds—and I was brought up as any other heir to the throne: I had nannies, tutors, five-star mane groomers, and the cutest little trike you ever saw. It was a pleasant little life... well, except for the time I felt off my trike and broke my leg.”

“Yes, that’s known to leave scars.”

Chrysalis blew two long streams of smoke through her nostrils and glared at her pony counterpart, sneering, “What do you want from me? A teary, sniffling confession of how hard my fillyhood was? Well, it wasn’t, Celestia. I was doted on and given anything I wanted...” she paused, holding her breath before blowing more smoke, continuing, “As long as I behaved, sat still and didn’t say a word unless spoken to. My parents didn’t even hit me, not even once.”

A violent cough rose up through her throat, forcing her to beat her chest as she gasped for air. The air was rife with their second-hoof smoke. Celestia magically unlocked and opened the windows, filling the room with natural light. The Changeling Queen squinched her eyes shut and hissed like a vampire exposed to sunlight, even if it was hardly bright outside.

“Grow up,” groaned Celestia unimpressed.

She lowered herself deeper into her bed and covered half her face with her pillow, taking a few moments to adjust to the light before getting back to her story.

“My mother died when I was five, maybe six.” There was no inclination of sadness in her voice, only plain matter-of-fact. “They said it was a fever... it wasn’t a shock. She was a weak-hearted mare.”

“I’m sorry.”

Chrysalis shrugged indifferently, “I was young, I hardly knew her.” She crossed her legs and propped her head up on her hoof. “But my father always said I look a lot like her.”

“I only met her once,” said Celestia contemplatively. “She was very beautiful.”

“For most of my fillyhood I didn’t see much of my parents; my nannies brought me up, even if none of them truly cared for me.” She finished her sentence with an underlying simmering anger. “Pupa was so lucky to have somechangeling like Cerci. Dear old Daddy didn’t get involved in my life until I was old enough for my true grooming for the throne to begin. He taught me everything I know.”

The Alicorn grinned playfully, “Oh, so that’s where you got that cute little giggle of yours from?”

Her cheeks blushed green with a sudden rush of blood, but she refused to let it get to her. “No.” She re-brushed her gossamer mane and held her head with dignity as reminisced with fondness, “He taught me how to run a government, the secrets of military command, even the more exclusive arts of shape shifting.”

“From the sounds of it, you had good times together.”

“Too bad he was entirely unpleasable.” Her smile dropped, knowing she was getting into painful territory. “When I was twelve, I spent a whole day painting the cherry blossoms blooming in the palace garden. When I finished, Father took one look and told me to do it again until I did it perfectly. Our relationship always worked like that: whatever he asked, I did, but he always found fault.”

That was not a surprise. The pressure to succeed, especially in academics and similar fields, by one’s parents was a staple of changeling society, even amongst the lowest levels of peasantry. Picture yourself in the position of the Crown Princess and the sheer intensity of pressure you were under at such a young age to be nothing short of perfect. How any filly like that did not end growing up into an unhinged, emotional wreck was nothing short of a miracle.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” said Chrysalis as she removed the cigarette, which had nearly burned down to a nub, from her lips and put it out. No matter how many she had, they were not going to help her through this part. “When I was eighteen, I was put in charge of my first division, right in the midst of the Second Griffin-Changeling War. We were reaching a crucial turning point to turn the war in our favour and my father believed it was high time for me to take on some major responsibility.”

“Your father made you a Major General at eighteen-years-old?” Celestia asked amusedly, trying to envision a teenage Chrysalis decorated in military trappings.

“Members of the royal family are expected to hold important military positions, even in our youth. I was so excited! I was tasked with guarding the frontline city of Honeycomb. It’s a beautiful historical city, Celestia. They produce the finest grade honey there—and the best mead.” She licked her lips, her ravenous desire for alcohol burning inside her. “It was like a countryside holiday for the first three months; all the fighting was happening hundreds of miles away.”

“And then you were ambushed by the griffins’ forces,” she added, her historical knowledge sharp and wanting to move the topic on faster.

A tightness constricted the Changeling Queen’s throat and she pushed on with her story, “The griffin army pushed our armies back to Honeycomb. We were caught unprepared, and worse, I was an unexperienced young mare who’d never before commanded troops in battle.”

A single tear came trailing down her stone face and she did not bother to wipe it away.

“It was a disaster, Celestia. I sent wave after wave of changelings at them, but the griffins were relentless. When they pushed us to the very edge of the city, nearly three quarters of my division and half my guards were wiped out and I barely escaped with a huge gash on my flank.”

Her tail reactively curled up over her flank, covering it up as if the wound was fresh. The pain of sharp steel tearing through her soft, young skin still made her wince.

“It would take a whole year until my father’s armies recaptured Honeycomb and by the end of the war, half the city had been razed to the ground. I was humiliated. My father removed me from all military involvement for the remainder of the war. When he brought me to his war room to speak with me in private was the worst part.”

Celestia, having gradually become more engrossed the more she heard this story the changeling must have seldom told anychangeling else, asked quietly, tentatively, “What did he say?”

“He chewed me out for letting the city fall into enemy claws, what else? How I’d brought shame upon the royal family and the reputation of our military and, being fair here, he wasn’t half wrong. He asked me something...”

Out of the blue, Chrysalis’ facial features began to change slightly, as did her voice, becoming more stallion-like as Celestia watched on silently in bewilderment. Her eyes turned a dark, soulless blue and her cerulean mane shortened and darkened greatly in colour.

“Do you have any remote idea as to why I’ve never once hit you?” she spoke literally in her father’s voice, not quite matching the severity of his tone, but coming close enough. “It’s because you’re a worthless spoiled brat who’s not even worth hitting”. Her own voice returned and finished tiredly, “And then he broke my muzzle.”

Celestia felt her heart sink for her rival. Maybe it was how horribly sad her story was or the heartbreakingly genuine way in which she told it. In moments, the Alicorn was lying next to her again just like they were several minutes ago, not physically touching her but close enough to provide her with comfort.

The once mighty Queen shivered, sobbing and groaning tearlessly, “I don’t believe he ever forgave me for that. I’d proven all his investment in me worthless. A-All... all I wanted from him was his love, or at least his respect, but he wouldn’t even give me that.” She summoned the strength to roll her head to look at her. “Was that so much to ask, Celestia?”

“No,” Celestia answered her authoritively and a bit louder than she intended. She coiled her hoof over Chrysalis’ midsection and used the other to stroke her silky locks. “Listen to me, Chrysalis. No filly should be made to feel their parents’ love is something to be earned. Thorax should have been grateful you came home safe and sound. I’m so sorry you were treated that way.”

Her words and her apology provided her with a motherly comfort and love, and, wanting more of it, she flipped over on her other side so they faced each other. Their horns were scraping over each other, they were so close.

“Do you know what the worst part of it is?” she asked her with a sigh. “I’ve actually treated Pupa far worse than he ever did me. I’ve done nothing but neglect her until three days ago when I nearly murdered her. I only wish there was a way to turn back the clock and do everything differently.”

“I know that feel.”

“I’d have stopped working all the damn time and spent more of it with her,” she grumbled, criticizing herself once more. “It’s what I should’ve done from the beginning. Maybe reform doesn’t sound that bad.” She gave her large thigh an insulting slap. “I’d start working out a lot more, too.”

“You’ll have your second chance once Pupa gets better,” Celestia assured her, nuzzling her forehead with her own tenderly. “If it’s any consolation, I think you’ve proved yourself to be the more caring parent.”

“Thank you,” Chrysalis whispered, nuzzling her back. “Look... I know my kingdom has to change, wherever I want it or not. My uncle tells me to shrink my army, something that should have been done years ago, yet I’ve not dared make a move all these years.”

“Maybe because a large part of you still wants to be like your father?” she suggested, but this was followed by an uncertain frown. “Or I’m just getting too comfortably playing therapist.” She then added with care, “Perhaps... you should consider seeing one.”

Chrysalis chuckled at hearing this, not a single shred of humour in her voice, “Oh, that’s just what I need—a shrink.” ‘Why don’t I just have the word ‘MAD’ rubberstamped on my forehead?’

“It’s entirely up to you, and it is merely my suggestion, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of, Chrysalis.”

“Ugh, I’ll think about,” she crossed her legs and pouted begrudgingly.

“And what of you... abdicating?”

Chrysalis found herself caught a tad off guard when her counterpart asked that, and her biting of her lip was a good enough indication of her feelings.

“... I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it, not right now.”

Not knowing what more to say, or rather too tired to really think about it, Chrysalis took a deep yawn and snuggled up close to her Equestrian counterpart, perhaps getting a little too close for comfort for the Alicorn, who accepted her regardless.

“Let’s just rest for a little longer,” she whispered, clearly worn-out and shutting her eyes. “I’m tired, Celestia. All this talk about my personal life and politics has been interesting, but there’s only so much I can talk about, especially with what.”

“... Okay.” There was a lot more Celestia wanted to discuss, and the still real prospect of Chrysalis stepping down did trouble her, but she could certainly appreciate the Queen was understandably not up to it right now. She magically shut the windows, basking the room in darkness again. “If that’s what you want. No more. We’ll simply rest until news from the hospital comes, does that sound good?”

“Yeah.”

So both matriarchs shared a serene catnap together on the spacious queen-sized bed, neither speaking another word. Celestia got comfortable enough she even discarded most of her royal regalia. The only thing that stopped her from falling into a deep sleep was the lingering fear of little Pupa’s fate and how much she prayed for the best outcome.

When one considered the personal history the rulers shared, one finding such comfort in the other was the last thing either would imagine, and both secretly prayed to their gods that nopony and nochangeling outside those walls ever knew about this. That should not be a big concern, though; if there was a thing leaders were good at, it was keeping secrets.

In her head, Celestia figured at most half an hour had passed when a rapid knock on the door rudely snapped both of them awake. Celestia jolted right up on her haunches, while Chrysalis merely yawned again, mumbling angrily at the disturbance.

“I’m not getting it,” the latter half-snored.

“Fine.”

Celestia groaned and sluggishly got out of bed and went to answer the door, which was knocking even louder and ringing Chrysalis’ sensitive ears. The Changeling Queen was too content in her snuggled position and wanted only to stay to her lazy thrall.

Any hope of this was shattered when a familiar pair of hooves grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her frantically.

“Chrysalis!” Celestia cried. “Chrysalis, get up!”

Against her will, she slowly got up, working against gravity and the bulk of her stomach, and asking in a whiney voice that made her sound like a filly, “What now?”

“Sit up for a moment.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

Taking a breath, Celestia looked her in the eye and told her calmly, “Chrysalis... Pupa’s woken up.”

The silence was so intense she could hear the thudding beats of her own heart. She held her tongue, waiting for the changeling to respond.

All Chrysalis did was look down, eyes twitching left and right, ears dropping and her hoof clasping over her mouth. Her whole paling body was shaking like a shrivelled autumn leaf in the breeze. It looked like she was having some difficulty processing what she had just been told.

“She’s... she’s come out of her coma and they’ve put her on medication. She’s going to be okay.” She bent her knees to meet her level, deeply concerned. “... Chrysalis?”

“My baby...” were the only feeble words the dark mare could speak with clarity. “You mean she’s going—”

“—to be okay,” Celestia stressed, putting her hoof under her chin and tilting her head upward. She did her best to smile for her. “Pupa is going to be okay, don’t you see?”

Before she knew what hit her, the holed, cheese-like legs wrapped around her neck tighter than an anaconda. Celestia gasped in surprise. At first she did not know how to react, until she realized she was being hugged and hugged Chrysalis back.

“She’s alright...” Chrysalis buried her face into Celestia’s shoulder, refusing to let her see her tears of relief. “My little hatchling...!”

The widest, warmest of smiles spread over the Alicorn’s lips as she held her. Out the corners of her eyes, shiny tears trickled down her fluffy white cheeks.

For the first time in days, the Changeling Queen experienced things she had not, not only for these last harrowing days, but for years. Not just relief and joy, but a second chance.

“Prisoner 24601, get up. You have a visitor.”

24601 refused to get up from the moist stone she had grown accustomed to in her cell, not just out of defiance, but exhaustion. In her however short time being incarcerated here, she had grown weak and ill. She no longer felt hunger, the will to eat having disappeared upon her acceptance of her dim fate. What use was there in wasting whatever little energy she had left in following the jailer mare’s orders?

The jailer mare, angered, shouted, “Prisoner! I told you to get up—”

“That will be enough.”

24601’s eyes came alive. She knew that voice. She was up on her knees before her weary mind could register it. When she got a good look at her visitor, she nearly did a double take.

“Leave us.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The jailer mare slinked away, leaving the figure who was exceedingly taller than even the average changeling mare, to face the emaciating prisoner, the years’ old bars the only thing standing between them.

Chrysalis, straight-faced, spoke coolly, “Konnichiwa, Cerci.”

Author's Note

(a/n) Hey, everyone, sorry for how long it took for this chapter to be completed. As I said in my blog, I have been struggling with creative and writing inspiration lately. Well, maybe a short respite will help me rejuvenate.

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm proud to say this is where the characters really begin to move out of the darkness and towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

Chapter Fourteen

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Fourteen

A sitting room in the palace was more for show than anything else, each of the countless brethren competing to be grander and more superfluously ornate than the last. Exotic plants propped up on posh tables filled the air with the tantalizing scents of faraway lands, and works of art hung from the walls for all to marvel. They mainly consisted of countryside oil paintings from within their kingdom, but an artistic expert’s eagle eye could spot the spoils of war amongst them. A set of sofas and armchairs decorated with mulberry silk pillows were positioned in a semicircle around a blue ursa skin rug and in front of a welcoming fireplace in which expensive kindling crackled in the mesmerizing flames.

Yet this vast richness mainly pleased the maidens in charge of cleaning, if not the rare foreign diplomats and nobles taking palace tours. The Roachanov family was not exactly the type to hold regular tea breaks and meet-ups together. Many members of the Roachanov family considered themselves too busy to scatter around the palace for trifles unnecessary to their daily routines. All the more off it seemed that four of the most important family members chose to be in the same room for tea.

“We’re happy that you’ve come back to us, Chrysalis,” Prince Pincer said from his sofa opposite his nieces as they together in the sitting room, wearing a smile but also retaining a reasonable degree of cautiousness around the eldest. “For a time, your sister and I feared the worst.”

Chrysalis mumbled something unintelligible, more preoccupied with staring intently at the crackling grate than anything else. She was sat so slouched, so ungracefully in her sofa it created the appearance of the plump leather swallowing her up.

By all rights, this was supposed to be a time for the royal family to come together and rejoice. The news spread throughout the entire palace within the hour, probably less, that Princess Pupa was alive and recuperating well, and the Roachanov clan who had been holding their breath for restless nights could now sigh and shed tears of relief. The Prime Minister and the other cabinet ministers, meanwhile, were sent messages to inform them the potential successional crisis had mostly been averted, at least for the time being.

However, such a sensation of overwhelming happiness was strangely absent in the sitting room. Chrysalis told her uncle and sister about her and the Princess’ little heart-to-heart chat in her chamber and Cerci’s release, naturally making sure to leave out some of the more intimate details. While the young servant went about her work, all the worn out mare could do was be with her family.

“So how would you say you’re feeling now?” Pincer asked, his hoof idly smoothing itself over the sofa’s fat foreleg rest. “Better?”

She mustered up a half-hearted, “Better.”

“I am glad to hear that.” It definitely served as an early and much welcomed signal that things were at last returning to normality. The cabinet needed its leader to return and resume her duties as soon as possible.

“I feel like… the drugs are finally wearing off.” Chrysalis rubbed the side of her head, which was experiencing the return of a familiar nagging pain. “I might need some more of my…”

A stern frown tugged his features. “I can talk to the doctors and have a maid bring some painkillers in if you wish,” he said. “However, if you’re referring to those red pills I know you’ve been taking, I’m afraid my answer is no.”

She flinched, shrinking at what she figured was going to be a lengthy reprimand, like that greedy filly who could not keep her grabby hooves out of a cookie jar. The pills were naturally not something she openly discussed with her family what with the backlash and unneeded stress it would cause on their part. Now, in the wake her meltdown, she would not be surprised if they whole palace knew or even now believed she was some sort of addict.

Pincer shook his head, saying, “Chrysalis, I honestly thought you to be wiser than doing something so reckless as taking drugs.”

“I’ve been stressed, Uncle,” she defended. “They were only to help me cope.”

“And yet you could not think of any reasonable alternatives?”

“My doctor prescribed them to me as medication. They’re not narcotics or anything like that!”

“That doesn’t change the fact they’ve been outlawed in several countries! And what’s more…” He stopped and let out a sigh, thinking before he chose to go from scolding into a full on rant.

When he was informed about what his niece had been up to, his initial thoughts were one of incredulousness and anger, but some hours of meditation made it clear for the old Gensui that this really was not as shocking a development as it would be for most families. With the momentous pressure his niece had been under for so long, was it really a shock a dependency like pill-popping had clasped its claws over her throat?

Pincer indeed could have reamed into her with a schoolmaster’s lecture about the dangers of careless drug usage and the potential danger she had put herself in. But instead, his wisdom was great enough to tell him this may not have been the best time to scold her.

“Chrysalis… I am going to arrange an appointment for you as soon as possible,” he told her with finality. “As understanding and supportive as I always try to be, this is something I cannot abide by for your own best interests. I want to see to it that you receive whatever appropriate treatment before this problem gets any worse.”

“Yes, Uncle.” There was no point in her bothering to argue or talk back, nor did she possess the energy. Once Uncle Pincer put his hoof down it stayed down. Furthermore, regardless how she craved the bitter taste of those blessed crimson capsules, it did not mean she was ignorant. She knew full well they were not good for her.

“And you will attend.”

“I will.”

“... Good.”

His dim, greyed eye flashed slightly with recollection and decided to move the discussion onto to a lighter note. “Now, on another topic, I do not want you to worry. I have ordered the servants to prepare Pupa’s room for her return. It will be just as it was before...” He got the better of himself and cleared his throat into his hoof. “You know.”

“That’s a sweet thought,” she listlessly chuckled and folded her forelegs, “but Cerci will most likely insist on redecorating the room anyway. She knows what Pupa will like.”

“Sounds rather territorial of her.”

“That’s only rational.”

“... would a drink do you well?” Pincer offered as he motioned to the polished, silver-plated coffee pot set up on a small round table. “If you want, I can even have those little cream cakes you like brought in.”

“Thanks, Uncle, but I’m not that hungry.” She poured herself a coffee and took a couple of sips but then left it otherwise untouched. The elderly changeling observed the movement in her eyes as they twitched back and forth from the glowing embers to the changeling sitting several spaces away from her on the sofa.

All the while, Princess Danauria sat in her own little world, one where the only changeling she shared the sofa with was her dozing son, who was tucked under her foreleg as she played with a turf of mane on the crown of his head. She had been keeping her Morphin close to her ever since his cousin was hospitalized, only letting him out of her sight when absolutely necessary.

Her eyes looked up and, for a split second, they met with her sister’s. They were ice cold and piercing as the sharp edge of a sword, which was a huge contrast to the affectionate manner in how she cradled her son. Chrysalis could feel her sister’s scorn like a splash of freezing water in the face and, crestfallen, swivelled around to face the fireplace again with her chin in hoof.

Pincer swiftly put it all together in his head and, in no time, decided what had to be done. It was better he gave his nieces their space for them to defuse this ticking time bomb themselves.

“I’m going to check on something,” he spoke hastily as he stood up and turned to leave the room. “I shall be back soon.”

Pincer had left the room before either sister could open their mouths to interject. Chrysalis mentally cursed the old stallion; a brief exchange between them told both sisters they pretty much had to start talking now.

“He’s cute,” Chrysalis blurted, not able to find any other way to approach her sister.

Danauria’s leg tightened instinctively around her son and stared at her sister as if she had said something profoundly idiotic. “What?”

“I’m just saying Morphin looks really cute,” she said uncertainly, looking sheepish and awkward. “You know... when he’s sleeping.”

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, so now you’re talking to me!” Danauria snorted, flicking her mane with contempt. “And here I was, sitting here, thinking you told me I was never to speak to you again!”

“Daury, I’m so sorry I said all those horrible things to you,” Chrysalis apologized without a second thought. There was not a hint of fight or resistance in her voice, only the utmost sincerity. She took both her dainty, very soft hooves (no doubt from all the imported lotions she used) and gazed imploringly into her stony eyes. “I was in a very bad way at the time, and I didn’t mean a word of it.”

“You also slapped me in the face, in case you ‘forgot’.”

‘I hardly touched you.’ For the briefest moment, that was what she wanted to say, but, for now at least, her better judgement was in the front seat and she withheld her tongue.

Chrysalis spoke profusely to ensure she was not misunderstood, “I was wrong. So very wrong. Please, Daury, I need you to forgive me. You’re my little sister.”

The younger royal still proved difficult to convince. She pried away her sister’s hooves and looked away. In Chrysalis’ point of view it was like she no longer considered her worthy of even the decency of eye contact.

Danauria got up from the sofa, facing her tail to her, which writhed angrily like a snake in the dust. Slowly, she walked across the room to the spitting fire place, scooping Morphin up in her magic as she did. She refused to let her guard down around her sister for a moment, especially with her only baby in the same room, and set the colt down in the sofa his great-uncle had used prior.

“Sometimes that just isn’t enough, Chrysalis.” Her voice did not drip with anger or hatred, only disappointment. Chrysalis knew it all too well: it was that kind of disappointment only a brother or sister who had truly been let down by their sibling could exhibit. “W-When we were all only hatchlings, have you any idea how much I looked up to you? Not just me; we all did.” She rounded back on her, wiping her sore eyes against her silk sleeve. “You were my big sister, Chryssie! We spent whole mornings playing dolls and dress-up together, do you remember that? We could always rely on each other!”

Chrysalis dipped her head into her chest. She and Danauria had never been especially close, save for their halcyon hatchling days when their young lives enabled them time for play. They only drifted apart as they grew up into their destined roles as a queen and a socialite princess. While Danauria was being trained in court etiquette and how to walk with stacks of books on her head, Chrysalis was often taken away by their father for extensive periods of time for her grooming for the throne. It all happened so gradually, they failed to notice it.

“Too bad I can’t say the same anymore.”

“I remember those days, Daury,” the older sister sighed as she stood up and ambled in her direction. Her eyes lingered on the floor as her gossamer tail dragged along the floor after its owner. “I loved all those times we had together just being children. But we both grew up. We had our duties to perform and there was nothing we could do about it.” She raised her hoof and took her under the chin in a loving manner. “But… I’m still that filly you knew. I’m still your big sister Chryssie, that hasn’t changed.”

“Are you? Are you really?” Danauria scoffed, gently brushing the hoof away like it was dirty. “Tell me something: do you honestly think the Chryssie I grew up with would ever hurt the changelings she loved the way you have? Hmm? Well, Chrysalis?”

Opening her mouth to respond, she promptly buttoned her lip again and dropped her shoulders apologetically, almost as an omission that her sister had undisputably proven her argument.

“No.”

“You know something? I’m not just mad about the fight,” Danauria went on, leaning toward her sister, flashing her fangs. The older sister could have sneered at the notion of a beta mare like her actually taking a bite at her. “That filly means the world to this whole family, Chrysalis, not just you or that servant. She’s my niece!” She slapped her hoof against her chest and gestured angrily at the colt curled up peacefully asleep on the leather sofa. “My son’s future wife!”

If she were to answer immediately and truthfully, Chrysalis had no idea what she was talking about until the lights quickly went off in her head. The arrangement both sisters agreed to some time after Pupa’s birth in which their hatchlings were engaged to one day be wed and Morphin would subsequently become Pupa’s consort upon the latter’s ascension to Queendom. It had been such a long time, Chrysalis plum forgot all about it.

‘I even tossed her into an arranged marriage without thinking about her interests,’ she brooded with renewed self-contempt. Wearily, she placed a hoof over her face and pulled it down slowly, adding a heavy sigh for emphasis.

“Why am I not surprised?! That filly’s the one you should be saving all your apologies for and you know it!” she chastised her, whip cracking her hoof at the door. “You say you’re sorry? Well, how about you go and tell Pupa how sorry you are yourself?!”

“I—grrr!” Chrysalis held the side of head and growled in frustration. “I can’t!”

“Oh! Of course—”

“Could you?!” she cut her off, rebuking. It was now her time to be play inquisitor, having grown tired of being on the receiving of it long enough. “If you were me, Daury, could you bear to look that filly in the eyes after what happened?! Can you imagine what will be in them?” She began to pace anxiously up and down the room. “Only days ago, all Pupa wanted was my love! Who knows what she must think of me now! She’ll reject me the instant I walk in the room!”

Danauria watched her sister canter around the room in bewilderment. When she soon had enough, she intercepted her in her ravings, taking her by her the face and giving her a sharp slap to try and bring her back to earth. Chrysalis stopped what she was doing the instant her head snapped ninety degrees. The room fell unsettlingly quiet once again; the crackle of the fireplace seemed to have even faded away.

Chrysalis did not show reaction beyond blinking stupidly and nursing her inflicted cheek, which was now blushing bright green. A half-smirk crawled across her muzzle. She noticed how Danauria had remained in her personal space, her eyes boring into her own. Their horns were nearly touching.

“Hmm. I think you owed me that.”

But there was no indicator of amusement on the younger sister’s face. “You have led armies, you’ve invaded and conquered whole kingdoms, and you’re scared of your own seven-year-old filly.” It was not a question, just a simple iteration of fact and the way she said it that made it sound all the more pathetic. “How did you ever become so spineless, Chrysalis?! ”

“Oh, well, how easy it is for you!” Chrysalis shot back. Their horns were scraping against each other now, sending off pink and green sparks. “That you can stand there bold as brass and act like ‘Mother of the Year’ when your son is safe and sound with you! What would you have me say to her, if you’re such the expert?”

“Is simply saying ‘I’m sorry’ that difficult for you!”

A foalish whine captured the adult’s attention and their arguing came to an abrupt halt. Their eyes fell on Morphin, stirring in his spot on the sofa with discomfort etched on his face. They must have woken him up with their shouting; it actually surprised Chrysalis how he had managed to sleep through it all until now.

Danauria was at her little one’s side in a heartbeat, putting one hoof under his head and using the other to tuck him into her bosom. After she cushioned herself onto the seat, she rocked Morphin until his whimpers became occasional snuffles. He opened one infected eye to look pitifully up at his mother.

“I had a bad dream,” he whinnied.

“Hush.” She smiled a mothering smile, bopping him on the tip of his muzzle. “Mama’s here for you.”

Batting his weak hoof against her face, Morphin groaned, clutching his belly with another, “But I’m hungry.”

“It’s alright, pumpkin,” Danauria delicately put her lower-half of her foreleg to his mouth so that one of her many holes touched his lips. In no time at all, the indentment gave off a dull pink glow and Morphin’s face livened up as he smelled food. Hungrily, he suckled away at the sweet, sweet secretion of pure love like nectar.

Chrysalis, who found herself being largely ignored, watched their tender moment with simmering, restrained envy. It was as if they were viciously mocking her with their display of affection. On the other hoof, it dumbfounded her she continued to nurse love to him at his age. She shook her head, grunting some obscenity and went off to sulk in the corner.

Her sister sensed her inner lament, but said nothing. Morphin was the only important thing to her now. He was her kingdom, her domain as a mother, and in her mind and many would agree, Chrysalis had failed spectacularly in that regard.

When she believed Morphin was soothed enough and dozing back off to sleep, Danauria’s attention shifted back to Chrysalis. “I’ve always been here for him, you know that?” she spoke coolly, half-whispering so she would not disturb her son. “I may not be ‘Mother of the Year’, but no matter how busy I am, I make the time for Morphin, and that’s more than anychangeling can say about you.”

Not a word. The Queen only returned the sour glare out the corner of her eye, her arched back not even flinching from that last biting remark.

“You’re really sorry, Chrysalis? Prove it. Go to Pupa now and say you’re sorry.” She talked over her firmer when she attempted to interject. “No big speech. No dancing around the bush. Just tell her what she needs to hear, because right now, that’s all you can do.”

Once again, she received only silence from her sister, whose frown faded away as she digested her what she said. Danauria took note of this.

Sighing with fatigue, she finished in a tone noteworthily softer, “You’re always going to be my sister, Chrysalis, nothing can change that. Don’t make it any harder for me to forgive you than it already is.”

Five solid minutes went by until Chrysalis at last shifted from her spot. There was an unspoken decision made, one sister understanding perhaps a bit better the wreckage that had become of the other’s life. Though Chrysalis still felt the gnawing fear in her soul of what her daughter might think of her, she realized Danauria was in fact right.

They exchanged one last look before she tossed her tail and strided out the room, leaving the stunned mother alone with her colt.

Danauria, sensing a twinge of regret, may have said something to stop her and bring her back if not for another whine from Morphin taking her priority. She moved her leg to his mouth, allowing the poor thing to latch onto the largest hole he saw and suckle some more.

Decades of service in the Changeling Kingdom’s royal army had trained Pincer to endure high pressured situations and intense duress. All changelings in their oversized and teetering army, whether they were high-ranking officers or conscripted peasant soldiers, were required to have nerves built of steel so as to ward off all external and internal threats to their beloved homeland. If you had not that, you were barely considered stallion enough to clean out the latrines.

In his lifetime Prince Pincer had faced down legions of foreign armies and wild beasts the likes of ursa majors and manticores. He thwarted overzealous rebels' attempts to undermine the state—and that was only the tip of the iceberg.

Now it was the smouldering anger of a fluffy pony princess that left this battle-scarred Gensui feeling only two feet tall—and her heavier frame had nothing to do with it. The tragedy that beset his family had pushed any thoughts about the ponies who were toiling in the palace back into the farthest region of his brain, even when Celestia, of all the ponies on this earth, arrived at their gates. At least unless she took command of scared, overwhelmed palace guards, filling the kitchen with subjects of her own species and introducing soldiers to paperwork. At least thirty ponies, Heavy Duty near the front, stood together in a semi-organized huddle in the palace kitchen where they had been summoned. The group itself was made up of mares and stallions ranging from their early twenties to those in their sixties and some even wearing uniforms befitting palace staff, though they all shared a similar dirty, malnourished appearance. Most did not look as ragged as Heavy did, but the indications of love-draining were certainly there.

They looked with visible worry at Princess Celestia and Prince Pincer, who were standing across from each other at the kitchen’s preparation table, neither looking directly at the other. Celestia occasional nibbled on the two pickle, seaweed, mustard and mayonnaise sandwiches she had prepared for herself, while everypony and anychangeling patiently waited for a guard to arrive with the files in tow as per the Princess’ request, or rather command.

For the ponies, it was like watching the world’s most uncomfortable game of tennis, waiting for something, anything to happen, be it even Prince Pincer’s head suddenly exploding into a thousand little chunks. No such thing happened, thank goodness. Regardless, everypony including Prince Pincer could sense the unnatural heat radiating inside the contained room. The temperature gave the impression to be mirroring the Princess’ mood: the air had become distinctly humid and some could swear they saw condensation on the white kitchen tiles.

Pincer wished he never departed from his nieces. He was approached in the hallway by a pair of grim-faced guards shortly after he excused himself from the sitting room. They told him the Princess required his or preferably Queen Chrysalis’ attention at once. Thinking his niece did not need this right now and guessing it something unimportant, he chose to go with them in her stead.

He could not have been more wrong. They informed him, to his gut-churning horror, that the situation was worse than he thought. They arrived at the hallway outside the kitchen to see the ruler of Equestria was indeed in a discussion spiralling out of control with a changeling mare. Worse still, just as the guards said, she was a cabinet minister!

She was a junior minister who, like some of her peers, had a room rented out for her in the palace. Skulking around the palace was an old practice for changeling ministers, younger ones in particular, as they sought out any opportunity possible to slip their way into into the royal inner-circles, usually through being in the right place at the right time. With the recent political supernova, Pincer was not at all surprised that some has chosen to hover around as close as possible as opposed to being with the friends and families.

The hapless mare had been in the midst of rambling incoherently, almost frantically at the bemused leader of her country’s political enemies. The closest thing Pincer had made out was how she “knew nothing of ponies or any in the palace!” and she “had no idea what she was talking about!” He actually had pitied her; she had been completely unprepared for anything close to this.

Pincer had interfered quickly before it turned into a complete mess, first apologizing to Princess Celestia for the confusion, then comforting and reassuring the visibly distraught minister. After he ordered the two guards to escort her back to her room, he politely readdressed the Princess to find she was less than pleased, for reasons he figured were beyond the rudeness of an official.

One could only imagine the unadulterated fear that must have been coursing through the old stallion’s veins caused by standing in that kitchen within the Sun Goddesses' peripheral vision, abandoned by the rest of the world.

The kitchen doors creaked open and in walked the guard. A breeze of colder, fresher air blew into the dense room with his entry and broke Pincer out of his fear-induced trance. The guard levitated a heavy stack of thick files by his side, as per his orders, and kept his head bowed the whole time. Quickly and quietly, he set them in front of Celestia and backed out of the room, looking relieved to be getting as far away from the Sun Princess as possible.

These were personal files on all the ponies who were working within the palace.

“Thank you. Now...” After she finished one of her sandwiches, Celestia magically took three files from the top of the stack and began looking through them simultaneously, asking Pincer evenly as she did, “I take it these are all of them then? These ponies, I mean.” She jabbed a hoof at the mass of ponies whose individual files she was examining to her right. While she did not sound particularly angry, the distinct lack of usual warmth in her voice was obvious to everypony in the room.

“No,” Pincer answered, carefully thinking about his next choice of words. “There are some more ponies. I think they’re presently doing chores out in the city.” He performed a mental check and added before she could ask the inevitable, “There cannot be more than a hundred and fifty ponies working and residing here.”

“You’re certain?”

“My memory is keen.” The changeling did his best to conceal his frayed nerves threatening to snap.

Celestia went back to reading the files, her gorgeous but stern magenta eyes darting left to right with a typewriter’s speed. Her research was only interrupted when she took occasional nibbles from her second sandwich.

She soon picked up on the anxiety saturating the kitchen and set the files down again.

“Your Highness,” she addressed him again, almost sighing. “I want to reassure you I’m a mare who much prefers to listen before she leaps to conclusions. Now my sister on the other hoof…” her voice trailed off, inwardly shuddering as she recalled some of Luna’s more ‘intense’ moments. “But in either case, this is a very serious matter, as would be any situation concerning my little ponies. I think you’ll agree that I require some explanation.”

Pincer steeled himself and said, “I wish only to clear up any misunderstandings you have.”

“You’ve told me these ponies,” the Solar Princess drew out slowly and gestured her slippered hoof to the assembly of ponies, focusing on keeping her temper in check. Though she may have been willing to listen, that did not mean her anger had simmered down entirely. “That they are servants for the palace?”

“They are indeed.”

“Strange. I honestly couldn’t imagine, considering current relations between our kinds, changelings hiring ponies as house servants.”

“We have had ponies working for us at the palace for many years, Princess Celestia. I can guarantee you they are given the same tasks and living arrangements as their changeling counterparts.”

“I will have to take your word on that, but… this is where I’m rather confused,” Celestia cocked a brow and reopened one of the three chosen files again to demonstrate, “because it says here, at least for the ponies I’ve read about, that they’re currently serving sentences for criminal offenses in your kingdom.”

This was the part Pincer knew was coming and dreaded all the same. What he said in the next few minutes and how he said it might very well have grave ramifications for him, his niece and the two kingdoms as a whole.

He bit the bullet. “That is... correct.”

She tilted her head and asked, still confused, “If that is the case and these ponies are in fact your legal prisoners, then why do you keep them here in your palace? Shouldn’t they be serving out their sentences somewhere more appropriate, like a prison?”

Oh, what Pincer would not have given to be on a battlefield right now. Anything to put an end to this conversation would be welcomed; maybe a maid barreling through the door crying ‘fire’ or Celestia just incinerate him already with all the alicorn wrath she was undoubtedly hiding behind her cool visage.

Caressing the base of his enormous horn where an aching pain was located, he groaned, “Princess, that is because, in lieu of actual jail time, they are all serving their sentences here instead. As servants.”

Celestia did not reply to this revelation for the longest time, staring at him with the simple confusion of a young filly having been told where foals came from. When it all clicked, her hard eyes softened up and she gave him a nod of understanding.

“You’re referring to ‘indentured servitude’.”

“More or less.”

She looked toward her little ponies, most of whom were still trembling, knowing their fear and awe were directed more at her than Pincer. Not every pony in their brief lives had the golden chance to see their Goddess Princess in the flesh, and it left all those in the kitchen short on breath. Celestia knew this kind of reaction from her subjects all too well and was used to it by now, despite how much she wished she could change it.

Her gaze centered specifically on that same ragged pony she first encountered in this palace.

“Heavy Duty, could you step forward please?”

All eyes fell on the put upon earth pony who now had the misfortune of being put on the spot twice. The wretched stallion looked to his compatriots for some kind of support, only to receive a short, sharp shove in the flank forwards.

Heavy Duty came hither and prostrated himself before Celestia, wordlessly pledging his loyalty to her as his natural Princess and only ruler.

She rolled her eyes at such needless groveling and instructed him, “Stand up, please. I need to ask you some questions, and I need you to answer them truthfully. Will you do that for me, Heavy?” She sent Pincer a sideways glance to warn him not to interfere in this.

“I wouldn’t tell you anything but, Your Majesty.”

“Heavy, tell me,” she said as she levelled a friendly smile at him, “what crime did you commit while you were here?”

“I…” Heavy’s knees remained half bent and he sunk his head to the floor, trying to hide the look of shame on his face. He seriously regretted his sanctimonious display of loyalty now. “I committed a robbery, my Princess.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

He loudly swallowed what had to be a jagged rock jammed in his throat and pitifully regaled his story against his will, “Three years ago, I was travelling outside Equestria. It’s something I dreamed of doing ever since I was a colt. I-It was going fine… until one day, I realized I’d strayed far from the course. I… I don’t know what it was; maybe my compass broke or I’d misread the maps and taken a few wrong turns. All I know is I eventually found myself here in the Changeling Kingdom.” Thick beads of sweat formed on his brow as the pain and humiliation he felt over the whole affair were being brought to the forefront. “It only got worse when I found out I’d been pickpocketed. I’d no way of getting back home! I was stranded in some forsaken village in the middle of nowhere without a single bit to my name!”

“It sounds like you were in a dreadful situation.”

“Oh, it was, Princess. I didn’t know what to do. I got desperate so…” The stallion harnessed whatever courage he had left to look her in the face. “So I broke into a house one night and tried to steal some money, just enough so I could get home, I swear.”

Instead of expressing her disapproval of his universally contemptible act, however desperate his circumstances apparently were, she asked, “And you were caught and arrested?” She perfectly understood this was not something he was proud of or even comfortable talking about, but it was necessary she heard this straight from the pony’s mouth in order for her to help her subjects.

“Yes. The changeling who lived there discovered me and he attacked me! The Royal Guard—their Royal Guard—then showed up and took me away. So they put me on trial: they said I was getting four years in prison for my crime. After that, I was brought here to the palace and they told me this was how I’d be serving my sentence.”

Celestia took the time to process all he told her, hooves to her lips and eyes unwaveringly fixed upon him. This grown stallion who was old enough to have his own foals looked more like a vulnerable colt himself. She had half a mind to give him a hug.

“I am sorry to hear what you’ve been through, Heavy,” she told him sympathetically as she stroked her hoof along his coarse mane. “Tell me a bit about your experience here. You look quite pale.”

Rubbing the back of his neck which long suffered from stiffness, Heavy went on to explain nervously, “Oh, oh well, it’s like Prince Pincer said himself: the royal family does treat us fairly. We don’t do any more than the changeling servants do. I mean… we clean, we cook, some of us even take care of their children… P-Princess?” His ramblings fumbled away once he saw Celestia, her eyes narrowing in on him in an analytical manner, slowly and gently reaching out and touching the side of his neck; she was examining the small prick marks, barely visible to the naked eye.

“Excuse me, Heavy,” Celestia drew out another breath, diverting her attention back to the old changeling and asked him reproachingly, “How often are these ponies being fed upon?”

There was no use in him denying it. Any idiot could see that these ponies were having their love drained from them, let alone the alpha pony herself. She had already put it all together and all but essentially had him caught in a snare. All the defeated stallion was able to do was play ball and answer her questions.

“Only once a week… so they are kept healthy and may retain their strength.”

“And this is the reason you have pony prisoners sentenced here.”

“One of the reasons. Yes.”

“Princess, wait!” somepony all of a sudden called out, eliciting a quiet collective gasp from the ponies and earning a concerned glance from the royals. A gangly young earth mare as thin as a matchstick had broken through the group. She approached Celestia hesitantly, saying, “I know how upset you must be, but please, Master Pincer has always been kind and fair to us. If you’d ask anypony here, you’d know he hasn’t fed on any of us, not even once.” She waved her hoof back at her fellow ponies, some of them nodding or mumbling in agreement. “I cannot speak for everypony here, but considering the reasons some of us are here, the Royal Family have treated us far kinder than you would expect.”

Though the calm, stoic expression on her face did not show it, Celestia was taken aback by the pony’s willingness to defend her changeling masters so readily. It would be easy for anypony to write off her actions as acting out of fear or even Stockholm Syndrome. However, the fair Sun Princess was able to see genuine sincerity in her and her fellow ponies’ eyes as she pleaded to her; one could tell a lot from the inflections in another’s orbs. Just to be safe, she silently cast a spell checking for any trace of magical influence at work. She was satisfied to find none.

“I’ve no doubt Prince Pincer has been a kindly master to you,” Celestia said, putting an end to the awkwardly prolonged silence. Her mood improved significantly: the humidity in the air was receding and becoming breathable once more. “And I admire your willingness to take responsibility for your actions.” She then added with a twinge of sternness lingering in her voice, “That being said, that doesn’t change how this has all been happening under my muzzle, that and the appearance of some of you still has me concerned.” Following another pause, she shifted back to Pincer one more time. “Your Highness, I would like to thank you for your honesty and cooperation. I know this has been far from the most convenient of times.”

‘I doubt I had any other choice but to be honest,’ the old stallion thought, albeit basking in a newfound sense of relief he was experiencing. He replied simply, bowing his head, “It is well within your right to look out for your ponies’ interests, Your Majesty. I would not expect anything less. If you would like my help in any other way…”

“Appreciated. I’ll be needing to have words with the Queen, that is, once she’s available. In the meantime, my ponies? I would enjoy having discussions with more of you, perhaps in more comfortable surroundings.”

A sea of heads all together nudged in the elder royal’s direction. Pincer gave them an assuring smile and a hasty nod, giving them his permission.

As he watched everypony shuffle out of the kitchen in the orderly fashion that years of working for the grandest estate in the land instills in one, and when the end of the last brightly coloured tail vanished behind the ajared door, the solitary bug pony was overcome with a wracking shiver.

It was not the shiver of terror one experiences when standing alone in a dark, murky corridor. His was a combination of both relief and abiding anxiety. It was the kind one experienced when an impending cataclysm stays pending and said individual is left worrying when or if it will ever come. At least for now, the mythical alicorn wrath that struck fear in the Dragonfly of the East, Carrier of a Manticore’s Heart, had been reburied within the Princess’ fluffy white exterior.

He prayed it stayed buried.

“Her village hailed her as their brave new champion and her deeds were heard far and wide across the land. Years later, she and Locus were wed and together, they bore the most beautiful, plentiful brood of hatchlings ever borne.”

Cerci turned the last page and shut the beautifully decorated tomb of changeling fairy tales. She tenderly stroked her filly’s head and whispered in her battish ear, “That filly who went up the dragon’s mountain had came back down a mare. The End.”

Pupa gurgled in her nanny’s loving forelegs. She was presently feeding from one of the larger holes indented in the mare’s smooth, slender leg, sucking up the oozing pure love like a hummingbird drinking its weight in nectar. Her plush ladybug had fallen aside and unceremoniously laying face down on the quilt which bobbed with the changeling’s movements.

High up on the stained glass window seal perched Philomena, the phoenix long forgotten by the changelings, watching them from her safe spectator’s distance. There was no chance of Cerci letting her get anyway near her Princess without blasting her into a well done spit roast.

They woke up from their cat nap not too long ago and before long, Pupa was already whining for Cerci to feed her. She never did fully outgrow the notorious ‘hatchling appetite’ phase where she required nourishment around the clock. Cerci contemplated fetching a nurse to wheel in some of that love soup, but Pupa only clung to her tighter whenever she tried shifting from her spot on the bed. That was how she eventually gave up and chose to just feed her the ‘old-fashioned way’.

It had been such a long time since Cerci nursed Pupa on her pure love, back when she was only a grossly overfed beachball of a hatchling. Oh, how Pupa missed this! The pink treacle was still as mouth-wateringly sweet as she could remember. It had been one of those shared experiences that Cerci had to inevitably put an end to at some point, but right now, she could not give a damn. And what was better than feasting on love than an enchanting story to boot?

While she had been rotting away in that dank hellhole, Cerci was at such a low where she genuinely believed she would never have the chance to read Pupa a story ever again. She certainly appreciated it all the more, considering how only days ago, she was lamenting how the child had been traumatized by tales of evil water monkeys. From this point onward, she swore she would read her filly a story whenever she desired.

“I know how much you love that story, sweetie,” she chirped to Pupa, who was still mindlessly lapping up the sappy substance she was secreting, becoming full and content with every nourishing drop. The result was leaving Cerci feeling a tad drained, but not so much so she felt at all disoriented. “When we get back to the palace, I’m gonna set your room up the way you like. I’ll even get back your old crib out if you want.”

Her belly now plumped up with its translucent plates giving off a pinkish glow, Pupa stopped nursing and let out the tiniest burp. She sunk deeper into Cerci’s motherly bosom, ignoring the increased snugness of her bandages. The prospect of napping in her crib again had her excited. The thick secure bars, her creepy crawly mobile playing a melodic tune and her snuggly blanket tucked up to her chin always made her feel safe and sound.

“Did you enjoy your meal, baby?” Cerci’s hoof danced fawningly through her mane, which could have done with a thorough brushing.

She picked up the muffled ‘uh-huh’ emanating from her fur.

“If you want…” she took her by the chin and tilted her head upwards, “I could feed you more of my love whenever you want. It’ll be just like when you were a grub.”

A flash lit up in Pupa’s harlequin pools. Her bottom jaw dangled open for a couple of seconds before her face stretched out into an ear-to-ear grin, showing off rows of remarkably sharp teeth. Bobbing her head up and down with vigour, she made loud puckering noises with her moistening lips, looking ready to sink her hooks back into a hole again, until Cerci put a hoof against her chest.

“Uh-uh, you’ve had your fill today. I don’t want you turning into a little fat bug.”

Pupa crossed her legs and pouted in a overplayed show of disappointment. With a sly grin, Cerci took her from under her hind legs and cradled her.

“C’mere, I’ve got something better for you…” She then proceeded to, without warning, blow a rich, ripe raspberry in the dead centre of her plated belly. Pupa threw her head back and burst into an interminable fit of giggles with some excess spittle flying out her mouth. “You like that! Who’s my baby? Who’s my baby?!”

The filly could only shriek and writhe helplessly; she was trapped and Cerci was merciless. Assault followed assault as her muzzle darted in to drop another raspberry bomb, her sadistic smirk speaking volumes of her treason.

‘I’m your baby!’ was what she wanted to squeal, but only the same infantile gurgles sloppily tumbled out her lips.

“You’re my baby! That’s right, you are! You’re my whole world, Pupa.”

By all rights, everything in Pupa’s world should have been right again, but somehow it wasn’t. Her favourite nanny had returned to her; she had been fed to her heart’s content while being read her favourite fairy tale, and now she was receiving a visit from the tremendous Raspberry Monster. And yet somehow, deep within her full and jiggling belly, she knew that beyond the walls of this strange room, something terrible was waiting for her.

When their laughter finally subsided and they both settled, Cerci was certain she could see, past the cheerful smile, worry still shimmering in her eyes.

She set a hoof on her round apple cheek, telling her seriously, “I want you not to worry, Pupa. You’re safe with me. I’ll protect you.” She curled up around and smothered her in another hug, retrieving ‘Lady the Ladybug’ from the bottom of the bed and giving it to her for safe measure. She then spat under her breath and added bitterly, almost dangerously, “I promise, if she even thinks about laying a hoof on you again, ooh, I’ll grab her by her horn and I’ll… I’ll…”

Cerci recognised her mistake too late. The dying remnants of Pupa’s laughter were completely extinguished; a shrill and heart-wrenching whinny had taken their place. She could feel Cerci’s rage wash over her, confusing and gripping her with unbridled panic. A mental image of familiar green eyes ablaze with rage, bearing down on Pupa like a looming nightmare filled her thoughts. To make it worse, she was also overcome with a sudden cold flush that was making her nauseous.

“Aww, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Cerci reached her hoof down and started massaging a sensitive spot between Pupa’s shoulder blades in a comforting gesture. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Relax, just relax…”

“Mmmmm.”

It proved to be a pretty effective technique. A tingling sensation running up and down her spine was enough to get Pupa purring like a kitten having the back of its ears scratched. She was at peace again. Poor Lady, meanwhile, had to contend with her antenna being gnarled at her mistress’ leisure.

Cerci breathed methodically in and out. Her hoof continued tracing an oval pattern over her plush fur as she thought to herself, reflecting. Witnessing her baby nearly go into a panic filled her with guilt. She should have known better than to talk about her mother in front of her; all it accomplished was reminding the Princess of the most horrifying memories of her short lifetime.

Sooner or later, she was going to need to sit Pupa down and have a serious discussion with her about her mother and ‘the incident’. If only she had an inkling of what she, or Chrysalis for that matter, was going to tell her.

Then came a rapping from a nearest door, the one glowing around its edges with faint amber. It was heard by them both. Cerci already had a good idea who was on the other side and it made her back go rigid.

“I’m gonna go get that, Pupa, you wait right here,” she tucked her back under her covers and climbed off the bed, her normally for show wings buzzing.

Pupa watched her hover off yearningly, annoyed that her massage come to an abrupt stop, but more confused by the uncharacteristic tonelessness in her voice. There was something definitely wrong and it coaxed her into holding Lady all the more closer.

She saw Cerci opening the door, allowing a stream of bright light to pour into the room and her eyes squinted reflexively. She heard her talking with somechangeling else. They were keeping their voices were kept so hushed it was impossible for her to make out anything they were saying.

“... I want to see my little girl, Cerci,” Chrysalis rasped, trying to stick her head through the door, she was unable to muscle her way passed the fiercely protective Cerci, who proved herself a competent barrier given her size. “Just for five minutes.”

“Well, right now, she doesn’t exactly want to see you,” she whispered back harshly while he glanced repeatedly back over her shoulder. “Look, this just isn’t the best time. You can come later.”

An attempt to shut the door on her was prevented when Chrysalis stuck her foreleg out. She winced from the pain shooting up her leg and fixed Cerci a warning glare.

“I’m not going anywhere. I am coming in. You seem to have forgotten that I am still your Queen, Cerci, and I do not need your permission to see my own daughter!”

Both mares, equal in their unwavering determined, tried facing each other down, narrowing their cats-eyes and flashing their teeth challengingly.

Cerci was the first to back down. She fanged her bottom lip and sighed, “Fine. Wait here.” She shut the door hard on Chrysalis’ face as the latter scowled and tried to protest.

The realization of what she just did settled in, and for a short time, her hooves were virtually stuck glued to the floor. A thousand thoughts buzzed through her head; this would undoubtedly be a disaster. The only reason she relented was because, in spite of her bravado and willingness to take a spear for her young charge, Queen still outclassed her in every aspect. At least this route meant less pointless drama.

Pupa had grown irritated from her nanny’s absence. She quickly got tired of chewing Lady’s antenna and was barely holding onto her by the time Cerci did return. She expected to be coddled some more, but instead, Cerci lifted her up, sat her on her haunches and draped a leg around her.

“Sweetie, I need you to listen carefully,” she spoke to her in the most serious voice in a long time. “In a minute, your mother is going to come in and have a talk with you.”

Pupa felt her blood run cold as solid ice before the last of her words left her mouth. Her eyes bugged so much they were ready to pop out their sockets. Her bones, protected by thick layers of pudge, quaked and Lady slipped out from her grasp. Her little heart was palpitating at an alarming rate, turning her breathing into short and frantic gasps.

A cracked squeak escaped her lips as she shook her head, for she was trying desperately to force her lungs to scream ‘NO!’ with all her might.

This was the last thing she needed right now, therefore, it only broke Cerci’s heart further to cover her mouth and shush her quiet.

“Pupa, please, she’s not going to hurt you, I promise.” Pupa did not look at all convinced and if she had to be honest with herself, Cerci was not especially persuaded either. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right here and I’ll hold you until it’s over, okay? Okay?”

Choking back a sob, Pupa threw herself into her chest, nearly toppling her over. Cerci let out an ‘oomf!’, her legs flying out and steadying herself in time. She really was a lot heavier than she remembered.

“Okay.” She waited for Pupa to calm down and gave her back Lady to squeeze before calling over to the door, “Come in, please.”

After a nerve-racking drawn out pause, the door opened and Chrysalis stepped inside the room.

Saying nary a word, the Changeling Queen begun the excruciatingly long trek from the entrance to the bed. She hung her swan-like neck low to the ground and allowed her gossamer mane to cover half her sullen face, the other half a relief map of woe and shame.

“Hello, Your Majesty, would you like to come and have a seat?” Cerci asked, invitingly patting the space beside her.

Chrysalis stopped at the foot of the bed. She peered through the cerulean veil and caught full view of the quivering ball curled up in the younger mare’s lap. Her stomach suddenly felt a million times tighter, like she was wearing a spiked iron corset.

She fought against every urge to spin on her hooves and fly out that door as she climbed onto and sat on the edge of the bed. She went to great lengths, though, to ensure there was a significant distance between them.

“Thank you, Cerci,” she murmured, not having the stomach to look at either of them directly.

For what felt like an eternity of silence ticking away, nochangeling knew what to do next. They probably did not picture themselves getting this far. Pupa stayed curled up in her ball with Lady, praying that her mother would go away soon, while the grownups could only give each other awkward looks. Somechangeling had to break the ice; Cerci figured it might as well have been her.

Bracing herself in case she slipped a disk, she wrapped her legs around and hoisted her up. “Pupa… I need you to come out of there now.” Pupa immediately began wailing and, as she unwittingly uncurled from her protective position, clung to Cerci’s kimono, forcing the latter to sigh and pry her hooves loose, however awful it made her feel to do so. “Yes.”

Hearing her filly’s cries made Chrysalis cringe and her mane stand on end. She regretted ever having come here. This was not how she wanted it to be. What was she honestly trying to achieve? To prove a point to her sister that she cared? Her personal damnation revealed itself in the terror of her child at the very presence of her mother.

When Cerci managed to overpower her, she planted Pupa and her plush in between her pulled up and folded hind legs, keeping her in place by the shoulders. Mother and daughter, after days apart, were left no choice but to face each other.

It was as bad as Chrysalis dreaded, if not worse. Her baby’s innocent eyes were normally so lively and full of a hatchling’s wonder; now all she saw was terror. Her lips trembled uncontrollably, getting dribble all down her robe. In fact, her whole body was bristling like a bare tree in the winter wind. The bandages were the most disturbing. Not only did they look unnatural and binding against her squidgy form, they created the eerie effect of them being the only thing holding the child together.

It carved a gaping hole in the ageing mare’s chest.

Chrysalis tried to make herself appear as non-threatening as she possibly could, hauling the rest of her body onto the bed and resting on her belly in the traditional fashion. After debating it carefully in her mind, she extended a comforting hoof to Pupa’s face with the innocent intent to brush back some stray strands of mane.

“P-Pupa…?”

Sensing a threat, Pupa hid her face within Lady, using her as a pseudo-shield, and tried in vain to crawl back into the sanctuary of Cerci’s belly. Her rapidly beating heart had risen to her throat, blood pumping in her ears and drowning out the surrounding noise with every dull thud.

“No no no, Pupa, it’s okay,” Chrysalis said pitifully, her hoof wavering in midair. “Y-You don’t need to be scared.”

But Pupa refused to be fooled. Mother may have sounded softer and kinder, but she knew now it was all a big, fat lie. When her hoof was inches away from her face, she glared up at her and bared her baby fangs. A low, threatening hiss rattled loudly from her throat.

Chrysalis recoiled her hoof and gaped at her, stunned into silence. Neither she or Cerci had ever heard Pupa hiss once in her young life. To tell the truth, they would not have believed the tiny changeling had a hiss in her.

“Pupa!” a shocked Cerci scolded her. “You do not hiss, young lady, especially not at your mother!”

The filly physically shrunk under her nanny’s strict tone, head lowered and ears splayed against her skull, ashamed of herself. For a moment there, just a moment, she strongly thought about biting her mother.

Although her daughter’s outburst temporarily deterred her, Chrysalis brushed it off and went for a different approach, in which she cautiously lifted and caressed Pupa’s withered, tightly wound leg. This time, she was offered a lot less resistance.

The sight of her own handiwork was enough to force tears from the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. She handled the limb with the tender loving care a parent should her child, and trailed the tip of her hoof along through her fur, being careful not to irritate the bandaged areas.

A tickling sensation shot up the her leg and throughout her body, in turn earning a giggle or two from the filly.

Chrysalis raised her hoof. “Hmm?” She tucked the mane strands back behind her ear, only proceeding to stroke her cheek once she received a hesitant nod.

All of Pupa’s muscles tensed up and her tummy lurched at her mother’s hoof coming in contact with her cheek. She anticipated only a vicious smack that would leave her skin screaming bright green. Quite surprisingly, she found her mother’s touch warm and caring. It was actually pretty nice, so much so Pupa’s taste buds were salivating from the distinct flavour of love wafting off her mother like the alluring scent of the yummy pink soup.

No!

She shook her head defiantly, reality sinking in. Every instinct in her still urged Pupa to reject and shove her mother away. Rage no longer blazed in her mother’s pupils and her voice sounded near unrecognizable to the one she was used to… but it could not be true. It was a lie, it had to be! She knew what she did!

The poor girl was bewildered beyond words. Why was her mother acting like this? To mock her? All she wanted from her was the same love and attention Cerci selflessly gave. Why was that such a selfish thing to ask? Mommies are supposed to love their hatchlings more than anything, she understood that much! And what did she get instead? She ignored her, yelled in her face, and hit her until... Pupa did not want to think of such things.

Pupa broke down in loud, heaving sobs, fresh hot tears rolling down her cheeks, gathering on the chin before they fell to the plush surface of her toy in splashes. She yanked her head away from Chrysalis and buried her face into Lady’s shell, who considerately absorbed her tears like a good friend.

“Oh! Oh, no, Pupa, c-come to me!” In one quick but gentle motion, Chrysalis swooped her child up from Cerci’s lap and hugged her for all she was worth, allowing her to cry uncontrollably into her shoulder. The knocked around ladybug fell carelessly to one side for the uptenth time. Chrysalis did not bother thinking about her actions; her brain had switched off and her heart was at the wheel. “Come to your mommy, my little hatchling! My precious!”

As her filly was essentially snatched away from her, Cerci could hear a distant voice screaming in the back of her head, ‘Get your hooves off my baby!’, but she knew better than that. She covered her mouth, mentally commanding herself to stay out of it.

“I’m sorry, Pupa!” Chrysalis did her best to hold back her own tears, trying to remain strong for her, but failing miserably. Besides, she had cried enough for a lifetime these past few days. It was now Pupa’s turn to cry and cry she did. “I’m so, so sorry! I-I never meant to! Shhh…”

Her words provided seldom comfort, and Pupa bawled only louder and harder. The bond of trust between them had been shattered, and to her, it was as irreparably broken as some of the toys she abused. Unable to wriggle out of her hold like a maggot caught in a scavengers’ talons, there was nothing more for her to do but let all the betrayal and heartache festering within in her pour out until her lungs went raw.

“Mommy loves you very much, Pupa,” Chrysalis whispered tearfully in her ear. Her daughter’s breathing felt hot against her shoulder. “M-Mommy did a… very bad thing. I’m so, so sorry I hurt you!”

It took a long time for the filly’s wailing to die down to weeps. Her chest still heaved hard and she had developed a bad bout of hiccups. Tears, saliva and runoff from her muzzle left wet marks on her mother’s shoulder.

Their viselike embrace eventually ended and they looked at each other directly again, though their awkward positioning meant their muzzles were inches from touching.

“Do you feel better now?”

“Hmmm.” Pupa snuffled and tried vainly to wipe tears from her eyes, which had now turned a pinkish-green due to her profuse crying. Her whole face was drenched, as if she had been out in the rain for a long time. At last she made direct eye contact with her mother.

Chrysalis smiled and cast a drying spell for her, evaporating the warm tears off of her face until nothing but greenish, salt-stained streaks were left behind.

But it was not enough; there was plenty more she needed to say, and even then, she realized they most likely could not take her daughter’s pain away. The Queen took a deep inhale and spoke from the heart.

“Oh, Pupa, please believe me, I didn’t mean any of those… disgusting things I said when I… you know. I was wrong.” Anychangeling could tell how much this was emotionally tearing her apart, regardless how much she fought to conceal it. She leaned in and affectionately bobbed the ends of their muzzles together, ignoring the cold stickiness on Pupa’s. “You’re my daughter. You’re my little Princess. And I can’t say I’m sorry enough for not treating you like it.”

Pupa was stunned and her nanny possibly more so. An admission of fault coming out of the mouth of a proud, supposedly infallible creature as the Queen of the Changelings was something inconceivable, at least that was how Cerci and countless changelings were brought up to think.

The love bubbling in Chrysalis’ heart for her offspring was palpable, overspilling like a saturated sponge and overwhelming Pupa’s senses. She was shocked above all else to see her eyes were wet; she did not think her mother even could cry.

“I’ve wronged you horribly, Pupa, but please,” she pleaded, her voice growing more desperate the longer it took to get a response of any kind. “I promise things will be different from now on. I won’t spend all my time working and I’ll make the time for you.”

It was in this moment, when she fully tasted that sweet, mouth watering emotion radiating off Mother’s body, that Pupa realized something: her mother was telling the truth. No tricks. No lies. Nochangeling could fake this.

The words tumbled over each other as she steeled herself for imminent rejection. Why should she expect forgiveness? “I can imagine you won’t want to see me for a long time, but all I hope is that you can forgive me one day. You don’t have to, and I perfectly understand if—”

Something pressed against her neck and she stopped talking. She looked down. Pupa had locked her stubby and uneven legs around her massive neck in an unprompted embrace.

Nochangeling said anything. Chrysalis, taken completely by surprise, looked dumbfounded to Cerci for some kind of hint as to what to do. The mare was surprisingly wearing a beaming smile and silently made cradling gestures to her.

Recognizing her error and mentally slapping herself, Chrysalis reciprocated her hatchling’s gesture with gusto, practically engulfing her this time in her bosom. Her most basic instincts kicked in and her viper-like tongue slithered out her mouth, tickling Pupa’s face with light, quick licks just like on that same stormy morning she hatched.

All the while, Cerci, holding her hooves over her mouth as her eyes turned misty with joy, witnessed this beautiful moment unfold from a safe few feet away. Their intimacy remained thankfully undisrupted by her presence.

Now the healing could begin.

Author's Note

... FINALLY.

And oh, dear sweet God, I mean FINALLY.

I cannot apologize enough for how long this chapter has taken me. It has been a BEAST. I'm afraid that is just how my creativity is: up and down, up and down. But hey, you know what? I'm actually glad this chapter has taken its sweet, sweet time, because at least that way I've made sure I've got it done right. After all, this is the chapter I'm sure many of you have been waiting for (that and now the longest): Pupa and Chrysalis' reunion. Hell, the whole story has been building up to this. I only pray I've done it right.

I would like to take this time to extend my thanks to my editor Chaodiurn for his thorough editing and Scarheart for his pre-reading. I could not have made it through this chapter without you guys' help.

Anyway, with this pinnacle chapter FINALLY finished, I shall now focus my attention on finishing this story before I reach the second year mark. I've only got one more chapter and a final epilogue-like chapter after that. That's right, everyling, this story is finally wrapping up.

As always, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter.

Chapter Fifteen

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Fifteen

Pupa was discharged from King Cocoon Hospital an hour after her mother arrived, following a brief consultation with Dr. Kemushi and the hospital staff in which they confirmed the Princess was fit enough to leave their care. They then promptly ordered the squadron of guards stationed around the hospital perimeter to escort the Queen, her daughter and her nanny back to the palace. At this announcement, everychangeling in the room saw Pupa grinning and her cheeks turning green. She knew she was going home and it brightened her heart.

Chrysalis first suggested simply teleporting themselves back into the citadel’s walls, but Cerci, along with most of the doctors, disagreed with the idea, fearing Pupa was in a too fragile state for magical transport. After some convincing, Chrysalis relented and they ended up taking one of her personal carriages instead, surrounded by the guards.

Cerci held Pupa in her legs for the whole journey, keeping her all nice and bundled up in a fresh pink cotton blanket, while the tiny changeling was already dozing off again, dipping her head into her carer’s chest as if it were a soft pillow. The Queen sat stoically opposite them, leaning forward to scratch behind her daughter’s ear.

Once they arrived inside the citadel, the group quietly entered the palace through one of the hidden entrances in the back.

However, they were quickly recognized and besieged upon by a swarm of excited maids, honing in on Cerci and their prized Princess. Cerci glared at them, bared her fangs and let out an intimidating hiss, cowing them back like an alpha mare would her herd. There was not a chance in Tartarus of her letting any of those opportunistic harpies get a hoof on her baby.

Chrysalis stepped in front of the nanny like a dark wraith, her wings flaring out as her eyes became cold and unforgiving before the mass of servants. Her wings buzzed with a terrible shivering sound, rattling ominously and warning them all to back down.

From behind her, she heard Pupa’s faint hissing voice. She fought back the urge to crack a small smile.

“Begone!” Chrysalis commanded, dismissing them with a snap of her jaw and they all scattered like a mass of cockroaches escaping the light. She then looked over her shoulder at Cerci, jerking her head in the direction of the hall. “Take her up to her room and put her to bed, Cerci. The guards will accompany you.”

Bowing her head, Cerci’s wings came alive and carried her buzzing down the hall with Pupa held up to her shoulder, the squadron following after them. Pupa’s and Chrysalis’ eyesights met one last time, and the mother tentatively waved her hoof goodbye. Too bad it was also caught sight by one of the guards, who grinned sheepishly beneath his helmet visor. The Queen felt herself break out in goosepimples in revulsion at the ideas she had just planted in that fool’s head. There was an extreme likelihood he would be off later to brag to his fellow guards about how their Queen made a pass at him.

“You there, wait behind.”

It was not that particular guard she halted and took aside but the leader of the group who had been catching her eye for a while now. This guard was a young, strongly-built mare, the kind she knew possessed a stunning face that was shamefully being hidden under her purple helmet.

She clicked her hooves, straightened her back and bowed to her monarch in the military fashion she practiced every morning in front of a mirror. “Your Majesty.”

“Lieutenant, see to it your changelings are stationed at my daughter’s door at all times,” Chrysalis commanded. “Only Cerci and I are to be allowed in, understood?”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“And while I have you, relay a message to Captain Beetle’s office.” She tapped the bottom of her lip, thinking through her words, similar to when she was ordering her secretaries to take a letter. “Tell him he is to come to my chamber first thing tomorrow. It’s matter of grave importance.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and one more thing before you go... ” She next did something that caught the young guard by surprise: the monarch took her by the chin and stared intently beyond the visor at her pretty azure eyes, “Tell me your name.”

Her stoic exterior starting to crack and appearing visibly uncomfortable, the guard answered uneasily, “S… Shatterback, my Queen?”

“Shatterback,” Chrysalis echoed quietly with an approving smile, reaching over and delicately wiping a tiny smudge off her helmet. “That’s a fitting name for a… tall, strong, up and coming member of the Royal Guard. I’ll have to remember that.” She chuckled at hearing the mare’s gulp and chose to end this torture session. “You’re dismissed, Lieutenant Shatterback.”

Shatterback hesitated for a second before she bowed and took her rather hurried leave, adjusting her helmet to conceal her bashful face.

When there was not a single changeling left within earshot, Chrysalis shook her head and broke out in a fit of laughter. It got them every time!

She wandered aimlessly around her grand estate in a state of reflection, apathetically taking in the sights she and her family took for granted. Time had emblazoned every room and corridor on her memory.

Chrysalis thought long and hard about what she was going to do next. She had spent an enormous amount of time and energy undoing the worst mistake of her live, and now her top priorities were unquestionably her resumption of her royal duties. Fair or not, Chrysalis still had to be a Queen first and a mother a close second; the cabinet needed their Queen like a flock of sheep needed their dog to guard and herd them.

But the looming reprimanding of Captain Beetle was one duty she did not look forward to. As loyal and refreshingly competent Beetle proved himself to be during his tenure as Captain of her Royal Guard, the Queen could not turn a blind eye to how a squad of Equestrian Guards easily marched their way into her daughter’s hospital room on his watch. That their intrusion was likely vital in helping save her life did not change that. She sincerely hoped for Beetle to have a proper explanation, if only a credible excuse. She hated the thought of possibly looking for some other oversized, bulked out changeling to fill his armour.

It got her thinking, however, about what this incident truly said about the state of affairs her once proud military was in. By all accounts, as far as she was aware, Beetle’s subordinates conducted themselves in the manner of what was expected of them, yet they were unable to stop a bloody bird that looked like an oversized firecracker from breaching their perimeter. If all those assembled guards could not do even that, it made Chrysalis wonder whether or not they might as well have stayed home.

That meeting with her generals now seemed so long ago when it was only days. Her Uncle’s ideas of military deduction were starting to look rosier when put into context. Either way, this troubling inefficiency needed to be dealt with. She could not hope to resume governing effectively with the present way the system worked.

This was going to have to be a principle she needed to enforce across the board if she wanted to take the military in the right direction, regardless if it may have resulted in some officers she liked being demoted or axed. Dependability, efficiency and competence of her country’s ‘finest’ had to be priority. In order for their kind to take their rightful front seat in this world, they needed to once again tap into their unlimited well of ability and skill as opposed to only titles and archaic hierarchy.

That good-looking dish Shatterback definitely looked like she had the makings for an important role in the future. She would have to keep a close eye on her and young guards and officers like her. But even when this unpleasantness was got under hoof, the next major issue to take priority for a very long time was a series of extensive political reforms.

A long, arduous and painstaking process lay ahead for the Changeling Queen; it was one thing to run one’s mouth off about the wonders of political reformation, another to draw up the blueprints and get things done. Her cabinet of ministers were unlikely to offer much if any resistance to their Queen, but Chrysalis was still at a stump as to what precisely was to change and how far she should go.

She did know one essential change would have to be delegating the royal prerogative to her more dependable politicians. Her stubborn pride and inability to trust them to do their jobs only made running her government all the more inefficient, so granting them greater responsibility and freedom was long overdue. It would also do well to take some unnecessary weight off her own shoulders, especially if she wanted to make good on her promise to Pupa to set more time aside for her.

A good first step, no doubt, but in all likelihood, these reforms were going to end up taking major steps further, and that would then require time-consuming committees and changelings with the testicular fortitude to offer their own opinion.

The distinct sound of fluttering wings brought her legs from autopilot to a standstill. She recognized she had wound up in the grand entrance of all places, and she stared searchingly up into the darkness.

Another fluttering. Chrysalis hoped those damned bats had not returned. She was certain the last of those disease-ridden flying vermin’s disgusting colonies had been expunged from her palace years ago.

A red flash shot across her field of vision, and she identified a large red and orange swooping down from the darkness. With grace and precision, it landed on the smooth wooden orb at the bottom of the grand staircase banister, holding its beak high and neatly folding its wings to its side.

Chrysalis reacted to the alien beast’s appearance from out of nowhere with an amused grin and proceeded toward it with some caution. She stopped a couple of feet away from the creature, choosing rather to admire its exotic beauty and vibrant colours that popped in the darkness of its surroundings.

The creature’s ownership was no wild guess.

“Hmm, you must be Celestia’s pretty little firebird.”

“She is a beautiful girl, isn’t she?”

Rolling her bulbous bug eyes, the Queen peered through her gossamer locks at the alicorn descending the staircase, her perfectly white coat illuminated against the dark backdrop just like her pet’s.

“What’ve you been up to?” Chrysalis asked indifferently, ignoring both her and her stern gaze.

“Doing some sightseeing around your quaint home.”

“How nice for you.” She held her hoof under Philomena’s beak, earning the phoenix’s curiosity and her little gold beads blinked. “I take it this is the animal to whom I owe my child’s life?”

“Basically.”

She nodded and began to stroke down the back of the bird’s tennis-ball-sized head and wings. It was like feeling through the inside of the finest, most expensive feathered pillow.

“Well, then you’ve been a very good pet…”

“Philomena,” filled in Celestia.

‘Now if that isn't yet another pretentious name...’ Chrysalis thought off-hoofedly, but brushed it off, slapping on a polite smile. “Wherever did you acquire such a magnificent beast?”

Celestia arrived at the bottom steps and joined in showering her pretty bird with praise and affection. The phoenix clearly reveled in it and craned her neck for the equines to pet her and puffed out her chest proudly.

“From an old mentor… and friend,” she replied, but she quickly brushed musings of old Starswirl aside in favor of the matters at hoof. She knitted her brow and fixed the Queen with an authoritative stare. “Chrysalis… we need to have another little talk.”

Her focus on petting and preening the phoenix broke, as did her elevated mood, and she huffed, “Hmm, somepony sounds like she’s got a stick stuck up her flank. I take it this can’t wait?”

“It really can’t.”

“If you insist,” she huffed, not having the will to tell her no. “But let’s go somewhere where we won’t be disturbed.”

“Any ideas?”

Chrysalis thought about it, and jerked her gnarled spire up the staircase. “... Come with me.” Philomena chirped and took off her perch and flew after her. She noticed and tutted, “And I suppose your little firebird may come along if she wants.”

“Would, um, some tea be possible?” Celestia asked, somewhat hopefully. “I always find it more pleasant to talk over some.”

“... What is it with you and tea?” She shook her head. “Gyokuro?”

“Please.”

She sighed exasperatedly, “I’ll see what I can do.”

The palace throne room, where royal court was held and possibly the most popular gathering place for changeling nobility. It was also here where the new kings and queens of the kingdom were crowned and their reigns began. Here, on the golden throne, Thorax and Chrysalis ascended to their destinies and one day Princess Pupa would also.

Mahogany pillars divided the conspicuously pukish-looking green walls adorned by the countless spoils of generations of war, from swords to the banners of fallen armies. A dark, velvet-green carpet with gold floral patterns stretched across the marble floor from the double doors, all the way up the steps where the Queen’s golden, elaborately crafted throne stood in dust.

Celestia needed to stop for a moment. It’s overtly Eastern design aside, a strange familiarity crawled up the princess’ spine as she walked through this immemorial hall for the changeling species. She could not pinpoint it precisely, but it was undoubtedly present.

“It’s… certainly been a long time since I last stood hoof in this place,” she remarked wistfully as she finished absorbing her grandiose surroundings. “I honestly didn’t think I would have again, at least not in this generation.”

“You’re probably not the only one…” Chrysalis shrugged as she climbed the steps onto the platform. After magically brushing away a bit of dust, she allowed herself to drop unceremoniously down onto the cushy seat of her golden throne. She stared down her muzzle at the Princess below her, though she was visibly struggling to make herself comfortable in her tight space; the throne certainly had not shrunken in the time she last sat on it.

Philomena perched herself on the foreleg rest and stood there perfectly still without so much as a flinch. The Queen was not offended by her presence. In fact, she thought it complimented her regal appearance.

“Don't become jealous, Celestia, but I think your beast is actually taking a liking to me.”

“My Philomena always has had an affectionate streak,” she remarked. “From what I’ve gathered, she really likes your daughter too.”

“Of course she would.” Chrysalis smirked proudly, holding a hoof over her chest. “Every creature thinks my filly is precious. I ought to give your pretty polly something...”

Out of thin air, the Queen conjured up a gold dish and lowered it onto her lap. It was filled to the top with what the Alicorn made out as lumps of charcoal and bits of kindling. The phoenix leaned toward the tribute hungrily, sniffing its earthy aroma before snatching a coal lump in her golden beak and gobbling it whole. She belched up a tiny flame and dived right back into the feast thereafter.

As the amusement of watching the fascinating creature gorging itself wore off, Chrysalis loosened her back muscles and melted into the padded backrest. She spoke just as languidly, “What is it you urgently need to discuss, Celestia? It better be important.”

Celestia’s eyes drifted over briefly to the doors only a gallop’s distance away before returning to her fellow monarch.

“Let’s wait till my tea gets here, shall we? First, I’d very much like to know; how did it go with Pupa?”

A pang of discomfort flashed across the changeling’s facial muscles. “... Not terrible,” she said flatly. “I’m sure you’ll respect my keeping of details private, but if you must know, I’ve already brought her back here to the palace.” She pointed up at the ceiling. “She’s up in her room right now. Napping.”

“That’s wonderful,” Celestia smiled, her face and mane perking up. “Because, as you surely know, I’d love the chance to meet the sweet thing before I return to Equestria, that is, pending your permission.”

Under any normal circumstances, Chrysalis would have sooner thrust her horn into this pony’s throat before she would let her get within twenty feet of her family. But in the period of the last twenty-four hours, such a request was the least Celestia could have asked for.

“We’ll see. And when will you be going home? Your ponies will start worrying that I’ve done something terrible to their beloved Princess. Again.”

She chuckled, “Most likely tonight, don’t you worry. I won’t be hounding you for much longer.”

“Well... maybe not ‘hounding’. I’d say more like ‘mildly bothersome’.”

They heard one of the doors opening. Their eyes turned to see a heavily stacked tea trolley being pushed out onto the carpet by a small, lemon coated pony who looked like far too small for the job.

“Wonderful.” Celestia eased the young mare’s struggle and magically wheeled the trolley forward to her side. She waited patiently while she allowed her to fill her a cup of that gyokuro green tea. “Thank you, dear, that’s the one.”

Ponies had an expression they liked to use, something about never having a camera with them at the most appropriate moment. If that were the case, then Celestia most definitely wished she had one in her position right now, because the look on Chrysalis’ face deserved to immortalized in photograph.

“Pardon me, but could you please tell us your name, dear?” she asked of the now very timid mare who was taking refuge behind the trolley, speaking to her in the tone of a warm, assuring teacher to a meek student. “If that is alright.”

“Um…” The poor mare sounded like somepony had their hooves clasped tightly around her throat. “M-My name is…” She cleared her throat. “My name is Lemon Tart, Your Majesty.”

“That’s right; such a nice name. Funnily enough, Chrysalis, I believe I had the pleasure of meeting her an hour ago, especially with Heavy Duty… and some other ponies I didn’t expect to find in your palace.” She took a smooth, practiced sip from her tea. “Hmm, this is nice. Would you like some, Chrysalis?”

The Queen’s shaking hooves gripped the foreleg rest like they were trying to pull apart the solid gold. As the gears in her head turned, her expression began to read that of a frightened animal, one that had just walked into the world’s easiest trap. A pulse throbbed hard along her long neck, threatening to violently burst open. Her beloved pills were beckoning her! She may have attempted to say something if not for her jaw going into lock.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

Chrysalis could only continue to bristle in silence with her eyes fixated on her lap, her voice still completely lost. How could she have made such an amatuer mistake? She was supposed to be the Queen of a race of shape shifting tricksters, yet it was Celestia who lured her straight into a trap like a duck to water. How could she have forgotten about the ponies?

The sheepish servant poked her head from behind the trolley. “Umm, s-should I… leave, Your Majesty?” Her stammer and shifting eyes suggested she was rather unsure which royal she was supposed to be talking to.

“You… have my permission to go.” Chrysalis felt herself physically deflate with each shaky breath she took.

Celestia’s demeanor remained unchanged. “Leave the tea, please, dear.”

While they waited for Lemon Tart to depart, desperately picking up the pace as if some supernatural power was waiting there to deliver her beyond the set of gilded double doors, Celestia herself was busy second guessing this little set-up of hers. She genuinely thought when the lucky opportunity arose back in the hallway, this would have been a more lighthearted, even funny means of beginning their negotiation. She was famous for her sense of humor and pranks, after all. In retrospect, it probably was not one of her more well thought-out ideas.

“How did you find out?” Chrysalis finally said, raising her voice so it travelled and reached Celestia’s ears.

“I was hungry.” She topped up her tea and sipped the fresh brew. “Call it chance.”

“So... so is this what you were really scheming all along—”

“Come now, Chrysalis, let’s please not go down that route,” she replied, frowning tiresomely and shaking her head. “Listen, your Uncle explained the situation to me back in the kitchen, and I am confident enough to take his word for truth. These ponies are criminal offenders who, without my knowledge, you’re essentially using as slave labour for your palace…” Her frown deepened. “And as a readily available snack for you and your family. Isn’t that right?”

Chrysalis stared, unmoving. Her eyes shifted wildly; she was weighing her options in the fleeting time she had left to respond. She could not try to deny it; the cat was already out of the bag and yowling and denying it would only make it worse than it already was. After everything she had achieved, how much of her life she managed to salvage and the shocking progress she made with her worst enemy, now it all hung on a tightwire.

Celestia now had her by the throat. She gave her filly the phoenix tears that saved her, and as far-fetched as it may have sounded… who was to say she could not take them back if she wanted? It was a chance she simply could not afford to take.

Her fangs digged uncomfortably into her skin as she kept her head bowed in shame.“They are not slaves,” she mumbled.

“Then let’s call it ‘indentured servitude’, something we have in Equestria actually…”

“And you’ve brought me here to list your demands.”

“Demands?” Celestia’s head lapsed the side, sounding quite sincere in her ignorance.

This mocking display of naivety lit a fire in the Changeling Queen’s belly. A sudden anger overtook her, and she banged the golden rest with enough force it may have left a dent, making a frightened Philomena squawk and nearly tipping over her dish of coal treats. Chrysalis, remembering the creature’s existence, patted her on the back to calm the bird down. The act proved mildly therapeutic for the changeling and her blood pressure eased.

“Oh, but of course that’s what you’re after,” she growled lowly, her eyes narrowed and baring her fangs; the effect might have been intimidating if the Alicorn possessed even the slightest inkling of fear of her, which she did not. “Don’t beat me around the bush, Celestia. You want me to release all your precious, can-do-no-wrong little ponies immediately or face the consequences, do you not?” The anger rose in her chest again and she added with an extra venomous hiss, “So they can frolic back with you to Equestria, isn’t that right?!”

While the Queen went about her little rant, Celestia only observed her vexation with a placid, perfectly straight face.

“I don’t demand, Chrysalis, I prefer to negotiate,” She spoke evenly at first, but pressed on assertively just as Chrysalis was about to run her mouth off again, “And if you’d listen with your ears instead of your mouth for once, you’d be surprised to know I’ve actually met up with the ponies themselves, and they told me all about their crimes and their experiences under your care.”

“No doubt they sugar-coated their ‘harrowing ordeals’ to their beloved Princess.”

“Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t, but I’m intelligent enough to recognize they’re not blameless victims here. There’s a strong part of me that wants to see them freed, but as much as I care about my subjects…” she closed her eyes and sighed gently, “I couldn’t justify whitewashing their crimes and demanding their freedom on such flimsy grounds.”

While she was listening to her and the sounds of Philomena absentmindedly shoveling and crunching coal in her beak, Chrysalis levitated a spare cup from the trolley and poured her own tea. She stirred it with the elegance and precision earned from a fillyhood of etiquette training by strict, draconian nannies, and then drained half its piping hot contents to hide her growing smirk.

After having to stomach endless tripe about the infallible, beautiful and universally adored Sun Princess of Equestria her whole life, be able to absorb her humble admission about her own subjects filled Chrysalis with immense feeling of cathartic satisfaction.

“It isn’t nice to learn your ponies aren’t the sweet and innocent angels you thought they were, is it? Oh well…” She set her tea aside to remain untouched and continued, “You wish to negotiate? Fair enough, I’ll play your game. What, dare I ask, do you seek?”

The snide remark pearled off Celestia’s white coat like rainwater against a lotus flower’s leaf, and she took relief in that they now had the opening for negotiation she sought.

“As you can imagine, I can’t return to Equestria without knowing for certain that these ponies’ rights and dignity are being respected. And that includes the right not to be trussed up like a turkey for you to drain for your breakfast!” She added the latter sentence in a conspicuously clipped tone, a flash of pique permeating her otherwise collected manner.

“Oh, come now, we’re changelings, Celestia. Devouring love is kind of what we do. And besides, we only do that to the worst—”

“Regardless, prisoners are still entitled to their rights, a convention I believe your ancestors signed up to and to which, therefore, you are also bound,” she pointed out, paraphrasing her versed knowledge in international politics and law. If there was anypony who served as a walking encyclopedia on such matters, next to Princess Twilight Sparkle, it was Celestia thanks to her centuries of first-hoof experience. “I only ask for assurance that my ponies are being treated with the same fairness and decency you’d expect from me if the situation were reversed.”

Chrysalis sneered, resting her chin on her hoof, “I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised that you couldn’t take me for my word alone.”

“Given our history, I think you can hardly blame me.”

“Then what would you propose if you’re so worried?”

Now came the truly difficult part. “With your permission, I was thinking…” Celestia curled her lips upon noticing her tea growing cold and her jaw worked silently as she searched for the appropriate words, before going on more apprehensively, “Maybe we can establish a communication of sorts between our capitals. I could possibly assign a small team of intelligence ponies here in your citadel with the task of monitoring and reporting on the status of the pony servants.”

Chrysalis reacted all too expectedly. “You mean your underlings on my soil? In my palace?! Out of the question!” she snapped, sounding downright insulted and even looking ready to jump up of her throne. “What do you possibly imagine to come out of such a ludicrous notion? You would trust sending your “intelligence” ponies to my palace when they proved themselves all but useless in the wake of my invasion of Canterlot?!”

“If that’s what you are so concerned about, I can assure you the standards and training of our intelligence service have mostly improved since your incursion,” Celestia rebuked crossly, albeit both looking and sounding a bit struck by her cutting remarks. “You would have little to worry about their competence, Chrysalis.”

She did not seem swayed in the slightest. “Oh ho, I’m sure…”

“Well, regardless what you think of my serviceponies’ abilities, surely you must see it as a much more beneficial alternative to you than just freeing the prisoners here.”

“Ah, but that’s not the only issue, Celestia,” she harumphed, crossing her forelegs. “Permitting those imbeciles to enter my realm would be bad enough, but I couldn’t possibly just allow what would be a catastrophic surrender of dignity of the throne!”

“And why is that?”

Chrysalis held her muzzle high with contempt, directing not only towards herself. “I am already about to enter murky waters with the future of my leadership and my army,” she explained bitterly. “If I were to do this, I would lose the respect of my family and peers. I may be the “Living Kami” to my average subject, but that will not always carry fiat with those at the top and who hold our country’s traditions most dear to their hearts.” She returned her glower down directly at Celestia. “And, if I’m being perfectly honest, I don’t feel entirely comfortable being in a situation where, while you can relax in your comfortable position, I’m the one who must place all trust in you.”

“Which I guess you don’t...” She inhaled harshly and fought against the pulse in her temple.

“Chrysalis, tell me, what have I done since arriving here that suggests I am not acting within both our interests?”

“I won’t ever forget what happened here, and my family is indebted to you, but whether or not you and I can trust each other now, you should well know that doesn’t mean you can trust my people... and nor can they you,” Chrysalis said with a strong hint of regret, of what precisely the Celestia was not entirely certain. “It is not as if I can tell my subjects who rescued their Princess from death, can I?” She took Philomena under her leg and allowed her to nestle on and warm her lap, tenderly stroking her on the back as the bird still stuffed herself autonomously. “The cold truth is I don’t think we’ll ever be able to bury this old hatchet of ours. There’s too much hurt and pain between us for that.”

“But we are at a far different place than we were before, that must mean something. Look, what if…” Celestia rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Okay, what if I offered you something in exchange for you permitting my intelligence ponies into your palace? An insurance, if you will.”

Chrysalis shifted a leg that had grown sleepy, and she and Philomena exchanged an awkward glance, as if the two were making a secret acknowledgement. Her focus returned to the Alicorn. “Even if there was a miniscule chance of me bending on this, I doubt there’s anything you could offer me or my people.”

A sly gleaming could be seen in her magenta orbs and she trailed the cool tip of her slippered hoof along her bottom lip. “I’d be inclined to agree with you if not for that famine poised to strike in the south. Hmm?” She suddenly felt a desire for a second cup of that wonder tea and multitasked in pouring herself one and tenting her hooves while saying, “I’m thinking, what if our nations came to a mutual agreement? One to help relieve some of the suffering—”

“We do not take hoofouts, Princess,” Chrysalis was quick to point out. “We’re not some squallored zebra or wildebeest country who will throw ourselves at your hooves begging to become your debt slaves. We have too much self-respect.”

Celestia gave only the most princess like roll of her head and tutted, almost openly scoffing at the idea, “Oh, I have no intention of simply tossing aid at you, let me assure you. What I’m talking about is the possibility of us opening trade between our nations.”

Now Chrysalis’ fang dug so deep it pierced her skin, drawing a negligible amount of blood, as if she were checking to see if she was in some sort of bizarre dream. It honestly would not have shocked the Changeling Queen if it was and that Celestia was nowhere near her castle and Pupa was still wired-up in hospital.

Wearily she puffed out her cheeks. “Now I know you’re mocking me, Celestia, because I know for a fact your ponies would never comply with trading with us.” She heard Philomena cawing for attention and refilled her bowl, carlingly toying with her plume. “Especially none of your all-important toads in Canterlot.”

“Ohh, I don’t know about that; I’ve worked miracles with my subjects before,” said the Princess, a tad unintentionally condescending than she intended as she waved her hoof demonstratively. “If you recall, I got them to accept the inclusion of two more alicorn princesses pretty easily, and there are now thousands of your changelings moving to Equestria to start new lives there. And I’m sure, with correct tact and persuasion, my parliament will warm up to the idea of a trade agreement.”

Chrysalis still did not look at all convinced, as reflected by the way she regarded her with her glazed, unimpressed bug eyes. “Okay. So you’re going to talk with all your biggest plot kissers and get them to basically brush aside years of bad blood and start doing business with us,” she said, “Many of your ponies still want me tried for war crimes, you know that, right?”

“Think about it: when push comes to shove, what do you truly think matters to all my nobility and businessmares above all?” When Chrysalis only shrugged uncaringly, she shot her an arched brow and a wry grin. “They care most about their money. I’ve no doubt many ponies still hold bitter feelings about the invasion, but as far as my more powerful subjects are concerned, well…” She did not restrain herself from a weak, self-deprecating laugh. “You’d be surprised how their rhetoric softens once they realize an opportunity to make a lot more money, especially with your large, expendable workforce of changelings.”

Though she did well not to let it show, Chrysalis’ intrigue was growing. Celestia’s argument was not without merit: money made the world go round, transcending most feuds and ideological conflict; she knew that well.

Equestria and the Griffin Empire were first to come to mind as a relevant example. The historical ties between the two superpowers were long and complex, including many wars and alliances at various points in history. Since those turbulent times, the nations had become each other’s biggest trading partners while simultaneously forming the largest trade relationship in the world. They gained so much more out of scratching each other’s backs then banging each other’s heads in.

Now say Celestia organized her top political lapdogs and PR ponies and got them to explain to her teat sucklers the benefits of investing in the Changeling Kingdom. Chrysalis had a firm enough grasp on the economic reality to know the best benefits her country could reap from such a deal would be stagnation, which was a far better alternative to perpetual decline. The looming southern famine, unavoidable at this point, was presently projected to claim the lives of up to two million changeling peasants by starvation. But if Equestria’s precious resources were to start streaming into the country many of these needless deaths and a national catastrophic could be prevented.

“And all it would require on your part is allowing me to keep tabs on only a hundred and fifty ponies,” Celestia said. “I can’t force you to agree, but I hope that you will consider it.”

The Queen fixed her with a cool, calculating stare, but an actual response, even just another snide remark, appeared totally lost on her. She appeared to be thinking and thinking hard on all they had been discussing.

“So do I have your attention?”

“I can’t say I’m unmoved at the idea of millions of hatchlings actually going to bed with their bellies full,” Chrysalis replied, keeping her face straight enough that it was hard for the Princess to read. “I do have a question, though, if you don’t mind: are there any changelings currently working in your castle, under what you call this “indentured servitude”, by any chance?”

“There are a few, none in indentured servitude, mostly doing cleaning and cooking,” she answered cautiously. Celestia was embellishing that a bit; yes, there were relegated the more menial jobs in her castle, but there were more than just a few of them. They had proved themselves to be diligent, hard workers and a fine addition to the castle staff. Still, she had a fairly good idea what the follow up question was going to be.

“In that case, I think a small delegation of my own checking on their status would be fair, don’t you agree?”

“We could… work something out.” She saw no real harm in going along with her request, since it did offer an equilibrium at least and, by the sound of it, further warm the Queen up to the deal. “Of course, both sides would then need to be kept under the same regulations to ensure they only monitor the staff.”

“That is reassuring,” Chrysalis spoke smoothly, seemingly satisfied in her victory of this additional condition, but maintained her serious disposition. “But don’t start thinking I’m going to just start making you any on-the-spot promises.”

“I know you can’t, but the most important thing is it’s on table, no?”

She breathed a conceding sigh, “Yes.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” Her eyes passed over to the bird still off in her own little world on the Queen’s lap, scraping at the bottom of the dish and pushing her gag reflex to its limit. She gave her a little whistle, “Philomena! Come here, pretty girl!”

Poor Philomena looked so full that her belly kept her skinny peg legs from standing herself up, but Chrysalis was there to kindly pick her up with her magic and give her an encouraging pet on the head. The phoenix then forced her wings to flap against her bloated discomfort and she flew haphazardly back to her owner, who smiled sympathetically and took her and carefully set her up on the back of her withers, giving her a gentle nuzzle too.

“I thank you immensely for your audience, Your Majesty,” Celestia dipped her head in an ever respectful bow.

Remaining stone-face, Chrysalis took the show of respect at face value and nodded, saying, “It has been… enlightening.”

As the pair of the most powerful mares on the planet were about to part ways, the Equestrian diarch had just one more thing she felt the need to say in their privacy.

She did not get the opportunity though, as Chrysalis’ sensitive changeling ears twitched at the sound of hooves thudding against metal. She looked around in search of its source, which she detected as being only a stone’s throw away, right behind the ornate entrance.

“What is it?” asked Celestia concerned.

A quiet growl emanated from her throat and Chrysalis stood up, albeit with some struggle, from her throne. She regained her dignified posture, repositioning the strands of hair from her eyes and waiting for her breath to normalize before descending the short steps and marching in the direction of the double doors. She gave a silent gesture to the Princess to set her tea back on the abandoned trolley and follow her.

Upon reaching the other end of the room, Chrysalis’ horn glowed and took control of the left door handle. She held her hoof to her lips and shushed her counterpart, waiting a few beats before twisting the handle and yanking the door open.

A small group of five changelings piled onto the floor in a clownish heap. Chrysalis identified them all as young, lumpish politicians, who had been pressing their ears up against the golden doors all this time, listening in on her and Celestia’s conversation.

She looked up and spotted her uncle standing over the sorry sight, shaking his head wearily and grumbling.

“Out.” She uttered the one syllable with a voice so full of ice the only things the clique left behind were trails of their own molted fur and skin on the carpet.

“You’d think they’d be smart enough to know to bug a room,” Celestia tutted, her mind going back to her own ladder climbers back home. The ones here had to be real freshmares.

“I’m sorry for that, Niece,” said Prince Pincer, bowing to her. He saw the alicorn bringing up the rear and his tone shifted. “Have you and Princess Celestia managed to…”

“More or less.” Chrysalis held up a hoof to put the conversation on hold as her somewhat uneasy eyes returned to her rival. “Princess, do you think you can grant us a moment, please?”

Instead of doing the expected thing and being shocked to hear Chrysalis courteously asking her something—Twilight’s jaw would have dropped so far it would crack the floor had she borne witness to the exchange—Celestia only retained her serene expression.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“If you’d like, perhaps you can head up to my daughter’s room,” she offered as Celestia was about to take her leave with Philomena in tow. “I’m sure she’d be over the moon to meet you, as well as seeing sweet little Philomena again.”

Now it was Pincer whose jaw looked ready to drop off. Even Celestia herself did not appear entirely prepared for that.

“Really?” both asked simultaneously.

“And why not? I recall you expressing a great interest in meeting my hatchling face-to-face not too long ago. It’s only right, given she’d not be with us if not for your intervention.”

Bowing her head in respect, Celestia replied, “In that case, I’d be honored.” She rubbed her cheek against her darling firebird’s. “Would you like that, sweetie? Hmm? You wanna go and see Pupa again?” The overfed creature poorly nuzzled her mistress back, who gave her a wet, tender kiss square on the beak in return. “Okay. Let’s go, my pretty girl.”

“Do you need to be shown the way?” Chrysalis swallowed her own vomit induced by the display of tooth-rotting sentimentality. She actually treated the creature as if she pushed it out of her womb as a chick; it got her to wondering if this was what happened to any being like Celestia who lived for so long without having children of their own.

“No no, we’ll manage. I’ve visited this palace in the past several times.” Her leg dithered in midair just as she began her canter down the hall. She rolled her head back over her shoulder and asked, “Her room, it’s the same one you had, right? Back when you were only a tubby little hatchling yourself?”

Chrysalis’ left eyebrow twitched. “Yes.” Her admission was less than enthusiastic.

She beamed one last innocent smile and disappeared into the perpetual darkness of the dimly lit hallways, her phoenix giving off one last reverberating caw as the alicorn’s hoofsteps crunching against the carpet completely fading.

Only when she was dead sure she was out of earshot, and waiting for a good additional while, Chrysalis took her uncle aside, hiding behind a remarkably uninteresting vase upon a pedestal.

“I’m quite sure super hearing isn’t one of her many abilities,” he spoke quietly with the understanding that she desired to keep their conversation as private as possible.

She gave one last paranoid look over her shoulder. “Uncle, listen… I know this is going to sound absurd, but…” she whispered, unable to mask her stupefaction. “I think the tide has turned with the white witch.”

“I know.”

“What?”

“I heard what you were talking about, I was listening in as well,” Pincer only waved his hoof dismissively at her glare. “What else do you think I was doing out here? Dusting off cob webs? I spotted meddlesome eavesdroppers huddling after that pony with the tea and, well, let’s just say my curiosity got the better of me. But that’s beside the point, Chrysalis, this right here, this is a game-changer!”

But the Queen did not look to share this enthusiasm. “I know it is… but can we trust her enough to deliver her end of the deal?”

“She is Princess Celestia,” he reasoned. “In her defence, she has one of the cleanest records there is. Don’t forget that we have something she needs too.”

He made a perfectly valid point there. One of Celestia’s strengths, as well as one of her weaknesses besides her overconfidence in her subordinates, was that she go to whatever links to protect the interests of her subjects. On hoof, this was good; it made her more malleable to their own needs. But on the other, more sinister hoof which worried Chrysalis the most, how far exactly would the all-powerful alicorn princess be willing to go to ensure her little ponies were safe?

She grimaced, “There’ll be a catch, there always is. She won’t just settle for keeping tabs on a bunch of noponies. She’ll try and weasel in something else, I’m sure of it.”

“Does that surprise you? Of course there will.” The old officer pressed his face close to his niece, glancing beyond her for a moment at the corner Celestia had passed through. He then went on to say, cautiously optimistic, “Even Celestia isn’t above that. But the most important thing here is to keep this window of opportunity open. We can’t afford to lose it, not with the lives of so many of your subjects at stake.”

“Then it’s Celestia who has us by the horn on this matter.” Chrysalis could not help but follow his eyes with a flick of her head. Her voice carried an amalgamation of desperate hope and fear she would never dare vent upon anychangeling but her uncle, her trusted confidant. “Then for our people’s sake, I guess, the best thing to do is go along with it. At least for the time being.”

“I don’t think there’s a lot else we can do.”

They emerged from behind the pedestal, their course of action clear and secure in that they were not being spied on by Celestia or other bothersome changelings. Chrysalis neatly brushed down her mane and any dust that had accumulated in these hallways before readdressing Pincer once more.

“Now you realize this information must remain strictly confidential.” There was a darker, colder glint in her eye as she told him this. “Those… other little upstarts spying on us, they overheard too much. I think you know what I want done about them.”

The seasoned Gensui straightened himself in the military manner he was accustomed to, his face one of grim determination. “I shall see to it, my niece.” He was about to bow to her, but stared up at her quizzically. “You are referring to the memory spell, right?”

“Y… yes, Uncle,” she blinked and shook her head slowly in her hoof like a metronome. “The same one we use on the ponies once they finish their sentence, yes. What did you think I was talking about?”

Pincer blushed slightly with the bashfulness of a young changeling who had embarrassed himself in front of his commanding officer. “Well, heh heh, I’ll just say we’ve avoided a most unfortunate misunderstanding. But before I go attend to that business, there’s one more thing…” He recomposed himself and held out his hoof, and Chrysalis stared at it as if she were expected to take it.

A bright flash occurred wholly in the confines of his hoof, going by so fast and blindingly bright it might have triggered a seizure in more sensitive eyes. Chrysalis’ mouth opened in a mute gasp; he held in hoof a small black crown with four blue-jewelled prongs sticking out the top. Her crown.

“Your sister wanted me to return this back to you.”

Chrysalis took her crown in her magic and delicately, gracefully raised it and set it atop of her head where it felt so naturally at home. She now truly looked like a Queen again. And to think only the other day she was upset enough she merely threw it away at her sister in her irrational grief.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“Just promise me one thing, Chrysalis?” he began his laboured trek down the hallway, old age and signs of rheumatism evident in his walk. “Don’t let it slip from you again.”

“I won’t, Uncle. That I can promise you.” Chrysalis’ legs stayed soldered to the dents in the expensive carpet, her eyes fixed upon some distant, unseen point of the horizon. Any lingering thoughts of abdicating her throne were now an obscure memory. “None of this will ever happen again.”

“You are the cutest little thing, aren’t you?”

The Alicorn Princess curled up into the bed, her haunches to sink into the soft mattress, cradling her wriggling changeling counterpart with the care and expertise of a doting mother. She bounced Pupa up and down, making funny faces and foal noises, and in return listened to her foalish giggling with the most motherly of smiles. A child’s pure, innocent laughter like hers could melt even the iciest hearts.

Celestia adored children, more than she loved scoffing expensive cakes. They were such small things, so tender and fragile. They had those pudgy, pinchable cheeks and stubby little hooves always reaching out to grab whatever was in front of them. On multiple occasions she even took the time for her castle servants’ own foals, she loved being around them and holding them that much.

Now she held a changeling filly in her forelegs, a princess and the offspring of one of her worst enemies no less, and it was no less tender an experience. The moment she laid eyes on little Pupa, she felt her heart swell and overcome with the desire to take her and gobble her up. She was just so adorable.

The sight of her in all those bandages and the patchwork of bruises on her fur was enough to sink the alicorn’s heart. Seeing any child so banged up was upsetting for any regular pony, but on the plus side, she did look miles better than her previous state in the hospital with colour having returned to her skin and an upbeat smile that lifted Celestia’s spirits as well.

It did take Celestia by surprise though how—how could she put it gently?—hefty Pupa turned out to be. She encountered little porkers like her before, but this had to be the first time she remembered straining to pick a filly up.

The child’s nanny was fast asleep in a dignified loafing position beside the bed, with her legs folded neatly underneath her body and her chin tucked into her chest. A hatchling’s crib stood half-built in the bedroom corner, blueprints, bolts and planks laying scattered on the carpet. When Celestia arrived at the bedroom, she decided to spare the already frazzled mare of the shock, so she performed a little charm that encouraged Cerci to lay down for a good, long sleep. The poor dear looked like she direly needed a rest.

Pupa herself was having a whale of a time as she shrieked and writhed in her unending fit of laughter. She never met a pony so up close before, nor did she ever imagine one as big as her mother and with both wings and a horn. She had no idea who this pony was or why she played with her, but she was without doubt the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Her alabaster coat, softer and plusher than any of her toys or changeling fur, radiated with the warmth of the sunlight shining through the palace windows. Her swan-like wings elegant yet powerful, shimmering even in the muted light of her bedroom.

But best of all, Pupa really, really liked her mane! Never before had she seen one like it, a spectrum of colours flowing around her like in the cosmic depths of space. She reached out to the mare, desperate to feel the otherworldly hair for herself and rub it against her face.

Her fixation on it was enough to distract her from her hunger brought about by the immense love radiating off the pony like the rays of the sun itself, though even then Celestia had nothing to worry about; she had no idea how to suckle love for herself.

Celestia saw her wonderment and, deciding to indulge her some more, laid her head against the warmth of her bosom and cradled the rest of her fragile body in one of her strong, muscular legs, using her free hoof to trail a circle along her pot belly. She lowered a thick lock of her mane in front of the tyke’s face, close enough for her to grab it greedily for herself.

Wincing from the tingling pain in her scalp, she grinned through it and watched as the ecstatic Pupa smothered her face against her ethereal mane, totally enthralled in its beauty, its stunningly smooth texture, and its foreign, untraceable scent; the closest the filly’s mind could compare it to was a new, exotic fruit. She was sorely tempted to taste it too.

“Let’s see if we can peg you, little one,” Celestia crooned, looking her over with a doting eye. “Hmm, well, you’re a sugar-coated cutie pie, no question about that.” She saw the glistening of saliva leaking from her lips. “You’re also clearly a dribbler.” Her eyes fell on her perfectly round and protruding poundage. “Oh, and you’re definitely a little pudding piler, aren’t you?” Celestia then gave her belly a prod, earning a giggle or two out of her. “Ohh, and it looks like somepony’s quite ticklish as well…”

Pupa only caught a glimpse of the pony’s mischievous, gleeful smile when she hoisted her up and blew one powerful raspberry in the dead centre of her tummy tum. Pupa threw her head back and howled with laughter, able only to wiggle about helplessly in Celestia’s hug like a plate of plentiful jello.

Celestia only continued her merciless assault, darting her muzzle in again and again. The filly’s giggling also proved contagious as it left her breathless from her own laughter by the time her cheeks became too sore.

“Well, I’m sold,” she wiped a single tear from her eye and choked on another chuckle. Pupa too was rendered an awoken baby sloth from the bouncing ball of energy she was just previously. “I officially want to wrap you up and take you home with me. Like a big piece of strawberry fudge!” She gazed down towards the foot of the bed. “Philomena, sweetheart, come up here, won’t you?”

Philomena really did not want to shift from her snug spot on the fluffy mattress, which was providing a lot of relief for her painful bloatedness. She tucked her head and curled up into a petulant feathery red ball, prompting a tutting Celestia to teleport her right into her free leg. Now she held them both like a pair of newborn twins

“Sweetheart, this is Philomena,” she said to Pupa, bringing them closer together. “She’s the one who helped you.”

The child’s eyes sparkled and her mouth gawped in her childlike fascination at seeing what she first thought was an exceptionally well-made and pretty plushie. One might then imagine her surprise when the creature stuck her neck out and rubbed the end of her banana beak against her muzzle.

“She’s a phoenix, Pupa, a really rare kind of bird. Her tears are what made you feel better.”

Pupa continued to stare in amazement at Philomena, initially not knowing what to do or how to react. She had never been this up close to a living animal before beside the caged ones in her mother’s menagerie, so a degree of apprehension was to be expected. But the creature only reiterated her gesture of goodwill, this time rubbing her head under her chin, and the smaller Princess was soon enough won over.

“Give her a hug,” Celestia prompted. “It’s okay. She won’t mind.”

Driven by the desire to smother herself in the cushion of wonderful feathers, Pupa held her legs out to Philomena, inviting her into a hug. So Philomena clambered out of her mistresses’ hold and toward her cautiously, only to squawk as she was immediately ensnared by in Pupa’s small but strong legs in an absolute snuggleanche of a hug.

At first, Philomena felt indignant and uncomfortable—even Celestia was giggling at her undignified situation—but soon found herself in a more comfortable position in Pupa’s easing embrace, settling her head in that warm gap between her shoulder and neck.

Now the Sun Princess really wished she had a camera. She wanted so much to immortalize this precious image of her and Chrysalis’ baby wrapped in a loving embrace in her forelegs forever. Her photographic memory would have to suffice.

Pupa yawned and hugged Philomena tighter like her own security blanket; the bird radiated an constant pleasant warmth that made her never want to let go. She needed more sleep; Celestia faintly remembered one of the doctors talking about how it was important for her getting better.

Climbing carefully out of bed, Celestia proceeded to tuck both Pupa and Philomena under the cover, treating them with the same tender love and care she would her own young.

“I guess I can leave the two of you alone for a little while,” she thought aloud as she stroked her hoof up and down the side of the child’s head. Philomena had already closed her eyes and dropped off, her body acting like a natural hot water bottle for Pupa.

After a passage time in which Celestia remained standing over her bedside, still stroking her head, she reached down and gave the half-asleep Princess and her pet a light goodnight kiss.

“Have sweet dreams, little one,” she whispered, her voice tickling her ear. “It’s been my pleasure meeting you.” She pecked her on the cheek again. “And I know we’ll see more of each other in the future.”

A tranquil glow emitted from her horn and at last Pupa felt her dreams take hold.

Celestia then left the room as silently and discreetly as she had entered. She looked back one more time at the slumbering Pupa with her phoenix curled up with her, a look of complete peace on her laxed face. No worries. No fears. No anxieties whatsoever.

The Changeling Kingdom’s most cherished and prized daughter was back home where she belonged, safe and sound.

Celestia had only one last musing while she doused the already dimmed lights off and steadily closed the door behind her.

‘Well, what do you know? In the end it seems we are all capable of talking, pony or changeling.’

Author's Note

(A/N) Hey, everyone, I'm glad to present you with the penultimate chapter of Maternal Instinct, completed with the dedicated help with my editor, Chaodiurn, and my good friend, Scarheart. Folks, I seriously can't believe this fanfic is nearly done and I'm on the home stretch. The final/epilogue chapter I'll be getting straight to work on and you can expect to see soon.

If I don't by the end of this year, I prematurely wish you all a Merry Christmas (if you celebrate it) and a Happy New Year.

Chapter Sixteen

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Sixteen

The months following ‘the incident’ passed on swift and busy hooves. The Sun Princess returned to her homeland with her miracle bird as promised the morning after her encounter with Princess Pupa, leaving behind her best wishes, the foundations for a brighter future and a family who could now heal in peace.

Queen Chrysalis had resumed her neglected duties the day following Princess Celestia’s departure, starting with a meeting with her cabinet of ministers. The cabinet was understandably relieved, not only by news of Princess Pupa’s safety and their Queen’s return, but more out of an assumed end to the uncertainty that had disrupted their otherwise comfortable and ordered world.

However, they were to find this was ultimately not to be the case, for shortly thereafter, the Queen unexpectedly made an official royal announcement regarding the government policy that would go down as one of the most important in the history books. In her throne room, before an audience of politicians, nobles and the international press, Chrysalis declared the launch of a brand new policy of modernization, specifically designed to “secure both the future of her people and the military’s ability to function in the modern world, not for us but for future generations.”

The unprecedented announcement sent shockwaves across the kingdom to the lands overseas. The international reaction was overwhelmingly positive with most nations, despite their skepticism, seeing a modernized, less belligerent Changeling Kingdom as one they could better work with. The conspiracy theorists did their job of course, the most popular being that the Changeling Queen had in fact been supplanted by another changeling all as part of a coup.

As anticipated, the reaction at home was less jubilant. Not too many of the changeling crème de la crème were particularly warm to the news, especially those changelings unsettled by the likelihood of Prince Pincer’s ideas of contracting their miltiary’s numbers now becoming a reality. Some details such as the possible trade deal with Equestria were even kept strictly under wraps. But despite their discontent, there was little the dissident minority could actually do, less they wished to risk their reputation and careers and even their lives for coming out against their monarch, the fate of General Antenaka still fresh in their minds. Chrysalis herself made it clear to her cabinet that those who irreconcilably disagreed were free to tender their resignations, and while some did, the others were effortlessly browbeaten and bowed their heads.

The ‘Lawful Revolution’, as media and later historians would baptise it, was free to steamroll ahead unimpeded and Chrysalis naturally lapped up the national and international praise being heaped upon her. The euphoria faded soon enough when the reality set in that a lot of time and money were going to be needed to get this project rolling and off the ground. The whole thing came to dominate Chrysalis’ work schedule indefinitely as a result.

It made an easy trap for the Queen to fall back into overworking herself to the breaking point, but she quickly proved to have taken the experience to heart. Therefore, whilst she unquestionably stayed leader of this new modernization doctrine and assumed all key leading roles, her new doctor’s orders ruled out anything that would tax heavily on her health.

As part of her new personal health plan, among others things, Chrysalis’ weekly working hours were restricted to allow more time for hobbies, diet and exercise and, most of all, spending more time with her family. A considerable amount of time had to be put aside, especially for her sessions; after giving Celestia’s suggestion some consideration, Chrysalis reluctantly decided to try seeing a therapist concerning her problems. Her opinions on therapy remained largely unchanged, but she was lucky to have found a mare willing to put on with her stubborn attitude. Given how they were now seven sessions in, she thought it was going better than expected.

Chrysalis’ physical health also took a turn for the better as time carried on. A new exercise and diet regimen helped to trim away at all that excess flesh she had gained over these recent years. She felt good getting herself fit and strong again. She felt good and she was starting to look good too. After a few solid months of steady exercise and dieting, her bloated, rounded stomach and the set of thick, heavy curves that were her haunches sizzled away and tightened. Her figure once more began to resemble the tapered, slender look she was famous for beyond the citadel walls.

Her medication was her biggest hurdle to overcome. She had been taken off her precious red pills shortly after her daughter was discharged from hospital, being replaced by lower dosages of milder drugs which her doctor felt more ethical in supplying her. They mostly did the trick in weaning her off the devil pills, even if she did feel the overwhelming urge now and then. But they were nothing in the face of her family’s ire upon being informed of her secret dependency. Chrysalis thought she had seen it all, that she had seen the worst of the worst, but nothing could compare to the livid and long lecture Pincer gave her. She had no leg to stand on.

All the while, safe outside of the whirlwinds of politics and grownups’ problems, Princess Pupa went on to make an expected full recovery.

The tiny royal was confined to her chamber for some time, tended by Cerci around the clock, who nursed her back to full health on a diet of hugs, kisses and love soup. By the time her bandages came off and she was allowed to crawl on the floor like she used to, the jubilant palace held a feast in her honour over her “return”, to which she was too young to be allowed to even attend.

A lot of things changed in Pupa’s idle little world from then on, and it did not go unnoticed by the filly. It went beyond her being pampered and coddled more than she already was. For example, she now slept in her old crib again, complete with her buggy mobile that played her favourite songs. It was just like when she was a hatchling, and the best part was they granted her more naps and lay-ins, not forcing her to get up from her cosy slumbers if she did not desire to, even if it was for something important. Also, and perhaps the most surprising, she found herself now spending a lot more time with both Cerci and her mother.

True to her word, Cerci no longer let Pupa out of her sight; wherever the Princess went, her nanny was always by her side, playing with her, speaking on her behalf, and guarding her with the ferocity of a mama tiger. They and Chrysalis now met up twice a week for tea, sometimes in one of the palace sitting rooms, sometimes in the tea houses in the garden. They were awkward small occasions, where they sat together mostly in silence while Pupa noisily stuffed her face with sweets and cakes.

Pupa should have been so happy. Her nightmare was over and she was back to her lifestyle of indolence and play. Best of all, she got to spend time with her mother, something she had yearned for ages. And yet she was not.

It was Cerci, of course, who picked up on it first. The filly had changed a lot since her ordeal, growing introverted and lethargic. She no longer possessed the desire to go out and play in the gardens or to draw her little doodles as much, mainly preferring instead to slummock in her crib and mindlessly wolfing down whatever dish Cerci put in front of her. She also became prone to bad moods, taking up new habits like stomping her hooves and throwing tantrums at minor provocation.

Nochangeling was even remotely aware of the voices that bothered her still. They were not as loud as they used to be, thank the Kami, even though they kept cropping up. On her worst days, they were always accompanied by a bad headache.

These developments were cause for worry for the royal family. It broke Chrysalis’ heart unspeakably every time she tried to wrap her legs around Pupa in a hug or pet her on the head, only to feel her muscles tense up. Despite repeated assurances from everychangeling around her—and herself—that it was a phase that would take time to pass, Chrysalis took to indulge her daughter even more in hopes of raising her spirits. Pupa’s bedroom subsequently filled with stores’ worth of new toys and clothes. Her own personal chef was imported from the Griffin Empire to prepare her favourite meals at any time of the day, even in bed if she wished. Chrysalis even had toyed with the idea of buying her her own pet, probably something exotic. She heard a zoo in Manechuria had recently come into ownership of a pair of baby pandas.

Cerci admired the Queen’s passion to make right by her daughter and was always there to give her support, though she could not help but think the avalanche of gifts were a tad much. She did not question the good intentions behind it, but could not help but fear its detriment to Pupa’s growing up, which the filly was already at a disadvantage. Chrysalis buying her a pyramid of new plushies and dresses was one thing, another if she actually got her an endangered animal for a pet who’s cleaning up would undoubtedly be left to Cerci herself.

As part of her new employment contract, Cerci was given extra powers that would set her above her counterparts: now she was Pupa’s sole carer. This meant she had full access to her at all times (her own private quarters was being set up down the hall from her room) and that those conniving and incompetent harpies could no longer get their mitts near her baby.

As some six months rolled on, the Princess’ condition improved in the constant presence of her family’s love, the Changeling Kingdom moving from its blistering winter into the brief, refreshing respite of spring and finally, reaching one of its notoriously long, humid summers. The time came for the royal family’s summer retreat.

The historic city of Honeycomb had come a long way since its devastation during the Second Griffin-Changeling War. Over the course of the decades it was reborn as no longer just a city of bee farming and the production of fine honey and mead, but also a spa town popular amongst the rich and powerful, rivaling even the capital city in its high quality sentō bathhouses and onsen springs. The owners had not been reserved about the cost, though Chrysalis did not object them, seeing it as an investment.

The royal family had owned a private estate in Honeycomb for the last two hundred years, a grandiose mansion located neatly at the foot of a small mountain, surrounded by pruned cherry blossom trees and complete with a quaint river running along the backyard. It was a perfect getaway and it was here Chrysalis brought Pupa and the rest of her family in order to primp, relax and revitalize their essences.

“Gah! Shoo, shoo!”

Chrysalis raised her head from her stack of folders and newspaper with disinterest to see her sister furiously but daintily swatting at a bee buzzing close to her head.

She lowered her new chained reading glasses, saying, “Don’t aggravate it, Daury. It’ll sting you.”

“If that thing so much as touches me, I’ll burn it to a crisp!” the younger, ganglier sister growled as she kept on swatting at the pest. If it so much as stung her son, rest assured she would magically combust its whole hive herself.

She soon got so fed up that she snatched Chrysalis’ newspaper, rolled it up and gave the bee such a wallop it sent it flying through the air. Chrysalis roughly snatched it back, inspecting it for traces of the insect’s remains.

“I detest those horrid little things,” Danauria bristled, tightening her pristine white bathrobe, reclining back in her chair and readjusting her sunglasses in preparation for absorbing more rays.

“Well, what do you expect? They do still breed a lot of them here,” Chrysalis reminded her as she went back to perusing through her paper and documents again.

They were sat out on the mansion patio at a round table beneath a white parasol that protected them from too much of the rays beating down of this particularly hot, sunny morning. They wore matching fluffy bathrobes and their still wet manes were tied back, both of them fresh out of the spa and the onsen. All they needed to do now was sit back, bake in the sun and listen to the sounds of the birds and the babbling river while the children played down by the riverbank.

The sisters were on significantly better terms than they were all those months ago in the wake of ‘the incident’. Chrysalis was on the receiving end of Danauria’s silent treatment for a weeks until they returned to talking terms. Things between them now were, in a word, “frosty” and Chrysalis was fine with them at least being able to sit together and have a pleasant chat on a holiday.

Danauria lifted her sunglasses, eyeing her sister’s pile of documents irritably. “I thought you were supposed to leave your work at home.”

“I’m not working, I’m just reading,” she replied absentmindedly, shifting her view from her newspaper to an open file. “There’s a difference.”

“Is it related to work?”

“Most of it,” Chrysalis picked up a purple envelope from the pile which bore the Equestrian royal seal and gave it to her. “Another letter from the Princess.”

“And what does she want?”

“Oh, not much, more of the usual,” She had been receiving a flow of letters from Celestia since her visit. Most of them were about asking how Pupa was doing (she had really left an impression on the alicorn) and offers of support and information in her plans. Chrysalis always wrote back; she wanted to keep this relationship nice and cordial, after all. “‘Auntie Celly’ would like to know when Pupa’s birthday is; my best guess is she’ll want to send her a gift.”

Danauria looked over the masterfully penned letter as she magically brought over a porcelain cup of tea and biscuit, sighing fawningly, “Aww, how sweet of her.”

Sensing her sister satisfied and the subject diverted, Chrysalis resumed her reading undisturbed. She knew Danauria was technically right; bringing them here somewhat defeated the object of going on holiday in the first place. At least she was only reading with no long meetings in stuffy boardrooms to bore her halfway to death.

Chrysalis’ focus fixed on the newspaper—a copy of the Equestrian Times no less—she had been going over so thoroughly, with no story text, but a single bold headline.

CHANGELING MILITARY’S GRASP TIGHTENING. POWER SHIFT UNDERWORKS?

She rolled her eyes, breathing a sigh of tedium.

“I think I’ll need a coffee.”

Down by the riverbank, another familiar pair of changelings were unwinding themselves. Cerci had set up a blanket on which she and Pupa, the latter cradled in the former’s legs as usual, were enjoying a picnic. The miniature buffet included traditional fare like bowls of rice and ramen noodles and plates of chicken and vegetable gyōza dumplings which Cerci was busy popping non-stop into Pupa’s mouth like it were a bottomless pit. Cerci did not even bother with using the soy dipping sauce.

“Okay, open wide, here comes the choo-choo train.”

The filly did so and sucked the fat, doughy ball right off the chopsticks, leaving a trail of saliva. She only chewed once or twice before gulping it down and opening wide again for another helping.

“Slow down, honey,” Cerci cautioned, giggling and shaking her head. “I don’t want you getting indigestion again.” Pupa, confirming her suspicions, drew a frown of discomfort. Knowing it was some trapped wind and with a tired sigh, Cerci put down the plate of dumplings and began rubbing steady circles and patting Pupa on the back until she forced a teeny burp out of her. She had not the foggiest clue where she was packing it away, but what she did know was that Pupa grew stouter and heavier with each meal. Soon enough, they were going to need one of those foal carriers from Equestria to lift her about.

Pupa pulled a faux grumpy frown and twisted in Cerci’s legs, tucking her face into her warm, cushiony bosom like a pillow. Fatigue was creeping up on her again and soon she would require her second nap of the day, once her second breakfast was finished.

“You know, sweetie, it’s still early in the day,” Cerci tapped her on the side, trying to keep her awake. “Maybe you’d like to go for a dip in the onsen? Get some exercise.”

A grunt the mare deciphered as a “nah” emanated from the thick ball of grey fur.

“Then perhaps you’d like to go the spa? Ooh, we can get you a hooficure.”

“Mmm.”

“Okay… what about drawing? I know you like drawing.” When all she received was indifferent silence as a response, Cerci had had just about enough of this impertinence and decided to put her hoof down. “Young lady, you are not spending this entire holiday doing nothing but eating and sleeping,” she told her, her tone firm and her head raised proudly. “You do plenty enough of that back home as it is.”

Pupa was surprised when she was sat upright on the blanket and saw Cerci standing sternly over her on all fours. Pupa balled her hooves up and looked like was about to throw a fit; she really had neither the energy or interest in going for a swim or drawing right now, but the older changeling was quite clearly standing her ground.

“Uh-uh, none of that.” She wagged her hoof admonishingly. The nanny magically opened a satchel and out came a hatchling bottle of fresh, glowing love juice which she gave to Pupa. “Now you wait here and have a drink while I go and get the onsen ready for us. It’ll do you a world of…” As she gazed up ahead, her stern front dissolved and words seemed to leave her. “Oh.”

Pupa looked in the same direction and her mood soured further. A mare was approaching their picnic sight along the riverbank with a colt riding on top of her back. She and Cerci recognised the colt as Prince Morphin and the mare who dutifully carried him as his own nanny, Silverfish.

“I know, I know…” Cerci bent down to tickle the hissing Princess soothingly behind the ear as their equivalents arrived, Morphin’s nanny bearing a weaved picnic basket of their own.

“Good morning, Princess, Cerci,” she said neutrally, dipping her head, showing neither inclination of pleasure or distaste.

Bowing back, she returned the sentiment, “Greetings, young Prince, Silverfish.” The two adults exchanged glances that supposedly indicated some secret acknowledgement unbeknownst to the children.

The young Prince bounced up and down petulantly to get Silverfish to dismount him who, heaving a sigh, did as she was commanded.

“Prince Morphin was feeling a touch lonely and he—” she winced at Morphin yanked her mane as he found his footing on the ground, “—would very much like to spend time with his cousin.”

Hearing this was cause enough to make Pupa want to throw up her lunch, and she clung to Cerci’s leg, glaring daggers up at them, hissing. She could think of nothing worse than having to spend time with Morphin; dipping in the onsen and drawing were suddenly looking like much better alternatives.

“That sounds like a fine idea,”

Pupa gawped at her bug-eyed, her jaw dropping so far it nearly hit the ground. Meanwhile, Silverfish proceeded to take something out from the basket and gave it to him discreetly, at the same time whispering something to which he did not react beyond nodding stupidly.

A still thunderstruck Pupa felt Cerci take her under the chin and turn her head so their faces were inches apart.

“Pupa, listen to me…” Cerci braced herself for the oncoming tantrum. “You’re going to stay with your cousin while I go with Silverfish, okay?” The instant the filly’s mouth opened, she pressed her hoof over her lips. “It’s okay. Just for a little bit, then we go to the onsen. He won’t act up this time, don’t you worry.” She removed her hoof and cupped her ear, telling her with a smirk, “And if he does, I’ll smack him.”

This brought a devilish grin to the Princess’ podgy countenance as she suckled on the teat of her bottle.

“Come, let’s give our future royal couple some privacy, shall we, Cerci?” Silverfish pecked her own charge on the crown of his head, murmuring to him to “be good” before heading off up the slope.

Cerci took her little one in her legs and gave her one last fat, wet kiss on her cheek. “I’ll get you some ambrosia later…”

As soon as their loving carers were gone, leaving the children to their own devices, Pupa huffed and dragged her belly along the ground as she crawled to the farthest corner of the blanket so to create as much distance between them as possible.

Pupa just kept her back to him and stuck her muzzle high in the air, imitating the style of the many times she had witnessed her mother do it, while she continued to noisily slurp her love juice. She was not scared of him anymore. All she wanted to do now was ignore him and wait for Cerci to come back for her.

She did not notice (or care for) the distinguishable change in Morphin’s normal appearance and behaviour. He looked like he had been recently well-groomed with his long, matted mane now neatly brushed and a fruity aroma radiating off his cleaner, plushier fur coat. His teeth seemed less jagged and yellow, as if he had recently undergone dental work. If anything, he appeared a lot more… princely.

Perhaps the most odd of all changes was his uncharacteristically introvert behaviour. His demeanour seemed a far cry from the reprehensible, screeching little howler monkey who shoved Pupa to the ground six months ago for the crime of touching him.

He opened his mouth nervously to speak, but whatever words he could muster only spluttered out like the noise made by a bad exhaust pipe. Pupa only harrumphed louder in response, sticking her muzzle so high she was almost staring straight into the sun.

Then she smelt something that stood out from the pure, fresh air and the sweet, sweet scent of the love juice she was still chugging. It was a pleasing, delicious aroma that caused her to salivate and her taste buds to do somersaults. She sniffed the air a bit in search of the source and soon looked behind to see a timid Morphin holding a large rice ball wrapped in nori seaweed, or an onigiri, as her people called them, out to her as some sort of offering.

Feeling her spacious keg of a belly whine with hunger still, Pupa allowed her uncontrollable desire to stuff herself some more to overwhelm her dislike for her cousin, and she crawled over to him with wide-eyed fascination for the treat he was holding. Her bottle of love juice was left abandoned, droplets leaking out the teat onto the fabric. She snuffled the onigiri, eyeing it with curiosity in vague fear that there was something wrong with it, like maybe it was poisoned.

“It’s for you,” Morphin mumbled, holding it out to her further. “It’s got pork and chicken in it.”

Pupa’s face livened up. She loved onigiris filled with juicy pulled pork and roasted chicken. Grinning from ear-to-ear, she hungrily snatched it from him and dug right in, chewing down the juicy meats and getting rice all over her face.

“I’m sorry.”

She looked up from her gorging, cheeks full, her head tilted to one side. Morphin was gazing down uncomfortably at his hooves as he poked around on the blanket.

“I’m sorry I’ve been mean.” It was obviously a rehearsed apology, but he sounded like he meant it for the most part.

Pupa was not sure how she was supposed to react. Her loud munching slowed down, finishing with one more awkward gulp. Seeing there was still one last clump of rice and meat left, she reluctantly offered it back to him to finish off.

The tension and hostility on the blanket faded away. The Princess remained wary around him and she might have returned to her corner if not for her sensitive nostrils picking up the intoxicating smell wafting from the basket Silverfish had left behind.

“There’s more if you want.”

Morphin reached up and lifted the basket’s lid open to reveal, to his cousin’s eye-popping delight, it was completely packed with freshly made onigiris. Their pleasant warmth hit them in the face like a hug, and a busted faucet’s worth of dribble tumbled over Pupa’s bottom lip.

Once he scooped up as many of the rice balls as his legs could carry, the two cousins rested on their haunches and enjoyed their new picnic in the sun. Pupa scoffed away at her heart’s content, dooming all knowledge that her rushing and lack of chewing would undoubtedly result in a bad case of indigestion.

Morphin spent most of the time practically hoof feeding her the marvelous snacks, while making sure to set just a few aside for himself. He was not all that hungry. There was something else he wanted instead.

“Can I…” He raised his voice loud enough to get her to pause for a moment. His hoof was outstretched slightly, reaching seemingly for her face, “Can I touch your mane?”

Instinctively, Pupa shrunk away from his hoof. She remembered what happened the last time he wanted to put his grabby hooves on her mane.

“Please?” he asked, sounding worried he had made a fatal mistake. “I-I won’t be mean, I promise.” When it looked like she was not going to budge, he whipped out an exceptionally large onigiri and presented it to her hopefully as some kind of trade. “Hmm?”

Taking the rice ball in her hooves, Pupa looked from it to Morphin and back. As she took the first bite into it, she very hesitantly and gradually dipped her head, allowing her mane to drop before him.

Morphin saw his chance and started stroking through her gossamer locks. They were just as luxuriously smooth as he remembered, topped off with the strongest hint of pomegranates. But even then, there was something that had him fixated besides a wonderful mane. Morphin did not know what it was, but recently he was starting to see Pupa and fillies in general in quite a different light. Whenever he looked at or thought about her lately, he got a stomach full of butterflies. It never occurred to him before, but Pupa actually looked kinda… pretty to him.

“I…” he stammered once he worked up the courage. “I like you.”

Those three words, squeaked so meekly by such an otherwise normally brass and insolent colt, genuinely surprised Pupa. True, she did not fully understand the meaning of his words; he was probably unsure himself. It was more the way he said it that left a lump of sticky rice laying in her mouth.

Beyond the mane that still veiled her face, for some reason, she could feel a couple of warm, green circles blushing through her cheek fur.

As he ceased grooming her mane and twiddled his hooves, in a voice carrying some greater confidence, he then requested of her, “Can we hug?”

Pupa lifted her head again, shaking her mane from her eyes like a wet dog drying itself. Her widening grin showed the rice and meat still sticking out from between her sharp teeth. It did not take her too long to make up her mind.

“Wait, I’m sorry, what’s it called?” Danauria removed her sunglasses, now squinting from the intensity of the sun’s glare and balancing awkwardly against the backrest of her recliner chair. She had given up on her attempts at sunbaking, having unwittingly been roped into a serious conversation with her sister, whose ostentatious reading and mumbling proved too distracting.

“I haven’t actually come up with our own name for it yet,” Chrysalis licked the cream of her latte from her lip, the cup itself staining the newspaper she was using as its coaster. “The Pegasi had something similar back in the days preceding Equestria. They describe it nowadays as “stratocracy”. I’m strongly considering having it divided up by prefecture. That should make it more easy to manage, wouldn’t you agree?”

Blowing a distasteful little raspberry at her use of ‘political speak’, Danauria deflated into her chair, sipping from the tall, sweating glass of strawberry daiquiri she ordered. “Hmm, I don’t think I can say much about that.”

“Well, there’s no surprise there,” she chuckled, totally ignoring the glare the remark earned from her younger sister.

“So what did Uncle say, when you offered him…”

Chrysalis’ chuckling died out and her smirk thinned out. “The capital?” she spoke as she magically stirred the spoon in her coffee. “Well, you know, he said that he was “very flattered” and that he’d “think long and hard about it”, but I don’t know… he didn’t sound all that enthused by it.”

“That’s strange, I’d thought with all that he preaches, he’d be the first—”

“What—oh no, no, it’s nothing like that. I mean, I’m sure he does. He just, well, don’t go spreading this about, but I think he’s planning to retire soon.”

“Ohhh,” Danauria nodded slowly and understanding. She sipped her drink again. “Well, that makes sense. I mean, he’s an old stallion, Chryssie, and he’s not getting any younger.”

As much as Chrysalis as well as many changelings in the higher-ups disliked to think about it, their Uncle Pincer was part of the next fading generation. Some day, and it may be some day quite soon, he would leave both this world and his family behind. It left a depressing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She made it her goal to have it he lived long enough to witness the political rebirth of their country and its fruits himself.

And this would be her crowning accomplishment, Chrysalis knew this to be true. The Changeling Kingdom was going to molt its old, haggard skin as a third-rate power and out will emerge an effectively-militarized, modern state where the military would become immersed into the daily lives of her subjects.

The basic principle involved the kingdom’s prefectures becoming regionally administered, substituting the need for the capital’s constant interference with new military councils, naturally headed by her own hoof-picked officers of high-rank and lineage. Similar future legislation included local law enforcements being merged with her soldiers into a new efficient, disciplined gendarmerie force. Plus, when war broke out yet again, the changelings would still be the quickest and easiest to the front lines.

The closest Chrysalis could compare it to was killing two birds with one stone: political responsibility spread out and the military redefined in its purpose. The kingdom would be able to still play ball with her limper-wristed neighbours but flex her huge muscles at the same time. Chrysalis might actually see her legacy going down not as the Queen who recklessly tried and failed to conquer Equestria, but instead as the founder of… ‘Changeling Stratocracy’? ‘Chrysalism’?

‘Ugh, I’m really not good at coming up with names,’ she thought before chucking down the rest of her double shot latte. She shook her head a bit, having realized the conversation had been lost in her musings and wanting to return to it. “Regardless, Danauria, even if he doesn’t, there are plenty other Gensui who’ll eagerly take the position—” She cut herself off midway upon turning her head to see her sister no longer lounging next to her. “Daury?”

Chrysalis looked around bewilderedly for her. The search proved short-lived when she spotted Danauria standing a short distance away at the edge of the pateo, flanked to her left by two mares she easily identified as Cerci and Silverfish.

They were staring out at something in silence, all wearing relaxed and loving smiles on their faces. The two nannies sat side-by-side, shoulder on shoulder, sighing contently.

Driven by her curiosity to see for herself what had them so enthralled and slightly annoyed by Danauria’s rude departure, Chrysalis climbed out of her chair and joined them, stopping at her sister’s side.

“What is it? What the hell are you three...” A misty-eyed Danauria raised her hoof to Chrysalis’ mouth to shush her and took her under the chin to direct her attention downwards at the river bank.

Chrysalis’ heart melted on the spot.

Down at the riverbank, safe on their checkered picnic blanket, she saw her daughter and nephew, their legs locked around the other in a hug. The two held each other tight as they laid on the blanket, nuzzling their cheeks in the most tender of ways. Little Morphin, who Chrysalis had thought of in the past as an ill-mannered brat at best, was even stroking her Pupa’s hair with visible tenderness and care.

It was the most adorable thing Chrysalis had seen in her entire life. Her breath caught in her throat. Tears rimmed her eyes. She held a hoof over her mouth to hide her insuppressible smile.

Her and Danauria’s eyes met and whatever animosity that had lingered fully evaporated. The royal sisters lifted their legs over each other’s withers and leaned closer, watching their hatchlings with unwavering maternal pride swelling in their hearts. For a brief moment, Chrysalis and Cerci matched gazes as well. Cerci just gave her a simple nod, which Chrysalis returned.

All the while, the future royal couple rested peacefully in their snuggle, paying no attention to the world outside their little bubble. They only quietly enjoyed this time in each other’s company, listening only to the soothing babble of the river. All was well.

THE END

Author's Note

(A/N) Well, there you have it, everybody. Maternal Instinct, after two years, has finally reached its conclusion. I want to take the time to thank all those who have been following this story throughout, be it from beginning or even just yesterday (Sorry though that I haven’t always been that quick and frequent to reply to comments). However, special thanks goes to those who have helped me out with the story, particularly in editing and pre-reading: Chaodiurn and Scarheart! I could not have finished this journey without your help and support.

I have always been a massive fan of Queen Chrysalis, the changelings and the different ways they can be explored, and this story gave me a great means of doing so, that and I’ve always found the parent-child relationship a wonderful area to explore. Princess Pupa has become, without a doubt, my favourite personal OC and I hope to one day returning to her and this world in the future. Yeah, while I may leave the Maternal Instinct as it is for the foreseeable future, that doesn’t mean I’ve put it to bed for good.

As for what’s next, well, have no fear because Citizen Weevil is still alive and kicking. Don’t worry, there’s no way I’m letting that one slip through the cracks. Also, good news, there is a new story I shall be working very soon. It’s gonna be a full-on comedy, some politics and some raunchy stuff. Not going to give anything else away, but it’s title is ‘That Special Relationship’.

So until then, sayonara, friends, thank you very much for reading.

Ps, to all my Russian and/or Orthodox Christian readers, I wish you all a very Merry Orthodox Christmas.

Chapter One

Maternal Instinct

Chapter One

One stormy winter’s night, Queen Chrysalis was rudely awoken from uneasy dreams to the sound of a loud crash.

She was up from her desk and on all fours in an instant, the sounds of an old stallion's yells and cannon fire still ringing loud in her ears. Her head twisted in several directions in a determined search of some unseen threat. For one horrifying moment, she might have sworn the cannon fire was still happening and her large, gnarled horn instinctively came aglow. It was the enemy! The city was under attack!

It took a moment for her still blurred mind to remember that that was nonsense, the mental ravings of a lethargic, unfocused mare still caught up in her fleeting dreams. She quickly managed to put together that the sound that awoke her was nothing but a simple roar of thunder coming from the storm raging on outside.

Trotting steadily over to a small window, she peered out at the heavy rain pounding against the pane. It was storming so hard she could not see ten feet before her, except when the next flash of lightning illuminated the outside world for a split second so she could see the untouched, impregnable walls of the citadel in which her palace was safely nestled like an egg in its mothers nest.

The Queen of the Changeling’s shoulders slumped and she heaved a sigh of relief, rubbing her pulsating forehead with her hole-ridden hoof. There was no invasion happening and the battlefield, she was certain, was years ago. All was safe.

Recomposing herself in the calm, dignified manner expected from her in her regal status, she brushed the sleet from her enormous, harlequin eyes and surveyed her surroundings. She was standing in her official royal chamber, her quiet sanctuary tucked safely up in one of the towers of her family’s palace.

Her chamber was startlingly plain when compared to the rest of the glamorous palace. It was spacious with jade walls and richly decorated carpets, with a large black wooden desk, stationary and other essentials in one corner and a full sized bed in the other. Chrysalis never prided herself on being a flashy mare and even so, what use would there be in making it another shrine to vanity when she would be one of only a hoofful of changelings to see it? The current situation was much more practical for her to do her nightly work.

‘Idiot... just a bad dream,’ she reprimanded herself for her momentary foolishness, sitting back down at her desk and rubbing her temples. She gathered she must have dozed off some time ago in the middle of work; her reading glasses and the thick mountains of paperwork she was working on remained on her desk, blocking out every inch of varnished wood, with a few more stacks pouring out onto the floor surrounding the stool.

Chrysalis rested her knee on the desk edge and placed her cheek in her hoof, levitating a clock from the stacks of documents and looking at the time. Ten past seven. It was not as late as she feared; she must have only been asleep for an hour at most. She could make up the time if she got back to work immediately and there were no further interruptions.

Her horn gently lit up again and three long ink brushes, of which each sat on top of a different stack- one for executions, the second for requisition orders and the third for edicts - lifted up, dipped themselves into the nearby inkpot and, after donning her reading glasses and mentally retracing her steps, began writing where she left off. This was the way her father always taught her to work.

As she monotonously proceeded to fill out three separate forms at once, Chrysalis could not help but be reminded of the times she spent hunched over a desk doing her assignments as a schoolfilly. She may not have enjoyed it back then, but in hindsight, she would now prefer writing an essay that stretched her mind as opposed to simply copying her name for the two millionth time.

Halfway through spelling ‘Chrysalis’ on one execution order, she discovered a white porcelain teacup sitting behind the stack on top a candle powered tea warmer. She looked it over and found it half full. She licked her lips and with a flick of her horn, brought the cup up to her lips to take a sip.

The Queen suddenly arched her back as a surge of sharp pain shot up her spinal cord and forced a hiss through her teeth. She clasped her hooves over her lower back, the lack of focus causing the brushes to scrape against the paper and the cup to drop, its contents spilling over her bare lap.

“Buck!” she opened her mouth and let out an unnaturally high shriek as her buzzing wings lifted her up in the air, holding onto her back and crossing her scolding hind legs.

Her back had been giving her nothing but grief for days now. The pain came and went at will, naturally choosing to strike at the most inconvenient times. As it slowly eased away into a dull ache, she used her magic to sooth and clean up her burning legs, all while writhing in midair like a worm on a fishing hook.

‘I can’t go on like this,’ she thought miserably, still massaging her lower back fervently. ‘I’ve got to go down to the spa, tomorrow and get this treated.’

When she hovered down to her stool to resume work, she saw that she had badly marred the documents she was in the middle of filling out with ink. They were now ruined. Growling, she smacked the stacks in frustration, sending the top half fluttering to the floor in a mess.

A tiny yellow sticky note stuck out from the pile of white papers. Chrysalis, stewing in her own ire, noticed the small oddity and plucked it up, if only out of a glimmer of curiosity. She read it:

REMINDER:
Pupa’s bedtime. Eight.

Chrysalis slapped herself. She had forgotten all about it! So much for writing it down being useful.

Forgetting about the paperwork for a moment, she pondered what to do. She promised Pupa she would come tonight. It would not take that long, and it was only three minutes past eight; she could make it if she made haste.

Her attention then drew back to the paperwork surrounding her and she groaned. She had already lost too much time sleeping away, and this paperwork had to be done tonight for her meetings tomorrow. There was no more time she could waste going on a pointless errand.

‘I’ll make it up to her later.’ Brushing the note carelessly aside, she levitated the papers from the floor and began sorting them into their correct stack. When she finished sorting them out, she decided to just work around the ink blotches--

A pang of regret crawled across Chrysalis’ features. She paused, staring off into space, but ultimately shrugged it off and resumed her work.

The many twisting, narrow corridors that comprised much of the interior of centuries’ old palace formed a harrowing labyrinth, one of the sort in which an inexperienced servant could find herself lost for days. Most of them were advised not to go wandering about because of this, particularly at night time, when the pitch darkness and deathly silence heightened a changeling’s senses and paranoia.

Cerci was not one to be dissuaded from her duties by such ridiculous notions.

The nanny mare hovered down the corridor at a steady pace, her charge a young filly, whom she was carrying in her forelegs wriggling restlessly about in her hold, the low drone of her buzzing wings rolling up and down the walls. Her horn tip was aglow, basking herself and the filly in a warm light that cleared their path.

The filly whimpered, her muzzle buried deep into the grown mare’s neck. She was obviously scared by the darkness surrounding them both, even within their protective light.

“Shhh, it’s alright,” Cerci bounced her up and down, patting her on the back. “We’re almost there. Shhh.”

Hearing her nanny’s gentle, motherly voice calmed the filly down a great deal. She continued to cling to her fur, curling up into a ball and weighing her down on one side. Cerci cringed, but bared it through and kept them both in the air.

Turning a corner, they came to the bottom of a set of stairs. Cerci bit of her lip and hauled her charge up the spiralling passageway, until they reached the small door at the top. Cerci steadied the filly and opened the door with her teeth, allowing them to enter.

As they entered the room, the nanny cast a spell that turned on the lights and both changelings immediately felt their spirits lifted.

The whole room was a lot bigger than necessary for such a tiny changeling, though it was not particularly glamorous as the rest of the palace; it was built with jade walls and a mint plush carpet, small pyramids of stuffed bug toys decorating one corner, and the essential ornate furniture in the other. It near enough created the appearance of a nursery.

“It’s time to sleep, Princess. Come now.”

A loud yawn escaped the filly Princess’ mouth as Cerci flew over to a four-poster bed, grand enough to accommodate at least five. She set her down on the mattress and was about to tuck her in when the filly started whining again, pointing a heavy, tired hoof at a toy pyramid. Cerci understood.

“Oh, do you want one of your bugs? Do you want Lady?” she asked, cupping her face and pressing her cheeks. The Princess nodded excitedly, smiling through her squishing hold. “Okay, big girl, you just tuck yourself in and I’ll go fetch Lady.”

The Princess did not do such a great job of it as the nanny walked off down the room; she easily pulled away the neatly placed blankets, but struggled greatly to pull them back up. She only possessed so much strength.

Cerci returned moments later, levitating by her side a large plush ladybug toy. She could not help but laugh as she tucked the child in herself, straightening the blankets and fluffing the pillows, making extra sure that she was comfortable.

“Is this who you’re looking for?” she cooed, holding the ladybug plush above her face and dangling it like a toy mouse over a cat. The Princess’ eyes went as wide as dinner plates, her lips tugging into a grin and she pulled her legs out to reach for it. “Here comes Lady!” Cerci did her best impression of Lady flying into and eating up the filly’s face. “Nom nom nom!”

Laughing out loud, the Princess took her toy in a hug so tight it would break its non-existent bones and rolled around in bed with it. Cerci climbed onto bed with her, lying quietly by her side for a while, saying nothing as she stroked her soft, cerulean mane with the tip of her hoof.

Cerci did not look like the stereotypical nanny with a greyed mane and stocky build, but rather the opposite: she was a young, pretty and slender changeling mare, just old enough to have larvae of her own, with her shiny lavender mane done up into a thick, large ponytail. She wore a plain, formal kimono, befitting her status as a servant.

The Princess, however, was a different story. She was certainly well groomed and fed and dressed in a beautiful black silk floral night robe, but still a scrawny looking filly with a sickly, pale complexion and suffering from many physical afflictions. Beneath that pretty robe, she was suffering from a curvature of the back; her wings were unnaturally small, even for her age; her hole-ridden limbs were disproportionate to each other, the left foreleg being badly withered; her eyes were glassy and sunken in, and a continuous trail of saliva ran from her bottom lip like a tap, which Cerci was always ready to dab up.

Some changelings, if they had the gall or just plain stupidity, might have described her as ‘ugly’, but Cerci was not that kind of changeling. In her eyes, a few withered legs or a bit of drool mattered not; in her eyes, her little Princess was adorable from horn to tail.

A few moments passed before she turned her head to the bedside table. On top of it were a glass of water and some jars containing multi-coloured tablets. She almost forgot about them. She levitated them over, too comfy to shift from her spot.

“Open up,” she instructed the Princess calmly, levitating a tall glass of water and a bunch of multi-coloured tablets from the bedside table. The Princess opened her mouth, letting her large tongue roll out the corner and allowed the insectoid mare to feed her tablet after tablet, washing them all down with short gulps of water.

“There, all gone.” Cerci screwed returned the glass and jars, got off the bed and was about to turn off the light when she asked, "Okay, are you comfortable, sweetheart? Do you need anything else first?”

Almost like the flip of a switch, the Princess’ smile vanished and she began to whimper, making a pleading face to her nanny and squeezing the plush ladybug tighter. There was no doubt she was tired, but she still did not want to go to sleep just yet. The nanny immediately knew why.

“Now, now, Princess,” she hushed, stroking the filly’s mane again. “I know you wanted Mama to come tonight, but she’s very busy. A Queen has many responsibilities to attend to. Perhaps another night. Besides, Lady will keep you company.” Seeing her downcast expression, Cerci knew this was not going to be enough to satisfy the Princess. An idea came to mind and she grinned. “Pupa... I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Princess Pupa immediately ceased her whining and cocked her head as her nanny covered her face with her hooves. There was a small flash of green behind them.

“Wherrre’s Cerci?” She removed her hooves. Her face had transformed into that of a pink pony with a shock of blue mane, or rather, what many ponies would call an offensive, saccharine caricature of their species. She answered in a screechy, syrupy sweet, “Heeere she is!”

Pupa burst out laughing the moment she saw Cerci’s ridiculous new face. She looked just like the ponies she had seen in many of her picture books, with the wide, sparkling eyes, the bright colours and the ridiculously big grins showing off their sparkling buck teeth.

Before she knew what hit her, Cerci covered her face again and revealed that of a white-headed Griffin, accompanied by the stereotypical monocle and moustache.

“Hallo!” she shouted in a thick, male Griffin accent, twirling one end of her newly acquired tash.

This went on for quite a while. Cerci would change her face to some over-the-top example of a different species or a changeling they knew, whilst Pupa would laugh herself silly until she was out of breath. It was a favourite game of theirs, especially for when the little one needed a little extra incentive for going to bed.

The game reached its climax when Cerci yanked away the blanket to scoop Pupa up in her forelegs. She opened up her night robe and blew a long raspberry into the green plating over her belly. The filly threw her head back and squealed in delight. Cerci stopped for a moment to let her calm down, before blowing a second, harder raspberry, resulting in laughter-induced tears from her. By the end of it, Pupa was almost entirely worn out, only managing an odd giggle.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Cerci said, resting the filly back into bed and giving her one last goodnight kiss. She took out a silk hoofkerchief and dabbed the drool around Pupa’s lips. “There, messy filly.” She then turned the light off and smooched Pupa’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, Pupa-chan.”

After Cerci left the room, Pupa shut her eyes and allowed herself to relax into her soft bed. It had been a long day and now the Changeling Princess needed what her mother called ‘beauty sleep’. She did not understand why she needed it, though; Cerci and all her other nannies kept saying how she was “the most beautiful and precious filly in the whole kingdom”, so what was the point?

In little time, Pupa felt her head go fuzzy and the weight in her body disappear. It made her feel so light it was as if she were floating on a cloud. Her fur stood up on end and she was overcome with a strong tingling sensation, making her break out into short giggling fits, despite her fatigue. This always happened to her at bed time after Cerci put her to bed and gave her her tablets.

“Take these to the Ministers’ desks immediately,” Chrysalis ordered the two servants hovering in her chamber, both carrying paperwork up to their muzzles. “I need their signatures for them to be finalized.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” both chimed, bowing and turning to fly out of the open door.

The Changeling Queen whistled and wiped her brow, looking back at her now indented mountains of paperwork. She was getting there. If she kept it up, she might actually be able to sleep well tonight.

She flew over to close the door, but was stopped when a certain mare appeared in the doorway. Rather, only her head was visible; the rest of her body was hidden behind the wall.

“Cerci? What are you doing here?” It was a simple question, her tone surprisingly conveying more of curiosity than irritation.

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Cerci bowed subserviently, her voice sheepish, even if she did not appear mad. She always feared being in the Queen’s presence, going back to when she was a teenager working in the palace laundry rooms with her mother and she would slide in to inspect the softness of the cotton blankets. “I did not mean to intrude.”

A look of irritation returned to Chrysalis’ face in the form of her rolling her eyes. “I’m sure. Listen, is there anything I can help you with? As you’re already aware, I’m quite busy.”

“I just wanted to let you know Pupa’s safely been put to sleep.”

She stared at her with glazed, uninterested eyes. “Good. And... ?” Obviously, there was something else.

Cerci gulped, feeling sweat forming on her coat. She began, selecting her words carefully, “Well... it’s just that, the Princess was rather... upset that you could not come tonight.”

The Queen blinked, seemingly just remembering the promise she broke that night. The servant could have sworn she saw a glint of contrition clouded in bitterness in those intimidating green orbs.

She did not reply, but instead turned and faced her back to her, head hung low. After a minute of brooding silence, she finally responded, speaking with a low, bitter voice, “I have more important duties that take up most of my time, Cerci. Pupa’s a grown filly now. If she feels she needs an endless supply of hugs and kisses, that’s what she’s got you for. I can’t fritter away valuable time on such trifles.”

The remarks wormed their way under Cerci’s skin. She felt her shoulders tense up and her hooves push harder into the carpet. It was a trifle for the Queen to put aside a few minutes to see her own daughter?! It was not like she was asked to give up her whole evening or chop off her horn!

Honestly, she did not know how angry she really should be, considering this was not the first time Her Majesty broke a promise to visit her child. There was the night two weeks ago where work overload was the same excuse. Her schedule was tight, the nanny understood this, but how many times could a mother and she herself lie to Pupa’s face? Why did she make promises she knew she could not keep?

Cerci wanted to protest, to tell her she was being selfish and inconsiderate, but all that came out of her mouth was a feeble mumble.

“She only wishes to see her mother...”

Chrysalis looked back at the nanny out the corner of her eye and sighed, almost admitting some kind of defeat. “Alright, alright. If this is really something she won’t stop whining about, I’ll see what I can do tomorrow night. But I’m not promising anything.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Cerci replied, a hollow smile returning. She knew it was another straight-up lie, but what could she do?

“Now get back to your quarters, servant.”

Keeping herself as small as she could, Cerci scuttled across the floor and silently closed the door behind her, leaving the Changeling Queen all alone with nothing to give her company but her endless paperwork.

It took her a while, as it always did, but Pupa soon giggled herself an inch from total slumber. The mattress and pillows were soft and cushy; her blankets freshly washed and covering her up as if she were a cosy bedbug, and Lady there to keep her company.

But at that very moment, she heard her door slowly creak open, followed by the sound of hooves crunching against the carpet.

Pupa forced her eyelids open to tiny slits, just enough for her to see, but this meant little in the darkness that engulfed her bedroom. The crunching sound grew louder and she could tell whoever or whatever it was was approaching her bedside.

She began to fear if she was under threat, and held Lady close, going as far to bury her muzzle in her fluffy belly. She relaxed when she felt a gentle hoof brush through her mane, sending a tingle down her poor back.

“Wake up, baby,” spoke a strange shaky voice that sounded like two changelings were speaking at the same time. Pupa instantly recognised it as belonging to her mother. Her eyes shot wide open and snapped her head in the voice’s direction. In the darkness that engulfed her bedroom, she could surprisingly well make out the form of her beautiful mother standing there, smiling down upon her with truly all the love in the world.

Pupa broke free from her tight blanket and held her forelegs out for her mother, yearning for her sweet embrace. Her mother smiled and gently climbed into the bed with the filly, nestling very close and draping her forelegs around her and the stuffed ladybug in a hug.

They laid there for a while, enjoying each other’s (and Lady’s) company. Her mother soon broke the embrace and went back to stroking her filly’s mane some more, planting the occasional sticky, wet kiss on her face. Pupa moaned with pleasure, her left leg twitching slightly and finally falling asleep against her mother’s bosom. For her, if love was such an important food for her and her people, then this was all she would ever need.

Yet this tranquil night came to an end when the rays of Princess Celestia’s sun gradually shone through the shoji window screens of her room.

Cerci, freshly awakened and washed, eventually entered the room with careful footing. She found the regal filly strewn over the bed alone, still hugging Lady and her eyes moving about in their sockets, indicating she was still peacefully dreaming. The loving nanny smiled; she hated the thought of disturbing the little creature, but they had their daily schedule to keep and there was the minor fact Pupa’s sheets were utterly drenched with drool.

Princess Pupa spent the first few hours of her morning as she usually did by having more tablets shovelled down her throat, then being thoroughly washed and lastly dressed by her elite squadron of nannies and hoofmaidens, of which Cerci was the head.

The whole process was by no means an easy one. After she had just woken up, the Princess tended to get quite cranky and had a tendency to lash out at her nannies and maids as they tried to prep her for the day. It did not help that she already disliked most changelings besides Cerci touching her. That morning alone, when one maid tried to tie an obi rather tightly around her waist, Pupa bucked her hind legs to get her to stop, unintentionally striking said maid in the eye, who bowed before her and went to put an ice pack over her eye.

When the Princess was finally cleaned and dressed up in a beautifully pristine lilac kimono and a crown that looked a miniature version of her mother’s, Cerci picked her up and flew off to the dining room.

“Don’t worry, we’ll apologize to her later,” said Cerci to a shamefaced Pupa, picking the filly’s spirits up and softening her guilt.

It was now time for breakfast with the rest of the Royal Household, as was tradition.

The dining room was grand enough to seat two hundred changelings at a time. Its walls were coloured dark cerulean and grey, the colours of the kingdom’s flag, but they were lost in a sea of tapestries and priceless artwork. Three large golden ornamental chandeliers were hanging from the dome ceiling, which was decorated with paintings of the countryside, showing off the natural beauties of their nation outside the cities.

The members of Royal House of Roachanov assembled at the short polished dark wood table, sitting down on their haunches with their hind legs crossed. They were a large clan, their dynasty reaching back as far as four hundred years and consisted well over a hundred members, many of whom were not present; a colourful collection of princes and princesses. Pupa was positioned right next to the far end of the table with Cerci, being cradled in the elder’s forelegs like a larva.

Whenever Pupa was surrounded by her extensive family, she could always sense the pride and love radiating off them all. She did know how to feed off another creature’s love, but it was a sacred rule that nochangeling would ever feed off their own kind (unless willingly given), not that such a vile thought would ever cross her simple mind. Even so, like all changelings, the Crown Princess could finely pick up on emotions like a radar, and what she felt made her cheeks blush. It all made sense to Cerci. Whether the filly fully understood it or not, Pupa was the centre of this large, united family, the focus of all its hopes and affections, the “Baby”. No other changeling filly was more beloved.

The family waited silently for its head, the monarch to arrive for them to start eating. She was somewhat later than usual, but when she finally did arrive, her presence was well made known. The golden double doors slowly opened and the dining room was flooded with the royal guards, all Arctic blue-eyed and maneless, who took up their places around the room, all of them armed with spears and looking like they were ready to draw blood at the nod of a head. As this all happened, everychangeling in the room stood up.

Finally the most powerful changeling on the face of the planet walked in, flanked by her elite hoof-picked armoured guards. Pupa’s face lit up when she saw her standing out beautifully amongst the gruff, thuggish stallions.

Her Mama.

Acting in a manner as if she were the only changeling in the room, Queen Chrysalis sat down at the head of the table. She was wearing a gorgeous black and green patterned kimono trimmed with gold, neither the most glamorous or expensive garb, but it suited her. Chrysalis was never known to be flashy. Without a word, breakfast began.

The table was decorated with a diverse abundance of food, consisting of the traditional Changeling and the modern Equestrian, enough to feed an entire village for a month. Amongst the more traditional foods, they included bowls of rice, cooked meat of various animals and hot, delicious bowls of glowing pink love soup, whilst the modern spread included the kind of foods that would be eaten at Canterlot Castle, like toast, fruit, cakes, macaroons, pastries, fine tea and coffee, etc. But the pièce de résistance was the fine collection of ponies placed on silver platters, all bound and groaning through their gags like the souls of the damned.

Pupa, already a porky filly, even by aristocratic standards, fidgeted in Cerci’s legs to get her to start feeding her. The older mare used her horn magic to levitate chopsticks or lumps of food into the Princess’ mouth. Pupa needed a lot of help when it came to eating; she found it difficult to chew some solid foods by herself. Cerci would have to use her horn magic to take control of the filly’s jaw to chew for her.

Within minutes, the Princess polished off the rice, love soup and meat and moved onto the sweeter dishes. She was extremely fond of fruits, and Cerci kept shovelling them into her mouth like a waste disposal. Unfortunately, this only further led to Pupa making a complete mess of herself, most unbecoming of a Princess. Her muzzle was covered in rice, cream, soup, and meat and sticky fruit juices that ran down to her chest and large tummy, spoiling her once pristine kimono. None of her family members, on the other hoof, who were eating with enough eloquence to prevent a single drop landing on their persons, paid any notice.

It was only when boredom set in and Pupa’s other bad habits at the table resurfaced that her family’s patience was tested. Young Pupa was fascinated by other creatures’ manes; the colours, the texture, the way some of them flowed in the wind. Combined with her being an exceptionally grabby filly, this often led to some uncomfortable moments. So when she spotted her older cousin’s pretty purple mane done up in a fashionable new style, Pupa could only think to reach out and grab a feel.

“Ow. Ow!” The older cousin squealed as Pupa grabbed and tugged on one of her locks. “Pupa, stop it!”

“Pupa,” Cerci scolded the filly, swatting her hoof to get her to let go. “Stop that at once, young lady.”

Her orders fell on deaf ears, and rubbed the silky smooth mane against her cheek, staining it with the food stains still on her face. It was only thing she could think to do. She then pulled harder, causing her cousin to scream louder and made even more of a spectacle.

“Ow, ow, OW!”

“Pupa, let go of your cousin’s mane, immediately!”

The other members of the royal family either tried to ignore what was going on or tried to interfere, depending on how close they were to the commotion. The guards just stood where they were, stone-faced and not even twitching in reaction to the fairly humorous scene unfolding in front of them. The situation would have only got worse if a certain voice did not speak up.

“I’m trying to eat here.”

Everychangeling, including Pupa, went dead silent, stopping what they were doing and their heads spinning in the direction of the end of the table. Chrysalis’ head was raised from the trembling pony she held in her forelegs, retracting her large wet fangs. Her menacing harlequin eyes, retracted into her skull with lines induced by lack of sleep and stress beneath them, turned on Pupa, Cerci and her niece.

“Pupa. Let her go. Now.”

A now very sheepish Pupa released her cousin’s mane and gave her a remorseful look as if to say ‘sorry’, while said cousin rubbed her now very sore head. Her mother’s harsh, impatient tone was enough to suck the playful giddiness out of the filly, reducing her to silently curling up against Cerci’s body. It was not just her who was suddenly fearful. Everychangeling else seemed to shy away at the sound of her sharp tone, as if they were afraid that she might lunge out and attack somechangeling at any moment.

Chrysalis glowered at them for a few seconds, and then returned her focus on her breakfast, which was now crying fluidly and whose muffled wails could barely be heard through her apple gag. She icily addressed Cerci, although she was more focused on enlarging her teeth and examining the best place on the pony’s neck to continue her feeding.

“Cerci, if you’re so incapable of reigning in my daughter’s behaviour at the table, then kindly take her outside. Some of us have a long day ahead and don’t have time for her acting up.”

“... Yes, my Queen.”

Standing up and bowing in respect, Cerci hoisted Pupa up so their heads were the same height and quietly hovered towards the double doors. Some of the other royals watched her depart; the others continued eating like nothing happened. This was not the first time, after all.

The filly peered regretfully over her nanny’s shoulder at her mother, who merely casted a cold look of indifference at her out the corner of her eye. She frowned sadly and slumped on Cerci’s shoulder, clinging onto the inferior fabric and the feeling of guilt growing inside her as the doors slammed loudly behind them.

When they were far enough away, Cerci took Pupa to a lavish chair and sat her down roughly on it. She was not particularly happy with the filly at the moment, who pouted grumpily and looked down at the floor, wanting to avert her stony gaze.

“Your Highness,” Pupa winced at her nanny sternly addressing her by that formal term. She only ever called her that when she was about to lecture her. She remained hovering in mid-air, crossed her forelegs, and continued, “Your mother was not proud of your behaviour back there, and to be honest, neither was I.”

Pupa tried to keep up her grumpy façade by crossing her own legs and tucking her head into her own chest in defiance, but such an attempt was futile. The Princess’ love of her nanny was strong enough that it almost rivalled that for her mother, so even a glimmer of anger from Cerci was enough to intimidate her. Slowly, she raised her head to face Cerci with moist puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t give me that look, young lady, you know what you did.” Despite how justified she was in scolding her, Cerci could not help but feel horrible for doing it, especially when she had to stare into those adorable watering eyes. The sticky mess on her face only served to make her appear so pathetic that Cerci had to restrain herself from squeezing her like a teddy bear. “You’ve been told time and time again not to pull on other changelings’ manes, but you did it anyway.”

A whinny escaped Pupa’s pursed lips and she began tugging on a lock of her own cerulean mane.

Cerci sighed heavily, her shoulders dropping and tone becoming softer, “I know how much you like them, but how many times do I need to tell you? It violates other changelings’ personal space and what’s more, it’s rude!” At first, Pupa seemed not to understand, until she heard those last two words and nodded timidly. “How would you like it if somechangeling just came up and yanked on your mane? I wouldn’t think you’d like that very much, would you?”

Pupa simply stared back at her with a blank expression, blinking a few times. Cerci groaned again in frustration and rubbed her temples, turning her back to the filly.

“Oh, Pupa, what am I going to do with you?”

A painful silence followed. The elder mare felt something prod her against the back, making her turn around to see ‘the face’. Pupa’s harlequin eyes (she had her mother’s eyes) were dilated, her cheeks were puffed out and she was smiling so sweet it would give a less experienced mare diabetes.

The nanny had to suppress a chuckle. “Don’t you try and play that on me, little one. It doesn’t work.” That was, until Pupa put on the quivering bottom lip which combined with those eyes, made Cerci’s heart melt like butter. “Aw baby... c’mere...” She coiled her forelegs around the filly’s waist and held her close. “Who could ever stay mad at you?”

Pupa mumbled into her chest, the best the mare could make out to be an apology.

“I know you are, sweethear--” She cringed uncomfortably when she held her away and discovered bits of rice and fruit juices on her own kimono. Pupa held her hooves to her mouth, giggling at the sight. “Okay, that was my fault.”

Her anger dissipated and now replaced with love and affection, Cerci carried her charge down the corridor in the direction of the bathroom for the second time that day, and it was unlikely to be the last.

Chapter Two

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Two

Chrysalis was not having a good day. Her schedule for the day was packed with several long meetings. The first was with her cabinet of ministers, followed by her top generals, then the palace staff, it was an endless list.

The majority of governments to the world's numerous and diverse nations went through the same grind, the Queen's kingdom in the still underdeveloped Far East being no exception, thus was the price of 'modernization'. She personally could not bear these long, tedious meetings with these incompetent buffoons inside that dreary, freezing closet of a room as they were. They already taxed heavily on her free time and sleep, but the ones she had today, preceded by those over the last several weeks were proving particularly painful for the ageing mare.

“Your Majesty? Are…are you with us?” That was the polite, formal way of saying, ‘wake up, you lazy mare!’

Chrysalis forced her heavy eyelids open to glare daggers across the table at her new Minister of Immigration and Citizenship. He was an exceptionally short and bespectacled changeling with a thin, long cerulean beard. He sat cross-legged to her left at the short table where the entirety of the cabinet also sat, all cross-legged and dressed in muted kimonos. Chrysalis herself sat at the far end of table, as was custom, with the Prime Minister to her right.

“I’m awake,” she growled, pinching her sinuses. “Continue.”

“Yes, well,” he cleared his throat and proceeded to read from his documents. “The official reports have come back.” His face was grim, as if he supported the entire weight of the kingdom upon his shoulders and his hooves would give out at any moment. “Officially, a total of 138,000 changelings left the kingdom last year. That is a 24,000 increase from the previous year. Out of that number, the majority have left for Equestria and the Fillypines, and a significant minority have gone to the Griffin Empire and even the Diamond Dog Republic...” He trailed off uncertainly when the Queen raised her hoof.

“Diamond Dogs. My subjects now prefer to live amongst mangy, flea-bitten mongrels than under me, is that what you've just told me?”

The Minister did not know how to respond. His worried eyes glanced towards his fellow ministers for assistance, who either just shrugged or kept out of eye contact.

“Well?” Her voice grew impatient.

Eventually, all the Minister could do was shrug and stutter, “W-well…I can’t anything on their intentions, Your Majesty. We lack the data.”

Chrysalis took in a deep breath and sighed. “I’ve heard enough of this. Move on to the next item of business.”

Checking the schedule, the Prime Minister motioned to another minister further down the table, saying, “We have a report from the Ministry of Health.”

The stallion shuffled his papers and read from them, sounding even more dejected than his preceding colleague, “Your Majesty, in spite our best efforts to curtail it, I'm afraid to inform you hatchling mortality rates are still seeing a worrying rise."

"Hmm..." The Queen clucked her tongued thoughtfully, not even looking in his general direction. That was now, sadly, the fifth year in a row. "Yes. That is proving yet another problem to our ever-growing list, isn't it? I honestly think I may given you one of the most depressing jobs in the whole kingdom, Minister." The minister shrunk in his seat and she ordered dully, “I want this kept on top priority. I can't keep building an army with my soldiers dying prematurely on me. Next.”

The Prime Minister boredly pointed a hoof at the next dead changeling walking. The Minister for Agriculture and Food, the most aged and haggard out of all the changelings there, wiped his glasses and opened up his folder, slowly scanning through his documents with strain. The other ministers waited patiently out of respect for their worn colleague.

“I stand corrected,” she deadpanned.

There was an old saying that went around in changeling politics that if you wanted to look older and fast, become the Minister for Agriculture and Food. This Changeling had been doing the job for five years, and he looked at least ten years older than he started.

The Minister’s news was grave. “The food shortage, I am afraid, my Queen, is reaching critical levels in many of the prefectures, primarily of the southern regions. The situation is dire.”

“What else is new?” she yawned uninterestedly, examining her hoof.

“Analysts from our kingdom, in collaboration with the League of Nations, have found that unless serious action is taken within the next three years, the south will face a creaturtarian crisis.”

Far from showing shock or concern over this revelation, as would be expected if the situation were taking place with any other world leader, Chrysalis craned back her neck to stare up at the darkness that clouded the ceiling from sight. It was old news to her, more so than you would think, seeing how this mess was all part of her inheritance. She said nothing for the next minute and a half, and no minister dared speak during that moment of time in case she did. When she broke the silence, it was enough to nearly make the other ministers jump from their spots.

“You know…you’d think, wouldn’t you? That being them being the region where they’re leaving the most--” She looked at the Immigration Minister. “Is that right?” He nodded. “You’d think they’d actually be more love for them to share around, or even just basic food,” she figured, tracing the tip of her large hoof along the polished table surface. “You know why they’re leaving? The Changelings in those regions have become greedy. No, worse; they’ve become like ponies.” The tone of her voice became very scornful when talking of her own subjects as she laid bare her own conclusions. Her shoulders tensed up and her hoof was now loudly scratching up the two million yen table. “They can’t be content with what they already have. I’m doing all within my power to help my subjects, but now they’re turning their backs on me and scurrying off like vermin! Well, you know what? If that’s the kind of respect they show their Queen, they can burn in Tartarus for all I care!” She pointed at the Immigration Minister. “You.”

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Congratulations, I’ve just made your job a lot easier.” Chrysalis stuck her muzzle in the air in a royal manner. “We’ll hear no more reports on those ungrateful cretins who are leaving. They are not worthy of our time.”

The immediate reception of this informal decree, albeit not openly expressed, was mixed at best. On one side were the devout monarchists, made up mostly of nobility, who backed their Queen’s decisions to the very end, and who coincidentally found themselves in the higher, more key positions within the cabinet. The rest would be considered more independent or liberal thinkers, mainly professionals holding position with less political clout. Most of the monarchists likely agreed with her that keeping record of these emigrants was needless, considering that their Queen’s view was they were practically traitors, but the others were probably wringing their hooves beneath the table at suddenly losing this important statistic. But no matter their reservations, no changeling spoke out and accepted their Queen’s decision.

“Only those who prove their loyalty to me in the southern region will receive any help. We need to spend the next five--wait a second…” her face suddenly tensed and her eyes lit up. In her rant, she had too easily forgotten an important detail her Minister mentioned, which then hit her between the eyes. She snapped her head back in the direction of her Food Minister. “I’m sorry, how long did you say we had?”

He gulped and replied, “Three years, ma’am.”

“Uh, no. No. You told me last time we had five! And that was like, what, three months ago?”

“Well, y-yes, but upon further inspection, ma’am, they’ve deducted the more accurate estimate is three.”

She furrowed her brows, snapping at the Prime Minister, “Give me my copy!” The leader of the cabinet used his magic to levitate the top of a short stack of folders in the centre of the table and set it in front of the Queen, who donned a pair of small reading glasses and rummaged through the folder. She detested wearing them; they made her feel like an old mare. “Alright, let’s see here…” she mumbled to herself.

It was not the inevitable rage from their Queen that had the ministers terrified, but the silence, that was the worst part. The knowledge that it was coming, just sitting there helplessly and waiting for it to happen. And happen it did, though not for the reasons they were expecting.

“Wha…what?” Chrysalis’ expression became that of confusion, and then quickly followed by anger. “What the…” She scowled, removed her glasses and barked at her underlings. “What is this?!”

Dead silence, until the Prime Minister forced himself to speak, “W-w-what do you mean, ma’am?”

“WHAT. IS. THIS!?”

Her horn glowed sickly green and several documents flew out of the folder and suspended in mid-air. The ministers went wide-eyed, with some restraining themselves from giggling at what they saw. These were indeed the documents, but they had been defiled to the point the writing was unintelligible. Scrawled all over the surface of these documents were large, brightly coloured doodles. They were drawn most crudely, even for doodles of trademark critters like rabbits and cats. It was something a larva having only just grown its legs would make.

“Hmm,” the Food Minister adjusted his glasses and leaned in to get a better look. “I do believe the one on the left is supposed to be a cat. The one beneath it I believe to be a dog. It’s quite hard to tell, Your Majesty, these aren’t exactly works of art.”

“Actually, I think that one in the corner there…” the Health Minister grinned slyly, pointed at the bottom right corner on the document the second from the right. It was a sloppy picture of a changeling that had not been filled in black and had a large green crown on its head. “I think that is supposed to be you.”

Silence resumed as the Queen narrowed her eyes down to slits. Her cheeks were blushing in embarrassment, but were thankfully covered up by the locks of mane over her face. She dropped the documents, only rolling one up and keeping it by her side and rose from her sat position, stating in a tone as dry as a desert, “Hey, you know what? Buck it. This meeting is over. We’ll reconvene next week, same time.”

“But, ma’am, the matters at hoof--” the Prime Minister tried to say.

“Can wait for a week, Prime Minister. You’re all dismissed.”

The ministers got up and bowed in unison, as was tradition, and the Queen walked around the table, hissing something in the Prime Minister’s ear. He straightened up and followed her out the room. When both were gone, the remaining ministers slumped their shoulders and either let out collective sighs of relief or a chorus of restrained sniggering under their breath.

“I’m getting a drink,” the Immigration Minister said as they all began shuffling out of the room.

“I’ll join you,” The Defence Minister patted his shoulder. “I’m going to need it for the briefing this afternoon. Cricka, will you be joining us?”

Remaining seated, the Food Minister kept reading through his thick folder. “No. I need to meet with my undersecretary after this. I’m booked all the way up to eleven, tonight. I’ll see you all next week.”

“I want him replaced by next week’s meeting.”

The Prime Minister did a double take, keeping at his Queen’s heels as they both turned a corner in the wide hallway. “Replace Cricka? Are you sure, ma’am? He’s been working extra hours every night for last six months--”

“He’s suffered enough. I’ll give him his pension and a dacha. You just make sure he announces his resignation by tomorrow, and that you have somechangeling else in the position before the next cabinet meeting. I need a changeling with a glimmer competence for this bucking mess.”

Chrysalis’ kingdom had unfortunately fallen on evil days, and even that may be considered an understatement by some. For each political problem, there were three economic or social ones, blaring across the headlines of the international newspapers and the results of which were becoming more difficult to cover up from the rest of the world. Hundreds of thousands of her people were packing up and fleeing from the kingdom to make the journey to Equestria and start a new life. Many of them were skilled and qualified workers, causing a crippling brain drain. Worse still, the shortages of food and basic materials and products were as bad as they had ever been. A record number of changelings were dying of starvation every year. It all led to one massive headache for Chrysalis that she would not wish on any of her enemies... except maybe Celestia and Luna.

“Yes, my Queen. It will be done.” He stopped when she turned into a passageway leading to a spiral staircase. “You have a military briefing in two hours, ma’am.”

“I know.” She stopped to show him the rolled up document before storming up the stairs. “I just have a few things to take care of, first!”

In a small but beautifully decorated room in the eastern tower of the palace, Princess Pupa sat cross-legged in front of a small round table littered with papers and a whole rainbow of crayons. She barely managed to levitate a purple one in the air with her puny horn, which gave off a few measly green sparks. The crayon sloppily ran across the paper, and the filly furrowed her brows in concentration, though it did not help much as her artistic skills left much to be desired.

Sat not too far away at a short varnished desk was Cerci, who was busy writing on a scroll quietly whilst the filly played, using a brush she infrequently dipped back into a small ink pot. She was writing a letter to her sister, who lived outside the capital in one of the hundreds of surrounding villages in the prefecture. As a servant in the royal household, her contact with family and friends living outside the extravagant palace was not an easy task.

Cerci suddenly felt something hit her on the back of her head. She looked over her shoulder to see a rolled up piece of paper fall to the carpet. She levitated it up and flattened it out. It was another one of Pupa’s many drawings. It featured three characters, all crudely drawn, but identifiable as changelings, complete with tiny pink hearts surrounding them. She figured that the smallest was meant to be Pupa; the one to the left with a pink mane was easily herself and finally, the one with a large yellow crown and green mane was Queen Chrysalis. It was adorable; Pupa with her two favourite changelings in the world.

Ignoring the picture’s shoddiness, she smiled encouragingly at the filly, “My, my, we have an artist in the royal family, it would seem.” Pupa beamed at the praise and got back to work on her next masterpiece, and Cerci set the paper down on her table. “Now you finish up whatever else you’re drawing. We’re going to go outside in the gardens soon and later we can get you some lunch.”

Her eyes going wide as dinner plates, the Crown Princess of the Changeling Kingdom licked her lips in anticipation. She pushed the drawing she was currently working on aside and began drawing, however poorly, all the things she imagined she was going to gorge her insatiable appetite on, including rice, ramen and a big bowl of love soup.

While the Princess’ happiness gave her happiness, Cerci could not help but feel deep-rooted remorse when thinking about Pupa and her day-to-day life. All her cousins were right now receiving their elite education by their tutors, while she, despite being past the age to begin her studies, remained all day with her, drawing, painting, playing with her toys, and any activity that would not be considered too vigorous for the filly.

Only once did Cerci summon the courage to discuss the matter of Pupa’s education with Queen Chrysalis. It was when Pupa was nearly old enough to start schooling and not a word had been spoken of arrangements or tutors or anything learning related. She began to fear the filly’s education was simply being neglected, something she could not allow for her country’s future leader.

She put it off for a few days, but Cerci finally decided to visit Chrysalis’ royal chambers at night to ask her about it. At that time, the Queen was signing a whole mountain’s worth of documents, so her ire was to be expected.

“What do you want?” she asked more with tedium than anger, lying down on her favourite cushiony rug with her back to Cerci, using her horn magic to write on some documents with a black brush.

Cerci closed the door and gingerly took a few steps forwards, saying, “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I just really need to discuss an important matter with you.”

The Queen, at first, did not reply, creating an air of fear and suspense. Cerci felt her forehead moisten, fearing she had a made a serious mistake even coming in.

“So talk,” Chrysalis finally said, now sounding irritated. “What is it?”

“Your Majesty, it’s... it’s about Pupa,” she said nervously.

“That’s a shocker,” she muttered, rolling her huge, bug-like eyes and turning her head slightly to look at her out the corner of her left. “What about her?”

“I only wish to know... when she will begin her education.”

The brush Chrysalis was writing with stopped and returned delicately to its ink pot. Sitting back on her haunches, she looked at Cerci like the latter had a leg growing out her forehead instead of a little horn.

“What?” she asked, almost sounding like she was about to laugh.

“It... it’s just that, there’s been no talk on it,” explained Cerci, rubbing one foreleg with the other. “And the little one is now of school age. If you want me go searching for tutors suitable for her special nee--” Chrysalis waved her hoof and she immediately stopped talking.

Stretching her stiff back, Chrysalis resettled herself on her rug and told her a matter-of-factly, picking up her brush, “I appreciate your concern, Cerci, but that won’t be necessary. It’s already been decided.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, we’re not going to bother with it, at all.”

The moment she said that, Cerci stepped back, as if she were a stricken filly. She became suspicious that Chrysalis was neglecting the filly’s education, somewhat understandable due to the filly’s ‘special needs’, but to dismiss it entirely, to not even try, was just shocking to the servant. Cerci stuttered, sounding utterly flabbergasted, “B-But Your Majesty, I... why?”

“We talked with her doctors,” Chrysalis answered apathetically like the whole matter was a triviality, while returning to her work. “They believe she’ll be overburdened if we force her to attend school. Personally, I can’t see any benefit in it, either.”

“Then... then what will she--”

“You’ll take care of her. You’ll make sure she’s fed, groomed and happy. That’s all there is to it.”

“But--”

Chrysalis snapped her head at Cerci, startling the servant, glaring intensely at her. She hissed acidly, as if challenging her, “Oh, I’m sorry, do you have a problem with the way I’m raising my own daughter, Cerci?”

She hung her head in defeat. “No, my Queen.”

“Good. Now get out.”

Although common sense told her it would have done no good and would most likely have resulted with her head on a pike, Cerci still could not shake off her guilt for not taking a stand against her Queen those years ago and allowing her charge to be effectively cast aside. Since that encounter, Pupa had not received a single day’s worth of education and it was most unlikely she ever would. Such indolence was normally not accepted of any member of the royal family, especially regarding education which, in a nation like theirs, was held with such great importance. But due to the circumstances the royal family found itself in, Pupa became an understandable exception.

In a way of making up for her perceived failure of duty, Cerci took it upon herself to teach Pupa some basic skills at least. She taught her the alphabet, how to use a quill and her beloved crayons and their biggest achievement, how to spell her own name. None of it was easy, but it was the least she could do for Pupa and sooth her own guilty conscious.

Finding herself, in her reminiscing, staring off into space in a trancelike state, Cerci shook her head and returned to finishing off her letter to her sister. It was meant to be short, telling her how everything was fine and asking how the family was, but it had taken nearly half an hour and by now, Pupa was done with her drawing and was getting antsy to go outside.

Just then, the door to the room suddenly and swiftly fwooshed open. Both changelings turned around in surprise to see a most unpleased matriarch standing in the doorway.

“Having fun?!” Chrysalis seethed through bared teeth, her anger towards the filly hardly concealed.

“Your Majesty,” Cerci dropped her brush, sprung up and bowed. “Whatever is the matter? Is there something--”

Chrysalis ignored her presence entirely, whipping out the defiled document and holding it up for them to see. “What do you call this?!” She asked her daughter, though not expecting an answer. Pupa only gawked at it, having no idea what to make of it.

“Um, I believe it is a cat, Your Majesty,” Cerci offered.

“Shut up, Cerci!” she snapped viciously at her and marched over to Pupa, practically shoving the document in her face. “You’ve been drawing on my papers again! Admit it!”

When you put them together, Pupa was definitely the spitting image of her mother. They shared the same mane, the same coat and even the same monstrous malformed spire protruding out their foreheads. If one was given a photograph of Chrysalis during her fillyhood and one of Pupa to compare, they would find it difficult to distinguish them, if not for the obvious physical deformities in the current Princess’ appearance.

Pupa crumpled like a paper bag under the weight of her mother’s anger. She looked away from the doodles riddling the paper and down at her hooves ashamedly, making a pathetic whimpering noise.

Taking that for a ‘yes’, and after double-checking with the doodles on the table, Chrysalis slammed the document on the table top. “These are my documents! You don’t draw on my documents, they’re mine! Do you understand?!” The filly kept her head buried, which only angered Chrysalis further, who then took her chin in her hoof and yanked her up. “Pupa! Are you listening to me!?”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean to--”

“I told you to shut your mouth!” she then whirled back on Pupa, getting up in her face. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Pupa whimpered some more and nodded, getting visibly more and more upset. A normal filly was likely to understand the severity of the situation, but Pupa was not a normal filly. She knew her mother was very angry with her, but her tiny mind could not wrap around why. She drew doodles all the time and it was only paper. Mother should not yell at her. It terrified her when she yelled.

She curled up again and mumbled something incoherent, the closest thing she could form to an, ‘I’m sorry’.

“Oh, you’re ‘sorry’? You’re sorry?! Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me in my meeting, young lady?!” Chrysalis snarled and grabbed her by the shoulder, raising her own hoof threateningly like she was about to smack the quivering Pupa. “Do you want me to beat you? Is that what you want?!”

“Your Majesty! Wait!”

Chrysalis’ hoof froze in mid-air and dropped back to the floor. “Ugh...” She slowly pivoted her head at the mere peasant and disguised her annoyance with a faux sweet smile. Instead of berating her for speaking out of turn again, she decided to indulge her. “Yes, Cerci? What would you like to say?”

Cerci already knew the risk of what she was about to do, but the last thing she wanted was for the Princess to suffer the consequences of her mother’s wrath. The poor thing did not understand.

She took in a deep breath, bracing herself and explained calmly, “Please do not be mad at her, my Queen. She does not know any better. She had no idea what they were. I am responsible for her, so it is my fault.”

“Is that right?” she sneered doubtfully.

“Yes. Please, allow me to be the changeling who is punished.”

At first, nochangeling said anything, until Chrysalis shrugged and said plainly, “Alright...” She released Pupa and walked over to Cerci with the calmest expression on her face. She looked her up and down, and in a blink of an eye, pulled back her hoof and rammed it right into Cerci’s muzzle.

The tiny Princess gasped in horror, but Cerci just stood there and took it, even straightening up for the Queen’s expected second blow. This time, it was right to the mouth, nearly sending her off her hooves and any harder, would have knocked out one of her fangs.

Finished, Chrysalis calmed herself down, steadying her breath and blowing a strand of mane from her face.

“Much better,” she finally said, sounding positively refreshed, though retaining her hard expression. “I think that’s fitting enough punishment. You’re forgiven, Cerci.” She turned around and walked towards the door. When she passed her daughter, who was still petrified by what transpired, her icy gaze softened a bit and she mechanically petted her on the head. “You’re forgiven too, Pupa.”

Before she left the room, Chrysalis turned to Cerci one more time and said, “I have a briefing to get to in two hours. At least try to keep her out of my mane for that long, Cerci. I do not need her distracting me anymore today, understood?”

Bright green blood trickled from Cerci’s muzzle and mouth, but she kept it covered with the back of her hoof. “Yes, ma’am,” she answered, though she was clearly in pain.

The Queen left the room without another word to either of them. Pupa sat there on the chair, an utterly horrible new feeling eating away at her internally. She loved her mother very much but she managed to make her angry at her, and now Cerci was probably going to be angry at her, too. It was enough to finally bring tears flooding from her eyes.

Cerci was quick to spot this and, covering her bleeding muzzle with her silk hoofkerchief, she went over to the small table to console her.

“Shhhh. It’s okay, sweetie, it wasn’t your fault,” she hushed, taking her into a tight embrace. “Please, don’t cry.”

Pupa mumbled into her shoulder, repeating her heartfelt ‘I’m sorry’.

It tore Cerci’s heart to see her normally happily filly distraught. As a nanny, it was hard not to get attached to your charge, going to lengths of loving them as your own. How could her own mother yell right in her cherub’s face, or even raise an angry hoof against her? She knew Pupa would always love her mother more than she ever would her, and that only made Chrysalis’ harsh treatment more painful to watch. Did Pupa do something wrong? Of course, but with no malicious intent, like a dog chewing on its master’s slippers. Could she be self-centred and impertinent? Sometimes, yes. But spiteful? Never.

The problem was how to explain and justify it all to a young filly with her condition.

She gave it her best shot. “Your mother’s... just really stressed. She doesn’t mean to be so mad all the time; it’s just that she has a lot to deal with. The kingdom has got a lot of problems. But it will get better, I promise.” Cerci held her so they made direct eye contact. Pupa raised her hoof to touch the blood stained hoofkerchief in concern, but Cerci pushed it down and held her close to her chest. “Don’t touch it. It’ll heal. I’ll be alright. Everything will be alright, I promise.”

The Princess relaxed in her nanny’s embrace, drinking in the warmth and feeling reassured by her soothing words. Cerci took the liberty of dabbing up her tears with the unstained parts of her hoofkerchief.

She was honestly not sure how Pupa got a hold of her mother’s documents and drew over them without her knowledge. It was possible she did it when she went off crawling around the palace when Cerci had to perform other duties and leave one of the less attentive nannies in charge of her, who often gave Pupa something to do and left her to her own devices. One time, Pupa went missing for hours, but they eventually found her in an open closet, chewing on a mop. Rest assured, that nanny found herself suffering the full consequences.

“Come on, let’s get you wrapped up and we can go outside and have some fun,” she gently whispered in Pupa’s ear as she got up and this time, placed Pupa on her back to carry her about, making her look an awful lot like the creatures of old who were said to ride on top of equines for transport. “I hear the protection spell has kept a lot of the garden plants alive and pretty.”

Pupa responded by wrapping her good right foreleg around Cerci’s neck and nuzzled into her lavender mane, making an infantile cooing sound as the two exited the room. She was so glad to have Cerci around to care for her and keep her safe, even from her mother’s anger. Cerci would always be there for her, no matter what.

Although she no longer felt so guilty for Cerci’s injury, Pupa still felt bad about how much she had upset her mother. She wanted to make it all better, but how? But as nanny and filly got changed and made their way to the gardens, she already began thinking of just the plan to make things right. Who knows? Maybe she could even make her mother smile for once...

Out of the hundreds of rooms and apartments making up the palace, there were a hooffull strictly for the Queen’s use. One such room was her private bathroom located in the sublevels of the palace, specifically designed to meet her lofty standards in pampering and refreshment. It also served as a means of secluding herself from the sources of her headaches.

The room differed greatly from the others in its brightly coloured interior design. Flowing rose and pink fabrics hung from the ceiling and draped across the walls to the floor, removing the edges from the square room. Said walls and floors were slabs of solid black rock each polished to a mirror surface and inlaid with gold floral designs. Smack-dab in the centre was the large circular steaming hot onsen pool surrounded by a collection of multicoloured candles. A team of hoofmaidens, attendants, groomers and masseuses stood at attention in a row before the onsen, all sporting dazzling brightly coloured manes with matching pretty eyes.

“Queen Chrysalis, welcome,” the head servant, who sported a neatly done emerald green mane addressed her as they all bowed. “The onsen is ready for your use.”

“Good.” Chrysalis stared down at the kimono draped around her body, before very reluctantly and slowly slithering herself out of it and giving the tiny crown on her head to a servant who placed it on a silk cushion. The sudden rush of cool air against her body made her fur stand on end and goose bumps formed on the skin. She kept her legs close together and held her head high to maintain her superior disposition in front of these insectoid mares.

In the last several years, Chrysalis did not like other changelings seeing her without a kimono on, as opposed to her youth when she showed off her stunningly gorgeous body to be marvelled and drooled over by every stallion within a thousand miles. It was not that she had grown prudish; she enjoyed the attention of stallions and the control she had over them. The reason was that her beauty had faded before its time.

Chrysalis had gained weight and it showed in the belly that hung between her legs like it was carrying bricks and strained her carapace. Her legs were fatter as well, concentrated in the thighs and hindquarters. Worse still, her body was marred by pale stretch marks around the thighs, hips and belly. Her face and mane also suffered; there were more premature lines than she could count beneath her cavernous eyes that were not just caused by lack of sleep and her mane was really beginning to thin, meaning she could not wear it long for much longer.

Without hesitation, Chrysalis climbed into the onsen and allowed herself to be engulfed to the neck up by the relaxing hot spring water, her breath shuddering as she did. She leaned her head and dipped her mane in the water, then pulled it to let it rest all together on her shoulder. Meanwhile, the servants scurried about the room, preparing the furniture and equipment. Chrysalis watched them for the next five minutes through narrowed envious eyes; flouting their slim and slender bodies like the little harlots they were. She could only think of how much they starved themselves or make themselves sick to get those perfect hourglass figures, or all the action those tramps got from the palace guards.

“Your Majesty?”

She looked up to see one of them standing over her. “Yes?”

“We’re ready for you, now. If you’re ready...”

“Five more minutes,” she murmured, sinking deeper into the pool. Her muscles had not fully relaxed in the water yet. She regretted it five minutes later when she became so accustomed to the onsen that, like always, she had to get the servants to practically pull her out.

Out of the onsen, a quick flick of her horn casted a drying spell on the changeling Queen. Her servants guided her over to a bed, which she climbed onto and carefully laid on her belly, head in her hooves and wings sprawled lazily to her sides. They were to begin with a massage to relief any remaining stress and tension, which they found a lot of.

“My Queen, you are carrying so much tension,” stated the lead masseuse who was working her shoulders.

“I haven’t noticed--gah!!” she muttered sarcastically and suddenly cringed when a surge of pain shot up her spine.

The masseuses ceased what they were doing and one asked, concerned, “My Queen, what is wrong?”

Chrysalis forced a hoof behind her to point out the source of the problem. “My back...” she grunted, the pain subsiding. “I’ve been having problems with my back for days now.”

“Oh, Your Majesty, you should have told us,” the lead masseuse said sympathetically, her and the others fearing repercussions. “I assure you, we’ll be more gentle.”

“Just around my back,” she responded firmly, raising her head to them momentarily. “I still want the full treatment.”

As they got right back to work, Chrysalis could not fully relax, despite their best efforts. She could not see them, but imagined perfectly how they were sneering behind her back, mocking her for the old mare she now was. Her excessive weight; the unsightly stretch marks; the loose folds of skin on her aching back and everything about her testifying how obsolete she was compared to the younger, prettier models. It filled her with so much self-loathing it was going to give her another bad case of indigestion.

When the massage ended, her limbs felt like rubber. They readjusted the bed into a chair to allow the Queen to sit up in a reclined position while they continued the rest of the royal treatment. The groomers took the lead, with one brushing the cerulean mane (and then the tail which dropped out through the space beneath the backrest) with firm but never rough strokes while the others busied themselves with the knots or gently trimming the mane to a reasonable length. The hoofmaidens levitated the heavy files to give her a much needed hooficure and sharpened her fangs and enormous dulled horn, the latter of which sent a tingling sensation through her skull. To top it off, a facial, complete with huge tubs of facial cream.

“How did it come to this?” she suddenly asked of a hoofmaiden who was hovering over her, filing her horn.

“My Queen?”

“Look at me...” Chrysalis sighed heavily, looking over herself with melancholy eyes. “I’m hideous.”

The servants grimaced. They were all rehearsed with how to deal with the Queen whenever she got like this, but that did not make it any less unbearable.

“No, my Queen, no,” the same hoofmaiden assured her with a weak smile, resuming the horn filing. “Don’t talk nonsense. You are the definition of changeling beauty.”

Chrysalis scoffed at this meagre compliment and went on to deride herself. “I used to turn every stallion's head within a hundred miles. Look at me now.”

The head servant who oversaw the team tried to reason, “You have a filly--”

“How many do you have?”

“... eighteen.” Even the other servants had to stop at her statement and do a double take. Even by changeling society standards, that was a lot, and by the creator above, she looked fantastic! That small midsection of hers was a testament to that.

Chrysalis blinked and her ear twitched, the pale green facial mask only serving to make her blank expression appear comical.

“That’s it. You. Get me my bowl,” she ordered the attendant closest to her.

She looked very reluctant. “Your Majesty, the doctors say it really isn’t--”

“Are you disobeying a direct order from your Queen?”

“Of course not--”

“Then get-my-bowl!”

The attendant flew off and returned seconds later, carrying a large bowl made of the same polished black rock as the floors and walls in her hooves, containing a long black feather.

All the other servants backed off as Chrysalis took the bowl and levitated the feather in front of her tilted back head. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she opened her mouth as wide as possible and stuck the feather deep into her throat. She immediately withdrew the feather as she retched violently and threw her head forward to vomit into the bowl. She repeated the process twice, before collapsing against the backrest to catch her breath until the royal treatment resumed. One attendant gave her some water to rinse and spit into another bowl.

Self-induced vomiting was nothing new amongst changeling high society. Although experts had outlined in the detail the health detriments outweighing the benefits, it had still not fully died out. It made their Queen feel better, so no changeling tried to stop her.

“What colour would you like your hooves, Your Majesty?” asked a maid who knelt down and took out a wooden vial rack of hoof polish of many colours.

“Black, as usu--what happened to your eye?” Chrysalis did not notice it at first, but the maid was sporting an unsightly black eye, which the latter unsuccessfully hid behind a red mane strand.

“My eye? Oh, my... uh, my husband did it, my Queen.” Her overly wide toothy smile and the way she stammered and her eyes shifted told she was lying. “It was my fault. I put on a dress he didn’t like.”

Lifting her limp hoof, she pushed the attendant’s mane away and examined the inflicted area like a caring mother would do her child. “Really? If that’s the case, you must be married to an eight-year-old filly. Tell your Queen the truth.”

“... Princess Pupa did it this morning, when I was trying to dress her.” She added quickly, “It was still my fault, though. I wasn't being gentle enough--”

“That filly...” A deep growl rattled her vocal cords, feeling the tension return and a pulse on the side of her head. She motioned the maid to get to work whilst she brooded. Just thinking of her daughter at the moment and how she made a mockery of her cabinet meeting was enough to boil her green blood. “You won’t believe what she did to me, today...”

It was not the first time Pupa’s childish antics caused Chrysalis embarrassment in front of her subjects and thinking about today only made her recall other incidents she would sooner forget. There was, for just one of many examples, Pupa’s first and last military parade, where half a million soldiers in the changeling military took part in a traditional march through the capital city to celebrate the country’s military might and its pride. It was a tradition for the royal family to oversee the parade on the balcony of the palace as the faces of the nation. However, it did not go as swimmingly as hoped when the then very young Pupa was brought out. Within minutes, Pupa became so frightened by the scene before her and the deafening sounds of military drums and music that she started crying, loudly. Cerci could do nothing except to quietly comfort her, "Don't cry, it'll be over soon”, until a repulsed Chrysalis gave them her permission to leave. Chrysalis was so ashamed and disgusted with her daughter’s apparent show of weakness that she barred her from attending future military events.

It was easy for a common changeling or pony to denounce Chrysalis as cold and unnecessarily harsh in her treatment of Pupa, but from her perspective, she only held her to the same expected standards her own parents did, regardless of disability. For the future ruler of their country and its people and defender of their traditions, softness could not be afforded. If anything, Chrysalis was doing her a favour. The problem, as she saw it, was the incessant mollycoddling by that idiot nanny of hers.

“I’m seriously considering replacing that moron Cerci...” the moment she said, nearly everychangeling else’s ears pricked up.

“Really, Your Majesty?” The head servant smirked, flicking her mane back and putting her hooves together. “Well, I would not call that an unwise decision, my Queen, given her sheer display of incompetence. There are those much more deserving of such an important position.”

Chrysalis did her best to hide her amused grin. She expected this. Cerci was not so popular with the lower ranking servants in the palace, holding a position of which many of them felt they were more deserving. Whilst she was toying with the idea of replacing Cerci, it was low on her list of priorities, and it was far more fun watching these opportunistic mares grovelling at the idea of themselves receiving the job, that and indulging their hopes for her own amusement.

“Like you?”

She beamed at that, probably thinking the opportunity of a lifetime was right in front of her. “Well...” she flicked her mane again and placed her hoof over her chest proudly. “I’m certainly not one to toot my own horn, but being a mother of eighteen, I think--”

Snip. That small, sharp cutting sound brought the whole room to silence. Chrysalis looked physically stunned when an entire severed lock of her beautiful cerulean mane fell past her face and onto her lap. The groomer responsible, who was just trying to trim her fringe, dropped the scissors she was levitating to the stone floor with a loud clatter. Everychangeling else stopped what they were doing, all of them gasping and holding their hooves to their mouths in horror and taking more than two steps back. But while they looked horrified, the groomer in question looked as if she were ready to drop dead, with the dark grey literally draining from her face.

Chrysalis picked the thick lock up in her hooves, staring down at it with an expression conveying neither anger nor upset. It was the lock that traditionally always draped over one side of her face.

What seemed like eternity passed until Chrysalis spoke. “You cut off my favourite lock.”

The groomer collapsed to her knees and burst into tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, Your Majesty, I-I didn’t mean to!” She begged for mercy, burying her face in her hooves. “I didn’t mean to!” She was the youngest changeling in the room, barely out of her adolescence and shared the head servant’s emerald mane, if not a lighter shade.

The head servant stormed over and slapped her hard across the face if just to shut her up. “YOU STUPID MARE!” she shrieked, going green in the face. “Look at what you've done now!”

“I’m sorry, mother, I--”

She slapped her again, twice as hard and lifted her by a clump of her mane. “Can’t you do anything right, you clumsy idiot!?”

“That’s enough.” All eyes turned to Chrysalis, who now looked calm and serene. She pointed at the groomer and motioned her forward, “Come here, my dear.”

The head servant threw her daughter forward in revulsion, who landed belly-first on the black stone floor. She picked herself up and scrambled to her Queen’s side and got back on her knees, still blubbering for forgiveness like the pathetic grub she was.

“I’m so, SO sorry, my Queen! Please don’t have me executed! I’ll do better, next time, I--”

Chrysalis could not bear hearing this changeling mare’s nauseating grovelling apologies. She put her hoof over her mouth, and hushed her soothingly. “Shhhh, young one. I know you are.” The Queen chuckled a bit and patted her cheek. “Why would I ever have such a... young, beautiful head likes yours put on a pike?” She glanced over the young groomer’s hooves and said, “Give me your hooves.”

Whimpering, she did as she was told and let her Queen caress her small, soft hooves.

“You have really pretty hooves, my dear...” Chrysalis kept her smile, though her envious eyes betrayed her. The smile slowly turned into a deep, hateful frown, until...

CRUNCH!

With the flash of a movement, the Queen drove her fangs deep into the groomer’s hooves, shredding through the fur and flesh like tissue paper. The younger mare screamed in agony and collapsed to the floor on her back, holding her hooves as green blood gushed from the wounds like a fountain.

Chrysalis licked the dripping blood from her fangs and dropped back against the backrest contently. “Take her away and have her stitched up,” she ordered uncaringly, to which the head servant obeyed, dragging her daughter out of the room like a bag of rubbish. “The rest of you, I don’t believe you’re finished.” Just as they were about to do so, she queried, “Oh, which one of you was doing my fangs?”

“I was, my Queen,” replied one attendant, holding up her file.

She licked the blood stained fangs once more and smirked, “Good job.”

Chapter Thirteen

Maternal Instinct

Chapter Thirteen

“Cerci... I know how you must feel about seeing me here...”

Cerci still did not say anything to her. She just sat back down where she was, facing her back to the Queen, head dropped and gazing wistfully into her lap. To Chrysalis, it looked as if she were meditating, but there was an underlying anger surrounding her as patent as the dirt clotting her mane.

‘Well, this is going as swimmingly as I thought.’ Right now, she really wished she had the power of telepathy, or at least the ability to see her face, if just to have some idea what the mother was thinking. Her persistent silence was disconcerting: she even would have preferred her to leap across the cell in a try to reach through the bars and punch her.

“And I figure you probably have nothing more to say to me.” She nursed her jaw, which started aching from the memory of the blow. “You made that clear at the hospital. All I’m asking is that you listen.”
No response. All she caught was the glint of the younger mare’s eye as she turned her head ever so slightly.

“Cerci?”

“What?”

To Chrysalis’ surprise, she did not sound angry; if anything, she sounded mildly irritated, like a parent whose foals had been pestering her. At least it was something.

“Well? Spit it out, Chrysalis. I wanna get back to sleeping on the wet floor.”

It took a changeling with the rawest nerve to contradict their Queen, and with suicidal tendencies if they dared talk to her with any less dignity and respect they would to the Kami. Cerci had done that twice now and she was still drawing breath.

And this was a mare who had spent her whole life, her precious youth working her hooves to the bone for her and the rest of the royal family. Not only that: along with all the other servants, she constantly lived with the knowledge that one misstep would result in strict punishment. Looking at her now, Chrysalis had to hoof it to her how far she had come from a submissive little changeling born into a life where being treated like a doormat was all that was expected of her.

“Cerci, the truth is, I’ve come here because…” Chrysalis braced herself and drew a long breath before finishing, “I want to apologize.”

An all too expected scoff came from within the cell.

Leaning against the cold, rusty bars to give her support, she heaved a sigh, “I’m sorry, Cerci. I’m so sorry and I’m ashamed of everything I’ve done...”

“How nice,” Cerci deadpanned. “Apology not accepted, please go away.”

Chrysalis flinched. She knew this was going to be far from an easy task, but give her some credit; it was not like she was brought up being expected to apologize for anything.

“Cerci, please,” she groaned, running her hoof through her own untidy mane. I’m trying as hard I can here.”

“I do not care,” was her curt reply. She rose from her spot with a severe unsteadiness brought about by her ordeal. “Your ‘apology’ means nothing to me, Your Majesty.”

When she slowly turned around and their gazes met, Chrysalis had to force herself to look her former servant in her eyes; they shimmered behind thickening walls of tears in the darkness. Her pain and blistering hatred was etched on her paled, tear-stained face and spoiling her natural beauty.

Uncontrollable shivering wracked her exhausted body and her icy voice wavered above a whisper, “Nothing you say will ever make this okay!”

"I..."

“No,” Cerci shambled her way to the bars so she could see her in the light. She walked with the mien of a wretched old beggar mare prowling the streets of one of her city. “Do you know what you’ve done to me? You’ve destroyed everything I loved!”

Chrysalis craned her neck in shame. “I... I know.” All the anger and hatred radiated off Cerci like a hunk of red hot steel, threatening to burn her alive from the inside unless she unleashed it.

“I loved that filly so much and...” she cowered in a shivering ball on the floor, head hidden in her legs. “And you stole her from me!” Chrysalis made out the pitter patter of tears hitting stone.

It felt like barbed wire was coiled and tightening around the Queen’s heart. Hesitantly, she slid her leg through the bars, but the instant her hoof touched the mess of a mane, Cerci reacted as if a stray dog bit her.

“Don’t! Touch me!” She spent minutes sobbing her heart out, until she finally forced herself to lift her head and stare pitifully at her through her matted locks. “Why? Why did you do this to us?!”

“I’m so sorry, Cerci.” The broken matriarch stressed it that she meant every word and tried her best to console her again, stroking her trembling hoof with care. “I don’t think I can say it enough. I’ve been awful to both of you... but please, I want to do all I can to fix this.”

“‘F-Fix it’?” she chuckled mirthlessly as she wiped her face with her sleeves. “You think... you can fix this, Chrysalis?” Her face then contorted into the most hateful, venomous scowl her anger would permit and she hissed, “You can’t fix it, you idiot! Pupa’s dead, you hear me? She’s dead!”

“No, she’s—”

“I don’t want to hear it! I'm done with you and all your lies! Now get out of here and leave me alone!”

Cerci tried to kick her away again, but the Changeling Queen would not take it any longer. With a determined glare, her entire body came aglow and effortlessly materialized itself through the bars.

“Enough!” She magically lifted Cerci to her eye-level and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Cerci, Pupa isn’t dead!”

Those three words knocked the fury right out of Cerci like wind from a blow to the gut, and she stared stupidly back at her with her jaw slightly dangling open.

“... w-what?” she squeaked.

Chrysalis inhaled heavily through her nostrils, set her down on her haunches, and made sure to cool her own engines down first before she continued, “She’s woken up and she’s going to be okay... okay? This is what I’ve come here to tell you.”

Cerci, however, appeared lost her in her own little world as she processed what she was being told. Her eyes swivelled madly left and right, her hooves bearing the weight of her head that suddenly felt heavier than a block of lead.

“Wher-where is she?!” she demanded abruptly, standing upright on her legs and holding her head high. Her whole body had reanimated itself like she received a booster shot of adrenaline.

“Still at the hospital. The staff is taking care of her—” She was interrupted again, this time when Cerci attempted to throw herself past her. She magically snagged her by the tail and dragged her right back to her spot.

“I want to see her!” she whined, struggling pathetically against her Queen’s infinitely superior magic. “Please, Chrysalis, let me go to her!”

“You will,” said Chrysalis as she took her by her grub-soft cheeks. “I promise you’ll be the first to see her, but there’s something I need to discuss with you first. I...” She bit her lip as she struggled to find the right words. “I would very much like for you to return to the palace. As Pupa’s nanny.”

Cerci was rendered speechless. Mutely, she analysed her features, searching for any inflection of sarcasm or deceit as if with a fine-tooth comb. All she saw instead was the fatigue of a mother who had truly been through Tartarus in these last few days.

“You’re serious?”

“I wouldn’t ask any other changeling in the whole kingdom for the job.”

She dropped her head, murmuring, “I... I can’t.”

Chrysalis was genuinely taken aback by that. “W-What are you talking about?” she gaped. “Why in the world not?!”

“Because after everything that’s happened, how do you honestly think everything can go simply back to the way it was?!” she snapped incredulously. She was now pulling on her mane extremely hard, like she wanted to tear it all out. “You almost killed your own daughter and you just expect me to forgive and forget? Well, fat chance of that happening! I can never forget nor can I never forgive you for what you did!” Fresh tears coursed down her cheeks as her voice cracked and her words tumbled over themselves. “It… It should never have happened, Chrysalis, not to an innocent filly like her! What possessed you to do such a… sick, evil thing, Chrysalis? What in your mind made it so right to strike down a hatchling who has done nothing but try to get you to love her?!”

Naturally, the Queen faltered as she searched for some kind an answer. The best she could come up with was a pitiful response, “I… I don’t know, I… was just so stressed.” By now, she was finding it excruciatingly difficult to look Cerci in the eye and suddenly found the filthy floor very interesting to study.

“That it?” Cerci sneered, rolling her eyes almost amusedly at her pathetically lame excuse. “How typical…”

“No,” she wiped a layer of sweat from her sticky forehead. “I… I can’t explain it, Cerci. I really wish I could.” In the back of her mind, she recalled seething back pains; her rump and waistline ballooning like a bloated tick; popping pills like candy; meeting after meeting about armies, hundreds of thousands of emigrating changelings, and the kingdom’s infrastructure’s slow, inevitable collapse. She only wanted to put her static thoughts to syllables. “All I know is something inside me... snapped— I-I,” she swallowed hard, “And I took it all out on Pupa when she was only trying to apologize for something so trivial.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember?” Chrysalis used her magic to make a folded piece of paper poof out of thin air. It was creased and worn already, having endured much in its short time in the possession of the shattered queen.

Cerci eyed it with curiosity as she inhaled deeply, still panting from the exertion from her rant, “What is it?”

Chrysalis silently proffered it to her and when she unfolded the paper, she gasped, hiding her mouth behind her hoof. It was Pupa’s little ‘SORY’ picture, the one which featured mother and daughter frolicking happily together and basking in the sun. The one she must have been drawing that dreadful night to make amends after she doodled on her mother’s documents. Cerci shifted with widening eyes from the drawing to Chrysalis, then to the drawing again, and finally, back to her.

“You have no idea how much I’ve cried over that,” Chrysalis’ expression and the tone in her voice were now both void of emotion, and yet Cerci could still sense the broken heart within the queen.

“Why are you showing me this?”

“You don’t want to forgive me, Cerci? Fine, I can live with that,” she stated, shrugging her shoulders defeatedly. “But you must believe me when I say I’ll hold this shame for the rest of my life, whether Pupa forgives me or not, and I am going to use everything in my power to right my wrongs. Now, I don’t expect you to do any of this for me, but…” She cleared her throat, trying to see into the disheveled mare’s eyes, her own begging. “But I know you would do it for that filly who needs you just as much you need her.” She placed both hooves on her remarkably thin shoulders, pleading with her, “... Please, Cerci.”

For the longest time, the ex-servant remained in deep thought, hold the picture close to her chest and refusing to meet her eyes while the Queen stood there and waited. When she lifted her head up, her thin lips worked their way into the faintest of smiles.

Minutes later, the jailer mare was beckoned back to the cell and instructed to fetch her keys.

Princess Celestia did not imagine herself walking the hallways of the changeling palace in this generation or the next. The last time she was here was during the reign of King Thorax when relationships between their countries were much more cordial and low-key. His daughter had done little redecorating since her ascension to the throne; her photographic memory recognized many of the same tapestries and pictures as before still hanging from the walls.

‘I can tell they still haven’t done anything about that smell.’ She wrinkled up her muzzle, the smells of old dust and what she assumed was mould sticking to the back of her throat.

Following her departure from Chrysalis, the Princess took to roaming the palace while the former went off to take care of her family business. It was better than going back to her guest room (which had not seen a proper dusting in years) where the only thing to read was obscure changeling poetry. She had done enough to help; the rest was up to Chrysalis.

The changeling guards who patrolled outside her room insisted that if she was to have her little tour around the palace, it was essential she had an escort go with her. However, with a simple glow of her horn, suddenly the guards found they could make an exception and let her be on her way.

She turned a corner, which she initially thought unremarkable, until she saw the neat row of ornate picture frames on the left-hoof wall. In the dark, it was harder to make the images out, but she soon deducted them as portraits of the royal line of changeling queens and kings. A smile appeared on her lips as she walked past them one-by-one. Seeing all these old, familiar faces was a trip down memory lane for Celestia.

Queen Mayfly was the first following the Scaragowa Shogunate’s collapse, young and emboldened by her new political power but also ready to begin first stages of the Equestrianization of the Changeling Kingdom. There was also the fearsome Kuwagata with all his mighty armies and his dream of building his empire. And then there was Cocoon II, a wise and accomplished Cocoon whose reign was, many historians concurred, was too short for the changelings’ good.

With each passing portrait, Celestia observed with a certain sense of sobriety how more and more sickly and weak the royal changelings appeared, and it created this ill feeling in the pit of her stomach.
'
The generations of inbreeding were taking their toll; the ancient Roachanov bloodline was wearing down to an inevitable trickle. So much was riding on that filly recuperating in the hospital, for as Chrysalis’ only child, she was the only living Roachanov eligible for the throne, as changeling customs dictated. If Pupa failed to bear an egg, a prospect that seemed likely, or worse died, died before she ascended the throne, one of the oldest dynasties in the world could very well be in its dying throes.

As she stopped at the end of the hallway, she sighed, taking a moment to mourn for her old comrades. She rested her hoof on the last golden frame and looked upon its likeness and frowned.

King Thorax Roach, father of Chrysalis, grandfather to Pupa. There was not a lot Celestia had to say to describe the blunt, high-hooved last changeling king other than that he was an unquestionable product of his time. He was brought up a stallion in a society where mares’ natural superiority was routinely drummed into his head, which alone did not do wonders for a young colt’s developing sense of self-worth. But when you happened to heir to the throne as well... there were extra thick, award-winning books written on this literary goldmine.

It was Chrysalis, she understood, who suffered in her upbringing from the extremely high expectations passed down from him. However harsh it may sound, the mare Chrysalis grew up to become was no shocking outcome at all. Perhaps even more cruel, had Pupa not been born so mentally and physically stunted, she may very well have been subject to a similar fate.

‘That poor filly,’ she thought, lowering her head. ‘She never asked to be a part of any of this. Perhaps... it’s for her own good she can’t understand.'

A growl rumbled from her belly, echoing throughout the hall and causing her pristine white cheeks to flush crimson.

‘Well, at least nopony was around to hear that.’ Celestia sheepishly grinned after looking over her shoulder. She gave her belly a soothing rub and trotted off in search of the palace kitchen. ‘I could do with something to eat. I haven’t had changeling cake in a long time...’

It took her half an hour to find it in this labyrinth of a palace, not including the dozens of dead ends she encountered along the way. The infuriating quest for nourishment pushed her generous patience to the point she was actually considering burning a hole through the wall.

By the time she finally reached the kitchen, Celestia’s hunger was worse than on the morning of the National Dessert Competition in Canterlot, but she forgot all about that once she stepped inside and flicked on the lights.

“W... Wow.”

Celestia knew changelings, their nobility especially, were notoriously big eaters, but…

“Wow,” she simply repeated. There was enough space to fit an entire sweatshop’s worth of changeling orphans in here to cook for entire villages, not to mention more stove burners and knife racks than she could count. The royal kitchen of Canterlot Castle was nowhere near as excessively grand by comparison.

“Hello?” she called out for anychangeling who may be still be here cooking, scanning the area, but the only response she received was an echoed ‘Hello?’ back.

‘Maybe I should wait until they come back,” Her stomach roared furiously with defiance. ‘Well... I suppose they won’t mind too much if I helped myself to a sandwich.’

Getting down to work, Celestia searched the pantry and by some minor miracle, happened upon a large jar of pickles. She had no idea if they were sweet pickles or dill; there was only one way to find out. Humming to herself, she set about a minor expedition about the unfamiliar surroundings for other things with which to make a proper sandwich, complete with pickles, mayonnaise, mustard, and ooh, several kinds of cheese.

In the middle of her preparation, she caught a proper look of the set of carving knives lined up inches from her face. Something about them made her cringe. Many of them were very big and serrated sharp, enough to carve up a whole pony…

“I want you to take these turnips upstairs and store them in the fridge.” Celestia heard a mare’s irate voice coming from a small doorway in the corner of the room, one that led down a narrow staircase.

She froze where she stood, like a filly with her hoof caught in the cookie jar, listening to the sound of hoofsteps ascending the stairs and a downtrodden stallion speak, “Yes, ma’am.”

“And store them neatly this time.”

What the Alicorn saw shamble up the stairs and into the kitchen made her nearly dropped both jar and jaw. The stallion was not a changeling at all, but a pony.

The wretched fellow had the appearance of a dirty, emaciated prison inmate, the kind who lost the prime of his life behind bars. What’s worse were the self-evident signs of changeling love-draining, such as visible ribcage and cheekbones.

The crates he was carrying on his back fell off once he saw her and the turnips scattered over the floor. His already paled beige face turned as white as the surface of Luna’s moon.

“P-P-Princess Celestia?!” he spluttered, the presence of his peoples’ matriarch making him completely forget about his job.

There were not words to describe the awkwardness filling the air.

Down below the stairs, the changeling mare who was giving the orders was handling the other crates of vegetables when she heard the crash. Gritting her teeth and seething in frustration, she dropped what she was doing and stormed up the stairs with murder on her mind.

“Heavy Duty?! Heavy Duty!” she barked as she reached the doorway. “Heavy Duty, if you’ve broken something again, I am going to... tooo...” Her anger, along with her ability for to form cohesive words vanished upon coming face-to-face with a giant white Alicorn glaring down at her with her expression that made adamantly clear she was not pleased.

“Would somepony here like to tell me what’s going on?” she asked the unlucky mare in a voice so dark it made the unlucky mare shrink before her and feel like she was about to moult.

Cerci’s left you!

Nochangeling wants you!

Pupa writhed under her quilts, her little face strained with pain. Her little chest heaved up and down, constricted by the tight bandages. The fur of her face glistened in the dark from thick beads of sweat. The filly wanted to sleep some more, but the voices came back screaming in her ears soon after the doctors and nurses finished up and left her be. Now they were louder and meaner than ever before.

She mewled for attention, but was still so weak nochangeling outside her room could hear.

Nochangeling was going to come and that fact made her break down whimpering. What if they never came to fetch her and leave her here alone in the dark forever?

Feeling something breathing gently against her face, her peeled, misty eyes made out the weird red bird on the bed with her. It nuzzled her cheek with its smooth beak, but something about the bird’s presence was particularly soothing.

Pupa put her foreleg around the creature’s back, indulging in the incredible softness of its preened feathers. It reminded her of her love of freshly brushed manes, and one particularly memory back at the breakfast table when she spotted her cousin’s pretty and newly styled mane and she was overwhelmed by her desire to grab it all for herself. Then she remembered her mother’s disapproving glare...

Mother’s going to kill you!

“She’s in here. Just be gentle around her, she’s still in a fragile state.”

“I know how to handle her.”

She heard two grown-up changelings talking outside. One of them sounded familiar for some reason, enough to make her head roll over to look at the light emanating from the cracks.

The door opened and Pupa’s squinched her sensitive eyes shut from the light flooding the room. She heard hooffalls rapidly clicking against the floor tiles.

“Pupa?”

Her tired eyes sparked with life and her pupils dilated. That voice. She recognised it.

“Get away from her, you little—!”

Philomena cawed and took flight, narrowly dodging a magical bolt that singed a couple of her feathers, disappearing into the dark.

Cerci knelt down at the bedside, taking Pupa’s diddy hoof in her own and carefully scooping up the back of her head with the other.

The nanny, newly reinstated, was still very unkempt and undignified in her present state; having just been released from a changeling prison, she was at least relieved of that filthy uniform and given the chance of a decent washing.

“Baby?” she said with motherly tenderness dripping from her voice, restraining herself for Pupa’s sake. “Baby, it’s me. It’s Cerci!”

Pupa seemed confused for a second or two, but as her innocent eyes gazed up at her, recognition fully set in. The corners of her lips stretched out into the widest of smiles. Gurgling with excitement, she tried with all her strength to lift her bandaged legs and reach out to hug her.

Cerci smiled right back at the little hatchling, and with a surge of love and joy, gently scooped up the bandaged filly into her hooves, mindful of her injuries. She noted the wires, working expertly around them as she slid into the bed with Pupa, cooing softly. They snaked from the heart monitor, which reflected the filly’s excitement upon seeing her favorite nanny again.

“Oh, my little Pupa, I’m so happy you’re safe!” she planted a fat wet kiss on her forehead and wiped shedding tears from her own eyes as she very much engulfed the filly within her chest. “I—I thought I lost you!” After languishing for days in prison, being reunited with her young one overwhelmed her so much it felt like a balloon inflating within her stomach.

But as Pupa drunk in the cushy warmth of her beloved nanny’s hug, she felt her eyes spring a leak; she was remembering it now. All of it. Her mother… hurt her. Every harsh word and every heavy blow from her giant hooves felt fresh against her skin. Her quiet weeping quickly turned into full-blown sobs.

It was not something she could explain, but somehow, Cerci understood perfectly why she was crying without having to ask a word. Be it her maternal instinct, or because they had been together for so long that to her, Pupa’s gurgles and cries were a foreign language only she was fluent in.

She looked into her shimmering green eyes and ran her hoof over her cheek. “It’s okay, baby, d-don’t cry,” she shushed her in her own wobbling voice. “Please don’t cry. Everything’s going to be okay now. Cerci’s here, mommy has you...”

The Princess could only bury her head again in Cerci’s chest and cry louder and harder. The weight of Cerci’s guilt crushed her. She adjusted herself more comfortably in bed with her and pulled up the blankets, not loosening her grasp for a second.

“My poor baby, shh…” Slowly, she rocked Pupa back and forth, and with all her love gushing out of her like a waterfall, smothered her little hatchling with endless smooches. “I-I’m so sorry I left you alone, Pupa, I’m so sorry! Shhh!”

Pupa calmed down a bit and tearfully returned her kisses, which ended up getting long sticky trails of fresh dribble all over Cerci’s cheek. She paid no notice. All that mattered to her was making her darling happy again for the first time in days.

“Are you feeling better now, honey?” she asked after what felt like an eternity of undisrupted hugging and kissing. Pupa nodded, still snuffling, so Cerci gave her horn a flick. In a flash of light, a large stuffed ladybug toy appeared floating in mid-air. “Look, I’ve brought somechangeling for you.”

The sight of her favourite toy made Pupa squeal with delight and she greedily snatched it for herself, wiping her wet tears off on its freshly cleaned plush.

While Cerci silently observed their little reunion with adoration, a silent, sinking feeling came over her. The more she dwelt on it, it struck her just how close this all came to not happening.

‘Never again,’ she thought to herself determinedly beneath her smile. ‘I’ll never let you out of my sight again, Pupa, I promise.’

“... You’ve missed Lady, haven’t you?”

The filly opened her mouth and gave an exceptionally loud yawn; it was now time to settle down and catch some much-needed snoozes.

“Shut your eyes, Pupa, it’s time for night-night,” Cerci cooed and shuffled in closer when she began whimpering again. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

And so both nanny and filly curled up together and let their heavy eyes shut, the latter squeezing Lady and nuzzling into the crook of Cerci’s neck even farther. In their shared silence, Pupa did not even notice the bad voices had faded away. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor had taken their place.

“Do you want me to sing for you?” Cerci asked almost soundlessly into her ear. “Like I did when you were little? Would you like that, Pupa?”

“Mmm hmm.”

Cerci cleared her throat and began to sing in her dovish voice.

“Nennen korori yo, Okorori yo
Bōya wa yoi ko da, Nenne shina”

Pupa started sucking on Lady’s ‘head’ like a pacifier, and nodded her head rhythmically to the tune of her favourite hatchling lullaby.

“Bōya no omori wa, Doko e itta
Ano yama koete, Sato e itta”

Keeping one eye half open on her, Cerci gently massaged the foal’s back, tracing an oval pattern over her plush fur.

“Sato no miyage ni, Nani morotta
Denden taiko ni, Shō no fue”

Before long, the Princess, who had suffered so much for a changeling her age in only days, fell asleep against her carer’s bosom with the most serene of smiles on her face.

“I love you, darling,” was the last thing she heard before dreams overtook her. “And I always will.”

Author's Note

(A/N) Hello, everychangeling. Once again, I apologize for the excessively long wait, I don't blame you for being peeved, but I'm afraid writer's block is a real bane of my writing existence, that and I do have other writing projects I have to juggle. But hey, at least in this chapter, Pupa and Cerci are finally reunited and god, how I have waited a long time for this, simply because of how much I've wanted to write a happier Pupa again, after the hell she's been through in this story that's been going on for quite a while now. Anyway, I sincerely hope you liked it and that's provided you with the emotional catharsis you've been denied for so long. If not, that's okay, since we're all entitled to our opinions, and with any luck, the upcoming chapters will.

Ps. The lullaby Cerci sings to Pupa is the 'Edo Lullaby'. I don't think I can post it here, but go listened to it on Youtube. It's one of the most serene lullabies I've ever heard.

Pss. I will next be working on the next chapter of Citizen Weevil, as I take turns between stories, so in the meantime I'd strongly suggest you perhaps give it a read. It's my first full-on comedy.