“So, if you were killed, your Hivemind immediately saves a copy of your consciousness and grows a new body to house it? New brain and everything?”

Chrysalis got out of her half-bored slouch, cracking a grin. “Ah, finally, you’ve got it,” she drawled sarcastically. “Crystal Princess showing some smarts in that rocky cranium.”

Cadence readjusted her posture, effecting a hurt expression. “Being a university-educated psycho-biologist or whatever you want to call it—specializing in insects—isn’t a requirement for royalty.”

The amused smirk didn’t leave the queen, who simply shrugged. “Alright, alright, sorry.”

“So,” Franz began with folded arms, “Would it be a new queen, or the same... you?”

Chrysalis chuckled. “I wouldn’t know this story if it weren’t the same me. But I try not to think about it too much. This is my eleventh body in fifteen hundred years.”

She felt a certain smug warmth bloom within her as she beheld their wide-eyed stares. “Besides,” she continued, “it depends on how you define someone. Is Karl-Franz von Holswig-Schliestein a sack of organs in a suit of armor, or is he the mind within that thinks up that sack’s words?” She waved a hand, swatting the issue from the air like a gnat. “But let’s not get into metaphysics. We’re here on business, after all… if they’d show up.”

Chrysalis cast a glance to the empty Field of Marshals. The grass was still heavily matted from its previous use, ribbed with wagon tracks which had carried great stores of black powder and artillery. Chrysalis took a quick glance at the sun, indicating that it was about noon.

What in Tartarus is taking so long?

“They’re coming,” Franz cut through her thoughts. “You can’t be as precise as a clock just by gawking at the sun.”

“He’s right,” Cadence added. “Have patience. What do you make of the recent turns of events?”

Chrysalis scratched the back of her neck. Human flesh... how did they put up with this oily, dirt-collecting covering? Especially compounded by the thick leather coat of her female inquisitor disguise. And yet Franz had little more than a couple of beads of sweat on his brow while in his formal armor plate in broad daylight.

The queen clicked her tongue. “This... Fluttershy, for one,” she began. “She’s clumsy as a newborn behemoth, and she doesn’t know the true extent of her own strength. Something more permanent must be done about her; unscrew and take off her claws, maybe. Since her escape was so public, you’ll probably have to institute martial law in anticipation of riots. And we know full well she didn’t break out of her bonds because the scaffolds and chains were still fully intact. And she’s calm. That’s the most disturbing part. She flips back and forth like a manic-depressive.”

“It was clearly an operation of perfect precision,” Franz added. “The tent she was held under had one entrance and was guarded by over one hundred troops and five priests. Theres no way anyone could have snuck in, ground or air. Any guess as to who could do so? Twilight Sparkle, perhaps?”

Another click of the tongue. Chrysalis idly thought of how used she had gotten to not having a forked one. “Unlikely,” she replied. “If what I hear about that mare now is true, she’s just as large as Celestia, and possessed of a warp influence so strong that not even the ordinary soldiers guarding Fluttershy could have missed it, let alone the priests and other magic-users. The only way she could have gotten into that tent without being seen was to teleport, and that would have alerted every Warp-sensitive unicorn within thirty yards.”

Cadence hummed thoughtfully. “True… well, that doesn’t leave many other explanations. Between the soldiers keeping watch on the ground, the pegasi taking the air, and the magic-users scanning for disturbances, they had every angle covered except for—”

“—below,” Franz interrupted suddenly. He muttered a curse under his breath. “Do you think the Skaven could have been involved, somehow? They’re common enough in Middenheim.”

Chrysalis shook her head. “It’s possible, but too far-fetched for my liking. The Skaven care only for themselves and for their Warpstone. The only reason they would have to go on such a suicide mission is if they were promised a city’s worth of wealth. And it still doesn’t explain how Fluttershy was found coming out of the lake, halfway across the city...”

Her thoughts began to drift, from the realistic to the arguably fantastical; though experience had taught her to consider everything. There was a certain spirit of Chaos who could have managed such a delicate operation easily, if he had just the right motivation to do so. But he was cast in stone again a long time ago. Still, he could just walk in, or rather teleport. And one snap of the fingers later... She could picture his smug, shit-eating grin, a flash and crisp clap of his fingers—

—and then her eyes shot open with a splitting headache. The world before her spun out of focus, feeling like she was being tossed between massive hands, gravity shifting again and again at sickening speed.

She forced herself to blink again, dispelling the pain, but instead of seeing Franz and Cadence, all she saw was a wall of dirt. Ordinary, nothing-special dirt, freckled by a few pebbles. She quickly ascertained where her vision was—the south tunnel expansion of the Hive. A worker drone had paused in its labor, clapping its claws clean of soil.

’Sammik? What’s happening? Why did you stop?’

The worker was growling, deep and guttural at the unmoving wall, and Chrysalis could feel every part of him rearing up in tension.

Then the soil budged. A single pebble became dislodged and rolled to the bottom of the tunnel. Sammik took a step back as the soil gave way soon after, exposing the fuzzy snout and buck teeth of a bipedal rodent the size of a man on the other side, which stared back in sudden confusion.

A pang of fear and anger stabbed at Chrysalis’ heart. ’Sammik, kill!’

The last thing she saw was the changeling leap with a vicious screech at the rat. Chrysalis immediately became aware of a sharp buzzing that seemed to be hundreds of different voices chittering at once; the Hivemind had been alerted, and sent for another clutch of drones to help and, if necessary, collapse the tunnel.

Chrysalis blinked again, meeting two somewhat perturbed faces. “Are… you alright?” Cadence asked.

Define ‘alright’. Chrysalis had a leg-fell-asleep sensation, only all throughout her body. “I think so. Why do you ask?”

“You locked up for quite a while.”

Chrysalis immediately stood up “Well, I’m fine, and I need to lea- aah!” Her legs buckled and her head met the edge of the seat. Franz and Cadence jumped to help her up. “Aargh!” she burst out. “Where are the bodies, Franz?!”

He helped Chrysalis to her feet. “They’re already here. See for yourself.”

Dazed with her skull throbbing, Chrysalis nonetheless leaned on the railing of the bleachers and looked out. Down on the field was a moderate lineup. Some fifty-or-so men, some in disheveled prison fatigues, some in nothing but makeshift loincloths, all bound together in heavy iron chains, stood silent with their skulls baking in the sun. A troop of twenty guards held position around them in a perfectly symmetrical ring, facing inward with their spears upright at attention.

The welcome sight brought a relieved smile to Chrysalis’ face. “Oh, Franz, you shouldn't have.”

“And these were merely drawn from the city and the closest villages,” Franz said reassuringly. “There are nine more provinces that received the orders and will be rooting through their prisons for more.”

Nine more provinces. The thought of perhaps five hundred living batteries made Chrysalis’ heart skip a beat. “You might as well give me the engagement ring and be done with it,” she said slyly.

Franz chuckled. “Sorry. I’m taken.”

Chrysalis gave a slight, exaggerated sigh. “A pity,” she said languidly. Her expression then turned serious. “Still, I’ll be needing to return home, immediately. The Skaven are digging a tunnel that’s crossed with ours, and they’re sure to investigate. They may find our hive.”

“And you need to protect your subjects,” the Emperor nodded. “I understand.”

“You've seen the Skaven before, I take it?” said Cadence.

“Seen them?” Chrysalis scoffed. “I've fought them! I've told you of our wars with them. First it was just a little expedition here, then a skirmish there, and then an entire Skaven clan bore down on us. I saw their numbers from a high vantage point; there was no end to them. The whole land was a screeching sea of claws and blades.” Her expression darkened like a thundercloud. “So my subjects must return in kind. Already, the Hivemind is redesigning the combat-capable drones. They’ll be easy to hatch, and their very bodies will be recyclable within the hour of their death.”

Franz grunted in approval. “Then I hope that this,” he swept an arm out towards the assembled prisoners, “will aid you in turning the tide. Every man here in Middenheim would laud you as a hero for fighting so against one of our most hated mutual foes. But you look eager, and the clock is ticking, so we’d all best get on with it.”

He’s right about that.

Chrysalis could feel a bead of drool roll from the corner of her mouth; she could smell the lot down in the field from the stands. Most of them were blemished in one way or another; rapists, lustful deviants... but compared to feeding off of captured Slaaneshis, this was a lavish feast. Quickly wiping it off, she felt it disgraceful to lose composure like that. “Right, but they’ll need a morale boost for the march.”

Cadence quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, this ought to be interesting.”

Chrysalis’ mouth turned up in a smirk. Alright. Time for the game face.

She stepped out of the booth, walked a couple steps from the regal pair—and then her inquisitor’s disguise burst into verdant flames. She vaulted over the railing, and in the time it took her to reach the grass, she had already changed into a titanic black insect, twice the height of a man.

The reaction was both immediate and fairly typical.

“Daemon!”

“Monster!”

“Eat him, not me! NOT ME!”

A panicked chorus of screams and yells sounded out as the lineup scattered, with the prisoners floundering and falling on the ground due to the chains binding their legs together, and each to the man next to him. Chrysalis stifled a laugh; it was no less than slapstick. The encircling guards goaded them back into formation at spear point, though many still shook and whined as Chrysalis herself approached.

That is, until she raised her head high and chopped the air, undercutting their panic in a way Princess Luna would have been proud of.

“Enough!”

The force of her command cast the entire square into silence. The men abruptly stopped, and stared at her with widened eyes. Her countenance slowly shifted, giving way to a thin, imperious smile.

“That’s more like it.”

She walked before the now-silent and shivering group, slowly sweeping her gaze over them. Their fear was quite literally palpable, but she was looking for something else. Chrysalis finally stopped and squatted before one of them, tipping his head up to get a good look at his face. It was the face of an honest, but tested man, albeit terrified and on the verge of collapse; no evident scars or markings indicating a particularly troubled past.

“What was your crime?” Chrysalis asked simply, causing the man to gasp weakly. “Come, now. Speak up.”

“S-s-stole… food.”

Chrysalis made an affirmative hum. “How much?”

“...Umm…”

“Speak.”

The words tore themselves from his throat. “Twochickensandabreadbasket!”

Chrysalis smirked. “Was anyone else involved?”

The man lowered his head, keeping his mouth shut tight. Chrysalis huffed, took a quick sniff of him, and smiled. “Ah… a loved one.”

“Don’t you do anything to them!” he snapped, nearly lunging at Chrysalis, only to be stopped by his chains.

Them? the queen thought, unphased by his threat. “Oh, no, you needn’t worry. It’s you that I want.” Chrysalis parted her fanged jaws.

“She’s gonna eat ‘im liiiive! Ahahaha!” one of the prisoners howled in hysterical laughter. The oaken shaft of a guard’s spear silenced him with a thump to the gut.

The man before Chrysalis shut his eyes tightly, every part of him tensing up in expectation of pain. Typical. He looked like he was barely able to control his own bladder. But if what she was thinking of his words was the truth, then his ‘last thoughts’ would be of ‘them’. Perfect.

Chrysalis leaned forward slightly, her eyes going half-lidded, and began to feed. To a casual observer, it might look as though she were simply breathing deeply for a long stretch of time, but for the fact that a deep, pink mist was steadily beginning to rise from every pore of the man’s body. The trembling prisoner opened one eye, and Chrysalis nearly laughed at the expression of dumbfounded confusion on his face, like he couldn't decide which was more unbelievable: that he was still alive, or that the ephemeral cloud rising from his form was rushing straight into her open maw.

Ah, yes…

It was delicious. The man had nothing on Cadence, but he still possessed exactly the right kind of true love without malice. Just as she noticed his knees begin to buckle from the draining, she snapped her mouth shut. The ephemeral stream abruptly cut off, rushing straight back into the man’s body, causing him to jolt upright and blink like he had come out of a trance.

Chrysalis regarded him with a pleased grin, fangs bared and glistening. “Oh, you’ll do marvelously,” she crooned.

Perhaps I will sift through your memories, once we’re at the hive… find this lot you care so much for. I hope it’s a family; a wife, a little one. If we hook your pods together, merge you into the same dream, maybe we’ll get more output. It’s an experiment worth trying.

A silence fell upon the Field, as every pair of eyes in the group stared at her dumbly, with expressions ranging anywhere from fear to confusion to—oh, my, did that one wet himself? This will be fun.

She’s quite the character.

Franz idly tapped a finger against his seat as he watched the review of what was essentially livestock, now. His first thoughts when he had encountered Chrysalis and her changelings not so long ago had been of vampires; and the glistening fangs in every one of her smiles did not do much to dispel that notion. The idea of a creature who fed almost entirely on positive emotions had seemed preposterous even for him, and he shared a table with demigoddesses who could grasp the sun and moon as if they held hidden strings! He had gotten over his initial shock quickly, however—those who could not adapt did not last long in politics.

“How does it feel?” he asked offhandedly.

Cadence looked up at him curiously. “I’m sorry?”

Franz gestured out to the field, where the Queen of the Changelings had just finished with one prisoner and was moving on to another. Cadence followed his gaze, blinked, and then gave an ‘Ah’ of comprehension.

“Well…” she began uncertainly, “It’s like a tug, to put it in simple terms. Like something is grabbing hold of you from the inside—gently, mind you—and drawing from you what you didn't even know was palpable. It doesn't hurt, but it can leave you feeling tired if it goes on for too long all at once. I doubt she cares much for the welfare of some of the Slaaneshis and others that she’s been forced to feed on, though.”

Franz grunted in acknowledgement, inclining his head towards the alicorn. “It’s a good thing she has you for a friend, then.”

Cadence started, then lifted her head to meet his gaze with one of surprise. Her mouth opened, then closed, unable to find any words. Her expression turned contemplative, and she looked back to the black-clad figure beyond the stands without another sound.

Hmm… I wonder if I hit a nerve?

“Your Highness?”

Franz turned in his seat at the voice. One of his guards was blocking entrance to the booth to a changeling who looked particularly odd. His exoskeleton was not spiked or serrated, with no weaponized forelimbs or mutated appendages. Its eyes carried a worried look as if it was wondering if it had done something wrong.

“Let it in,” Franz said, waving it in with a hand.

The knight stood aside, and the changeling’s eye twitched slightly and it coughed. When it spoke, its voice sounded exactly like that of Chrysalis. “Karl Franz, this is the new Ditto,” it said. “He’ll be my surrogate to keep in contact with in my absence. Ditto, introduce yourself.”

His eye blinked, and he smiled and bowed low. “Greetings, your Highness,” came his humble, yet polished double-flanged tone. “It is an honor being the bridge between our heads of state in my queen’s place.”

Franz waved a hand. “Please, stand.” I wonder if the words it speaks are its own thoughts, or another part of its programming to tailor it for its task? That sort of thing is a sensitive subject for Chrysalis, though… “It is always good to know that there are still eyes and ears keeping watch.”

Ditto blinked again, his demeanor souring, then pointed out over the field. “Franz, look out here,” came Chrysalis’ voice, though harsher and more clipped than usual. “This one’s made a devil’s bargain.”

In Chrysalis’ claw, one of the prisoners squirmed and choked, kicking at the ground several feet from his soles. Chrysalis wore a most vicious scowl, looking about ready to crush his throat.

“We’re done with your kind,” she growled, then dropped him to the ground in a coughing heap. When he looked up, his eyes widened in terror as he beheld Chrysalis’ extended bone sabres. The razor-sharp blades swung down—but instead of cutting flesh, instantly severed the chains binding him to the next man over with a loud crang! The restraints fell to the ground, leaving only the manacles on his arms and legs.

“Take him back to the dungeons,” Chrysalis said to the nearest guard as she retracted her blades. “He’s the Inquisition’s problem.”

The disguised soldier took the man by the arm and led him away, while the rest went on. Chrysalis ignored the prisoner’s venomous shouting.

“He’s shown me what you do! How you treat followers of the Prince! You want love, you bug?! You cockroach! How about you suck my d—”

CRACK.

His head suddenly snapped a full one-hundred eighty degrees, and his body slumped to the grass in a lifeless heap.

Chrysalis took a deep breath, then released it in a steady, therapeutic sigh. She dispersed the emerald glow around her horn, then turned around languidly to gaze at the corpse with distaste. Wordlessly, the guard that had been accompanying him took both of its arms in a firm grip, then proceeded to drag the limp body off of the field.

The queen returned to her work for a couple short minutes; she actually had to fight the urge to draw it out due to their increasingly amusing mixed reactions, but finally reminded herself that time was of the essence. The Hivemind itself was buzzing in her skull to wrap things up and get them back home.

Chrysalis eventually came to stand before the lot of confused humans, then spoke a single phrase that snapped their fearful attention right back to her: “Take a good look around you.” She couldn't help but smirk slightly. “The soldiers who brought you here are not what they appear.”

The prisoners hesitantly turned their heads, murmurs of despair rising as they came face-to-face with the opal eyes and black chitinous shells of the guards’ true form, as the skin and hair of their assumed identity burned away in green immolation. Chrysalis’ smirk grew a little wider as she watched the humans’ eyes dart about the encircling ring of changelings with shock and awe, and heard their harried mutters and mute prayers for salvation. It seems I've still got the touch.

“Act accordingly, and they will be your protectors for our march,” she said crisply yet reassuringly. “Believe it or not, we truly seek your well-being. I, and all of my kin like you see before you, have a vested interest in keeping you alive and safe.” For a long, long time.

She paused again to let the information sink in with them, seeing a few slightly relieved faces, and some who simply didn’t look terrified out of their wits anymore. It was good enough. She had cocoons to fill, and subjects to feed.

Chrysalis sent a mental command to one of the drones. ’Move them out.’

One of the changelings burned himself into a human officer’s form. “Attention!”

The prisoners popped into an erect posture, heads up and silent. Their years of internment trained them like dogs to obey the will of their warden. Sometimes such inmates would be drafted to serve in the army should the need arise. With their new master being as tall as a minotaur, it was even more incentive to listen and follow orders to a tee.

Chrysalis quietly chuckled in anticipation as they were marched off. Once they were cocooned, the mewling of a thousand suffering changelings would cease, as they were finally made whole and hale once more with pure love, untainted by the cloying rot of hatred.

She turned to the stands and, in a surge of wingpower, returned to Franz and Cadence. “They’re good,” she said with a smile. “Definitely a breath of fresh air after so long of dealing with the emotional equivalent of table scraps in this world.”

“Glad they’re to your liking,” Franz smiled sincerely.

Chrysalis returned the gesture with aplomb. “I must admit, it’s been a pleasure working with you, Karl Franz,” she said. “I think this seals a partnership through the Storm—should it ever come.”

“As long as your subjects keep up their sterling intelligence work, it’s a done deal,” Franz replied smoothly. “You shall also have the protection and cooperation of the Empire’s armies should you find yourselves in need of it.”

“And Ulthuan’s armies are in Norsca on permanent garrison, protecting new colonists.” Cadence cut in, her face positively beaming. “I’ve lost track of the number of Crystal Ponies who’ve pledged their hearts to the cause, as well. They’re all eager to lend their support, and their unique abilities and magic, to all who fight against Chaos. Together, we will hold.”

“Your optimism is infectious, Cadence.” Chrysalis’ smile brightened for a moment. “I suppose this concludes our agreement, then, Franz?”

“One moment,” he replied. “In the event that you do need to defend your people upon your return, I’d like to extend a blessing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what would it entail?”

“Merely bring your head down here.”

Chrysalis sat on her knees, while Franz unhooked Ghal Maraz from his belt. He ran a thumb over the top edge of the hammer, over the ancient runes and the iron cross. He mouthed something silently, and then touched his thumb to each of Chrysalis’ temples, then dragged it down her forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt.

“Swift as the wolves of Ulric, mighty as Sigmar’s brawn. Gods, protect these, brothers in arms to your chosen people.”

The clear yet low tone of the blessing brought a thin smile to Chrysalis’ lips; she didn’t really care much for mankind’s superstitions, but it was comforting to know she had a close enough ally who would extend such a boon to her. She rose from her kneeling position.

“Thank you, Karl Franz. I do look forward to our next meeting. But for now, it is past time for farewells.”

“Indeed,” he nodded. “Fare thee well on your journey, and may the Gods shine upon your path, Chrysalis.”

She inclined her head to him in respect, then turned to Cadence—only to have her planned goodbye cut short as the crystal princess raised a hoof. “I wanted to speak with you about something, actually,” she said. “Mind if I walk with you for a bit? We can say our goodbyes afterwards.”

Chrysalis’ eyebrow quirked up in askance. “Are you sure there’s the time for that? I noticed your… ‘guard’ seemed rather eager to speak with you about something, recently. What if it was urgent?”

Cadence huffed, waving the notion off with a hoof. “If it’s so important, he’d have told me then and there,” she said pointedly. “And besides, Spike is not just my guard; he’s my friend. He can understand if I take a bit longer a bit longer. Besides, it won’t take all afternoon.”

The queen shrugged. “Suit yourself.” And with that, she exchanged a polite nod once more with Franz, then made her way out of the booth with Cadence following at her side. Ditto stepped aside and bowed respectfully, whilst the guards at the stairs lifted their halberds to attention as the duo passed.

Down in the field, the sixty prisoners had already been organized into four lines of fifteen each, with the again-disguised Changeling guards walking parallel to the block and keeping them in line with promises of swift pain from their spears. As Chrysalis and Cadence walked across the grassy plain, the former took the opportunity to switch out her form once more, changing into a man with a high-peaked cap and oil-black leather storm coat and dressed to the nines in gold braid. Symbols of bleach-white skulls adorned the headpiece, and were also present on the lapels and knees of her clothing.

“Overdoing it a bit, aren’t you?” Cadence muttered.

“It’s just until we’re out of the city,” she said, her voice oddly still the same—for now. “Appearances are everything where humans are concerned, after all.”

Cadence blinked, glancing down at her own form self-consciously.

“Don’t worry,” Chrysalis reassured her, waving a hand dismissively. “Middenheim is full of mutants, miscreants and misfits of all kinds, including plenty of ponies. A four-legged crystalline alicorn that shines like too many sequins on a dress will fit right in.”

Cadence’s forehead lit up with a brief flash of red, and she turned a deadpan stare towards her. Chrysalis just smirked. Sometimes she’s just too easy.

Cadence quickly replaced her anger with a grin. “In that case, you could walk around as normal and nopony would be the wiser.”

Chrysalis sucked air through her teeth, and gave a little chuckle. “Ouch.”

The procession, with both princess and queen in tow, marched beneath the shadow of Middenplatz’s bastion-walls. Every few meters or so, there was an inlet; a shallow hole in the wall, many holding the corpse of some large and powerful-looking Skaven. The leering visages of their generals, sorcerers, and grey seers sat immobile within; all grisly trophies raised in defiance of the Under-Empire’s threat.

Chrysalis admired the edifice put up. Middenheim’s despising of Skaven was one thing she could greatly appreciate. “Looks like we’ve got a mutual enemy close to home,” she said.

“Mhmm,” Cadence nodded. “You could probably learn a thing or two from them.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve got to plant some drones in their officer’s academy. I wish I’d seen this before.”

Another long silence hovered over them both for some time.

“Hey… Chrysalis?”

She blinked at the informal, halting tone in Cadence’s voice. “Yes...?”

“Are we… friends?”

Chrysalis froze, digging in her heels, then spun around to stare at Cadence with widened eyes. Her mouth worked for a moment in silence, before she finally settled on the most eloquent reply she could think of. “W…what?”

Cadence’s expression was timid, but bore every sign of seriousness as she returned the gaze. “I said, ‘are we friends’?”

“I-I know what you said!” Chrysalis stammered hotly. “But— what—”

The crystal princess held up a hoof to stop her. She then laid it on her own chest, took a deep breath, and then released it slowly while setting the hoof back down. “Chrysalis, I… I don’t want to think of you as an enemy,” she said with a halting tone, as if feeling her way through a mist of fog. “But... nor do I want to say your name in the same breath as a simple ally, or… business partner, or whatever you call this.” Cadence tilted her head towards the marching block of prisoners.

And then she noticed that said procession had gotten a long way ahead of them while the pair were talking. A look of embarrassment crossed her face, and she set walking towards the back of the group again, with Chrysalis wordlessly following alongside, never once taking her eyes off of her.

“Anyways...” Cadence cleared her throat nervously, then continued. “I… well, I did a little thinking, and I wound up coming back to the tea we—” She paused, glancing to the side uncomfortably. “Well, the tea we almost had together, not so long ago. I went there half-expecting you to have put a ward spell on the door and not let anypony in. But you didn’t, and you actually opened yourself up to me. That’s an important part of the beginning, getting to know more about one another, but only now have I thought about how far it might have gone.”

Chrysalis blinked dumbly.

“You’ve more than proven yourself in recent days, and you’ve extended more trust to me than I ever thought you capable of.”

What in Tartarus— Does this mare even know what she’s saying? It— she— What?!

Chrysalis shook her head sharply, and brought a hand up to massage her aching temples. She fell into a speedwalk behind the marching column ahead, not paying any attention to the crystalline pony behind her.

Seven hundred and fifty-three years since I’ve heard that word in the same context as my name… and she just tosses it out there like a Haywaiian leis wreath? Just… what? I...

“I take it that’s a no?” Cadence’s voice cut through her thoughts, carrying with it a tone of dejection.

“No—” Chrysalis jerked her head up, and sighed. “I mean… It’s not a ‘no’. That was more like an ambush than a question. Friendship was the last thing on my mind after spending a decade on the brink of extinction.”

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up—”

“No.” Chrysalis brought both hands up to her cranium. The headache was coming back. “Just… please, be quiet for a moment and let me think.”

She registered a simple nod from the princess.

They crossed a tremendous open plaza, mottled by the foot traffic of thousands of people. Priests, scholars, the layman, milling about with their own doings like ships on a stone sea. On the far end, a towering flight of stairs led up to a single structure on top. Like a lonesome castle tower, topped by a statue of a great bearded man, bearing a tremendous axe and a billowing wolf’s pelt gripping his shoulders.

It wasn’t until the procession had reached an arching gate, the last before the ramp exiting the city, that Chrysalis finally spoke again. She smiled only intermittently in her words, mostly keeping track of the prisoners as they filed through the gate to keep up appearances.

“So, what happens now? You’re leaving for Marienburg in, what, a week? And then it’s back to Ulthuan with you. Then It’ll be as if this didn’t happen. I’ll just be alone again.”

“But don’t you have a hive full of subjects?” Cadence asked. “Advisors—”

“Almost none of them can think for themselves. They’re all just cogs in our machine.”

“What about Ditto? He smiled, and his demeanor showed some independence in his thoughts.”

Chrysalis huffed amusedly. “Right. He’s one of the lucky ones. He’s expensive; the energy and materials we had to spend to create him with his old personality was immense, and even then, we had to wipe his memories. He used to be my spokespony.” Chrysalis sighed. “Oh, the headaches I used to put him through, before we turned. I wish I could apologize, but now he wouldn’t know what it was for.”

“What if… If I had a changeling we could talk through; like what Ditto’s doing?”

“Like Ditto?” Chrysalis pondered. “Yes. Make one that’s small, disguise it like a cat.”

“Like one of those Angora cats from Araby?” Cadence suggested.

“Oh, yes. The burgomeister of Hergig has one. Doppel had a good look at it when it tried to claw his eyes out.”

They both laughed, the last bits of tension sloughing away from their expressions. Chrysalis’ head slowly dipped down, and the cap of her disguise casting her face in shadow.

“After a thousand years of being reviled as a monster... I’d forgotten what the voice of friendship sounded like.” She began to chuckle shallowly; hardly mirthful. “You have no idea how it feels… to finally hear that again. Maybe we can have a get-together in the future where I don’t smash the table.”

The last of the men passed, breaking step as a cadenced march was at this point unnecessary. “Yes,” Chrysalis said, almost to quiet to hear. Her head shook slightly, a nod, and started out the gate herself. Cadence smiled and the queen repeated more loudly, coming out like a consumptive bull.

“Yes…”

“Derob… Derob… Deeeraaahh-bwuh!”

Whooves cast a brief glance as Pinkie who was moaning with her face planted firmly against the wall, her tongues painting the word ‘bored’ again and again across the span. Being cooped up in the same room for days on end was taking its toll.

Whooves’ mind, on the other hand was still buzzing, going through every possibility by which he could escape her, including the most direct methods. Walk out the front door? No. She’d see him and drag him back. Sneak out while she’s sleeping? No. She could hear a worm fart on the other side of the world, and practically pinpoint where he was by a sense of smell that would put Karanak, Khorne’s personal flesh-hound, to shame.

He idly tapped the sonic screwdriver in his hoof, then studied the green crystal anchored at its head. The metallic teeth holding it in place were designed to bend its power right back at it, producing a containment field for its own radiation. Unrefined warpstone. Powerful, and very unpredictable if not controlled properly.

He took off two of the teeth.

Whooves glanced back up at Pinkie, and tensed slightly. Her head was half turned around, one eye glaring into his with a swirling pink and blue iris. She looked to the ceiling and sighed, a warm smile coming to her.

Pinkie left the wall, stained with ‘bored’ written in a hundred different ways from foalish scribbles to regal cursive, and plopped down right next to Whooves on the sofa. She certainly was getting bigger. Not fatter. No matter how much she ate, Pinkie always somehow kept an unnaturally slim, curvy form. She was taller, took up more space. Her hoof and claw wrapped around him, silently holding him close and just enjoying his presence.

He tried to ignore her for a while, until she cooed, “So this is ‘the next level’.”

“Next level of what?”

“Our relationship.”

Right... He gave a thoughtful grunt. “A little less exciting than you expected?”

“No. It’s perfect.” Pinkie slowly traced her claw along the radius of his wing. “There need to be some moments of calm, between when we have some fun.”

“Of course,” he said disinterestedly. he glanced at the drool-running wall, raising a hoof at it. “And that was…?”

“What, that? I just really need some fresh air. Being cooped up in here, nnnggh, it’s almost claustrophobic.”

Whooves squirmed when Pinkie’s crustaceous claw nibbled his wing. He failed to stifle his snorts of tickled laughter, and the wing itself popped open involuntarily. Pinkie stopped, picking up on his dislike of her touch, and clicked her claw a few times.

“Doc... do I treat you like a plaything too much?”

Whooves’ eyes widened slightly after forcing his wing back into a folded position. Concern for the other? Congratulations Pinkie Pie, you’ve gone from homicidal dominatrix to psychotic lust.

“Oh no, no. It’s fine.”

“Mmmm No,” Pinkie muttered, unconvinced. “It’s not, is it?”

She held him even tighter. “I don’t ever ask when I want you in my tummy, do I?”

Whooves rolled his eyes. “I can’t recall the last time you asked. Especially not earlier today, when, for breakfast, you ate and regurgitated me four times in a row.”

“Oh noooo…” Pinkie embraced him in her tentacles now, smothering him like a living fur coat. “I don’t want us to be like that!

“No, it’s fine, Pinkie,” Whooves lied. “Don’t fix what isn’t brok—”

“But it is broken!” Pinkie cried with desperation. “What can I do to fix it? Anything, I’ll do anything to make it better, just tell me!”

Whooves pretended to think, gasping as his head was half embedded in Pinkie’s stomach. “A choice, is all.”

Pinkie’s stomach made its needs known, and she winced at its murmuring call. Whooves heard its wanting convulsions as his ear was right up against it. Oh, shut up, you.

“Mmmrh,” Pinkie mumbled and turned Whooves’ head up to her, smiling pleadingly. “Pretty pleeease?”

Perfect. Whooves put on a thin smile and sighed. “How can I say no to that face? But, uh,” He held the screwdriver to her. “Mind taking this first?”

“Oh, no problem. It’s gotta be pitch black in there.” Pinkie let out a tongue and snatched the device into her mouth, swallowing not a second later. Whooves watched, unsettled at the lump that slithered down Pinkie’s neck and vanished at its base.

“You have no idea.”

“Oh,” Pinkie started. “what if I swallowed a candle and matches… No, wait.” She slapped her forehead. “A fire in my tummy; what am I thinking?! How about a jar of fireflies! I don’t think I’ve tried to eat glass yet. You know, I learned from Twilight a long time ago that acid can’t melt glass… and to not even try to eat glass, but I've got an iron gut now, so I’ll eat what I want! You think it’ll work!”

Whooves shrugged. “Ehh… Worth a try?”

Pinkie squealed in delight and grabbed Whooves under the forelegs. “Up we go!”

Whooves only let himself see as far as Pinkie widening her mouth as she picked him up. Four rows of candy corn teeth guarded an abyss that looked capable of swallowing an ox whole. He shut his eyes as his head entered her mouth, idly reflecting on how her breath smelled uncannily like pancakes. A wet swallow opened her throat ahead of him, and she manually pushed him inward. He went in upside down, and the thick muscles of Pinkie’s esophagus took him in a loud, rolling squelch.

Pinkie pulled her legs from her mouth, smacking at the peppermint taste they left behind, and Whooves’ chocolatey flavor that was much stronger. She giggled and could taste the irony too, the candy eating the pony.

Once dropped into her rubbery, bubblegum-pink stomach, Whooves found his screwdriver and turned it on briefly. The stone glowed more brightly than ever and the characteristing warbling note was replaced by a crackling, hissing… just noise.

Pinkie’s stomach shrank with her sigh of satisfaction, which was cut through by a rude belch. “Excuse me. That’s what I get for eating big meals in one bite.” She waited a moment, enjoying the feeling of Whooves kneading her insides while getting out of his upside-down position. “So where were we?”

Whooves slowly pushed the screwdriver into the lining of the stomach walls and held the activation button. “How a relationship can’t just be one-sided.”

“Oh, yeah.” Pinkie flicked her claw at her forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot already! Hmm, goes to show I need to learn a lot about being a good marefriend. I think it’s because you just taste so good; it takes up my whole brain how filling you are, how sweet and… chocolatey.”

“Ah, ah!” Whooves exclaimed, shaking off the tongues that were advancing over his shoulders. “What were we just in the middle of saying?”

They immediately retreated, sucked back up Pinkie’s throat. “Sorry,” she said.

“I’m not just some everlasting piece of candy.”

“Mmm. But how awesome would a real everlasting candy be?” Pinkie hummed.

All the while, Whooves was biding his time. After a minute, Pinkie’s stomach was growling again

and Whooves was actually having to stop the walls from sucking the screwdriver into their folds. She polished off a bread bowl and crunched on the metal receptacle as well.

“I… I actually feel kinda bad for all the people and ponies I ate in Mordheim,” Pinkie said. She laid on her front, head on the armrest. “Didn’t they have places to go, people to see?”

She turned over on her back and looked down at her middle. How many live meals had passed through it? Twenty… twenty-something, she was sure of that.

“Vinyl introduced me to a lot of them. Do you think she’s a bad influence?”

“It sounds like,” Whooves grunted, wiping bread pulp out of his mane. “she was using you for hit jobs.”

“Hits?” Pinkie giggled. “Don’t be ridiculous. She said it was just a dog-eat-dog place and I… you know, took it literally.”

Whooves sighed. “Did they do anything to you? Did Vinyl say anything particularly hateful of them? And did she try to stop you?”

Pinkie was jarred by the questions. “Uhh… No. I ate them the first she introduced me to them.”

“Mhmm…” Whooves hummed expectantly.

“And Vinyl said she owed one of them a lot of money, another crashed one of her performances, and she said another was stealing from her workplace.”

“And she didn’t stop you from eating the people she just had you meet?”

Pinkie sighed sadly. “No. I was happy to do it because everypony was just sooo delicious. Vinyl would even rub my tummy to help me digest them.”

“Hit. Jobs.” Whooves said forcefully, poking Pinkie’s belly.

Pinkie giggled at the bumps that appeared over her enormous paunch. “You’re right. Well, at least we’re getting a new start. Where do you think is a good place to live once we get cleared up here?”

“Hmm… Marienburg has a wonderful aesthetic. Coastal city, lively people, fishing docks.”

“Oohh. I never tried fish before.”

“I used to eat it when I had a human body. It’s pretty good if you cook it right, especially with some lemon juice squeezed over it. Gives it just a little tang.”

Pinkie’s stomach growled again and she frowned, mumbling. “Can’t stay satisfied for five minutes…”

“I think it’s all the food stories that’s making you hungry again.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Pinkie shrugged. “But I don’t mind. Gives me more reason to fill up.”

She looked out the back door’s window, seeing no one in the alley, and poked her head into the open air. Reaching out with her tongues, she brought back everything in their reach: clothes from a drying line; a heavy barrel full of heaven-knew-what. All of it, she devoured in hopes of silencing her belly with the sheer volume.

In minutes, Whooves was buried up to his neck in wet clothing and sharing Pinkie’s already occupied gut with a barrel’s worth of dried pork.

“There,” Pinkie huffed with an air of triumph. “That should keep me good for at least a couple of hour—oooohhhh…” her rolling belly sounded off again, echoing a deep, painful groan. “No way I’m still hungr—eee-he-he-heeeaaaahh!”

The pain within was intensifying by the second, like there was a black hole inside her. She draped herself in a blanket and quickly went to the back. “Sweetie Belle, I’ll be right back,” she called.

The little creature was practicing balancing on a cloud of smoke billowing from her hooves. Using all of her concentration, she could only muster an affirmative grunt.

“I’m sorry, Doctor. It just— oooww... hurts so much.”

“It’s okay,” he smirked. “Just do what you have to do.”

Pinkie giggled. “Doing what I love for a living.”

“Oh my gosh! I got it! I got it!” Sweetie glided about the room on the fog spilling from her mouth-ended hooves. She’d kept practicing in the while Pinkie had been gone. It was as proud a moment as learning how to walk as a foal, but hovering, a whole new level. She couldn’t wait for Rarity to see.

SLAM!

Sweetie started, making her jets burst too powerfully and launching her slamming into a pink and white striped neck and toppling to the floor. She just started to get up when a tremendous force pressed down on everything below her neck, pinning her to the floor.

Pinkie’s face was not an inch from hers, drool pattering like rain from a wide, slack mouth. The mass holding her down was the mare’s bloated stomach, hanging like a sack that some massive parasite had taken residence in.

Sweetie panicked and blew smoke into the dribbling mouth that tried to swallow her head. Pinkie wheezed and left her, and immediately began grabbing up anything, everything in reach, and cramming them down her throat without a voice of effort to be heard.

“Pinkie, what are you doing?!” Sweetie tugged at Pinkie’s tail, getting no reaction back. The mare then went to the kitchen and tore the cupboard doors off, smashing them to bits in a whirlwind of destruction and swallowing the splinters, then pouring the food on the shelves into herself. At the last shard of wood from a broken door she’d missed, she froze the instant it touched her tongue.

She breathed weakly, her claw shaking while slowly pushing the piece past her lips, and swallowed. Then she flopped onto her back with a gold-brown slime spilling up from her mouth like a fountain.

“I can’t believe you ate all the food!” Sweetie Belle punched the tiny mountain of flesh Pinkie’s middle had grown into. Each blow sent ripples through her like an overinflated waterballoon. “And half the furniture and the cupboard doors! Don’t you ever stop?!”

The striped mare only made a gurgling moan in response, frothing up more amber foam at her slack lips. The sounds her stomach made were tired and heavy. The pulpy mixture stewing inside rested just under Whooves’ chin. He was hearing familiar sounds, reminding him of when he forced a Star Whale to spill its breakfast a long time ago. For Pinkie, it seemed to be debilitating, as she could only breathe in heaving gasps.

She needs something more, he thought. The straw to break the camel’s back.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he heard Sweetie Belle say worriedly.

Everything then lurched at the same time as a high-pitched scream sounded, then was choked out as quick as it started. He heard Pinkie grunting, slurping, sucking, then a loud, powerful gulp. He took his screwdriver from its infectious spot and held it in the little space of air he had. Whatever morsel she swallowed, he could hear it getting closer. The ring of muscle at the top of her stomach relaxed, opening up and squeezing through a blue and purple filly-shaped creature through which vanished into the slime of mostly-digested inedibles.

A raucous belch made the chamber shudder and Whooves immediately plunged his hooves into the muck for the monster. “Oh no, no, no! You didn’t eat her!”

A viney face broke the slimy surface, coughing and spitting out the vile soup. Several of her independent mouths began chattering, hissing, and smoking.

He quickly wiped off her face. “Sweetie, deep breaths. I’m going to get us out of here. Sweetie, stay calm!”

But she didn’t seem to hear him, snappishly glancing with wide eyes at the rippling walls which were squirming and dripping all over her. Her mouths began to light up like candles, all despite Whooves attempts.

Grrrr…

The chamber rolled and gurgled harshly, accompanied by a nigh-crying moan from Pinkie Pie, and Whooves knew what that meant.

“Sweetie!” he hissed. “Stay cal—”

hic-FWWOOSH!!

Just as Sweetie screeched with her mouths erupting in flame, their prison violently contracted, forcing them both under the slime. It churned like a seaborne undertow, carrying Whooves who held Sweetie with one leg, the screwdriver with the other, as if through a pipe with undulating force.

Whooves was ejected from Pinkie’s mouth and hit the floor hard on his shoulder, grunting as he rolled sideways opposite of the violently heaving mare. He looked at Sweetie Belle, who stared back at him with wide, panic-stricken eyes.

“Told you,” he muttered, before immediately releasing her petrified form, and jumping to a crouch.

Pinkie Pie was preoccupied, still heaving up half-digested food and other detritus—bloody hell, is that an anvil?—and quite obviously not paying any attention to him. He couldn’t have asked for a better chance.

He grabbed the handle of the sonic screwdriver between his teeth and bolted for the door. Without sparing a moment, he abruptly turned again before the door, and planted a solid buck straight into the center of the frame. The wood yielded with a resounding crack.

Through the corner of his eye, he saw Pinkie’s ears twitch.

NO! I am NOT going back there again!

CRASH!

The already-buckling door snapped in two, the bottom half breaking free while the rest dangled off the hinges. Ditzy would have been proud.

The street was virtually uninhabited, save for a few figures hunched in a doorway, narrow and in the shadow of the surrounding blocks. Whooves slammed the weakened door shut behind him. Every ounce of resistance mattered.

The whole way, he was flapping his wings, trying to dry them more quickly and make them useful. Pegasus wings were normally as waterproof as those of a duck, but the slime from Pinkie’s guts clung to him, thick as tar. He found a running gutter, its trickle streaming onto the pavement and Whooves jumped under it. He washed his wings first—the rest of him could wait until he was long gone.

Or at least he thought.

“AAAAAAEEEEEEAAAHHH!”

Whooves nearly jumped out of his fur as the eldritch scream of a mare scorned echoed out of the building, setting his spine on edge. He quickly snapped his wings open, flapping them twice to dry before leaping away from the ground and rising to the rooftops.

A pink blur shot past him, joined by a harsh slap across the face that made his head spin. He shot back the other way, trailed by a shrill voice that didn’t get any further away.

“Doctor, what’s wrong?! Did something scare you? Stop and tell me!”

By the end of its cry, it sounded to be right beside him, and there she was. Sinking tentacles and claws into the walls, Pinkie gamboled about with an arachnid agility, her eyes wide like they were ready to pop from their sockets.

Whooves sharply descended as Pinkie leapt at him, continuing with minimally-hindered momentum as she hit the opposite wall.

“Please! Talk to me!” Pinkie vomited up a swath of snapping tentacles, driving Whooves lower to stay out of range, trying to ground him.

“No! Get away!”

Biting the end of the screwdriver, he tore out the last two warpstone containment teeth and hit the activation button. The device mechanically screamed, shaking in his hoof as though hell itself were trying to escape the gemstone.

With a frantic yell, he chucked the destabilized sonic screwdriver straight at Pinkie Pie.

She caught it on one of her tongues, and tears began streaming down her face. “Now you’re throwing things at me?! What did I do—”

BOOM!

The device exploded into a raging green cloud coruscating with streams of lightning that nearly engulfed them both, snapping the tongues holding Whooves like over-taut rubber bands. The force threw Whooves to the ground, where he landed and rolled into a tumbling, smoking ball and came to a stop in the street.

It was at least ten seconds before he opened his eyes, and all the while he was taken by a fit of groaning and coughing; his entire form was screaming with aches, and he didn’t even want to think about the consequences of his exposure to raw, unstable warp energy. He performed a quick check of himself and, to his great relief and surprise, found that he wasn’t nearly as badly hurt as he could have been; his wings appeared to be in decent shape, though he did have to hastily smooth back several feathers that had been knocked askew and remove a few outright singed ones.

The sound of doors opening and excited chatter filled his ears; the inhabitants of the surrounding dwellings were emerging to see what was going on. That was attention Whooves really didn’t want. He shakily stood up on his legs as quickly as he dared, taking only a glance back at the still-dissipating cloud of smoke. Nothing came through; he couldn’t even see the remnants of any of the tentacle-like tongues from before.

“I’m sorry, Pinkie...” he muttered, then spread his wings carefully and took to the air, quickly rising away from the street, above the buildings, and into the sky.

“I’m sorry, Pinkie...”

The words were nearly beyond her hearing, but she clung to them desperately. He was sorry? He didn’t want to do it? So something else made him do it, right? Yeah.

I didn’t do anything. We were happy. We were going to make it better. He’s scared; my Hoovsy-Woovsy is scared of somepony… who took him away from me.

Pinkie coughed as a smoky smell filed her nose. She was hanging over something, if the force against her middle and freely dangling limbs told her anything. Then the force disappeared with a wooden snap, and she flopped onto cold cobblestones. Turning over, she looked down her body, where it felt like a single unbearably itchy stripe was laid on her.

Sure enough, there was a single wrinkled black line down her middle, emitting green smoke and felt very, very warm. It looked to have been cut out of her own skin, all the way from between her hind legs, to where she could still feel the itch up her neck to the lower lip. She scratched it, and the two halves parted like a game animal being gutted. Small, white points seemed to be growing in along the seam, budding and sliding into place like teeth in a zipper.

They... They’re teeth! Interlocking perfectly, they held the halves of her belly shut, almost seamlessly. As the destroyed flesh settled, the only indication of an injury was a slightly darker seam.

Then she looked up, and stopped breathing. She looked into a tight ring of onlooking faces. The circle got wider when she moved so suddenly, checking back, left, right, surrounded. Pinkie whimpered as her mind fumbled for what to do, what to do.

Then a rock struck the back of her head.

“Let he who is without sin cast the next stone!”

The next one was sharp and grazed across Pinkie’s cheek. She felt her cheek suddenly grow warm and wet, quickly sensing the scent of her own blood and the harsh bite of the strike. It felt wonderful.

She could have sat there and taken it for a bit. Let them hurt her but be awash with pain made pleasure, but…

Sweetie Belle.

In a split second, she raised a claw, catching a rock the size of her head in mid flight. Her claw shut completely, dropping two perfectly-cleaved halves of stone. Pinkie smirked devilishly.

“My turn.”

The crease down her body opened, stretching Pinkie’s body like a mare-sized venus fly trap. The macabre display stopped the mob’s barrage out of sheer revulsion.

Out dropped a wide-mouthed tube on wheels. Landing hard and heavy, it dripped of her bile, sporting a short length of rope sticking out of the back. Pinkie gripped this rope, and with her massive, slavering maw, gurgled, “Get out of the way.”

Immediately, everyone before the bore scrambled. Those behind Pinkie leapt to grab her, but she was gone instantly, leaving behind not even the cannon, and a cloud of pink smoke.

Pinkie could feel the seconds tick by.

One. She crossed two blocks.

Two. Another three.

Three. She came to a screeching halt before reaching a shattered door, and hearing faint footsteps beyond it. They weren’t hooves. Two-legged. Shoes.

Pinkie crouched low, synchronizing her steps with theirs and entering with long, silent strides. A man was cautiously crouched and searching with a meat cleaver in one hand, the other poised for a grab.

“Where are you, little thing?” he growled, a pang of fear in his breath. “We’re not going to suffer another one of the likes of you, you hear me?”

Getting closer, her coat gleaming with nervous sweat, Pinkie reared up on her hind legs, her body opening up, tentacles uncoiling.

And fell on him.

In one wet snap, her body shut around him and she fell to the floor, her tentacles packing the last of him into her inner cauldron. She heard and felt him thrashing and shouting as her stomach bore a crushing force on its catch.

Crack!

A scream came out muffled from inside her, followed by a further succession of snaps. Pinkie rolled over, hugged herself tight, trying to keep herself shut from the man’s clawing fingers, wrenching at the seam of her stomach. In less than a minute, her catch was silenced, the only sound now being her diligently working gut.

Pinkie slowly got to her hooves, her toothy maw dripping a blood-acid mixture, and immediately got to searching the space for Sweetie Belle. She sniffed out her scent coming from under a pile of sheets. The little creature timidly raised the sheet, and instantly on seeing Pinkie Pie, dropped it shut again.

“Sweetie,” Pinkie said softly, “It’s okay, I’m not gonna eat you again. I-I swear it.” Pinkie got close, receiving a hard kick to the face from the filly.

Sweetie didn’t know where she’d struck. “Go away!”

Pinkie wiped her nose of blood, trying not to laugh at the pain. “Sweetie, please! There’s a lot of angry people coming here!”

“A… A mob? Th-they know?”

“Mhmm. We’ve gotta get out of here.”

Sweetie Belle shakily removed the sheet, glancing at Pinkie’s sloshing stomach. “H-he’s gone?”

“Yep. Now, this might sting a little.”

In a single motion, Pinkie bit down at the back of Sweetie’s neck, her teeth slipping between the tendrils of her body. “Hey, sto— ah-ha-ha-ha!”

Pinkie stole out the back with the oddly-laughing filly in her teeth, who had gotten an accidental taste of her body’s new venom. Pinkie’s first thought was to find her sister.

And hope that she wasn’t going to be too mad about this.

For Celestia, the gardens at Canterlot were where she had brought castle staff and advisors, from Generals Militant of the Equestrian Army to the caretakers of the libraries. Under the gazebos or floral arches, she told them the best and worst news. She made it her business to know everyone by name, so they didn’t feel like an anonymous hoof. The gardens were a firm reminder there was some natural good in the world beyond the marble and smooth stone halls of the castle.

It does bring back memories.

At the end of one of Konigsgarten’s colonnaded hedgerows, not so different from Canterlot’s, mirrored where a petrified Discord would have been. Insead, the figure of a man cast in bronze stood tall, frozen in mid-stride with a mock Skull Splitter in hand and open-mouthed, ready to bellow an order to the whole of Middenland to take up arms. A gilded plaque at his feet read, ’Valten - Auserwählter des Sigmar - Held der Middenheim’.

Celestia took a cursory read of other texts carved into the base of the statue, and then continued on, looking for another place to wait.

Two-thousand five hundred years of war. I suppose even Tzeentch would have gotten bored here after a while, and try to find new toys… Or an entire new dimension to throw into the game. I fear the thought of how many of us may have thrown their lot in with Chaos, by now… But at least some of my little ponies are safe.

She found a shaded spot nestled in a shallow depression at the far end of the gardens. A polished, smooth-topped granite bench was ringed by a knee-high hedge, budding white flowers with the occasional bee laboring in ignorance of the princess resting among them. She spied the odd poet or artist once in a while, one of which she witnessed complete a rather beautiful painting of the current section of the garden. Celestia had overheard, some time ago, that the gardens were to undergo renovations, so she surmised that he had probably been trying to capture the original before the window of opportunity closed.

Celestia gracefully took a seat on the bench, and finally allowed herself a relaxed sigh. She closed her eyes and stretched her wings to their full length, relishing the feeling of her somewhat-underused flight muscles re-aligning themselves. She hadn’t even realized how tense she was.

The alabaster goddess smiled. No matter. After today… everything will be worth it.

Her horn ignited with a soft golden glow as she sent a simple telepathic message to her attendants for refreshments.

She herself was in informal robes, pearl-white and pink fringes. She had to drop the gaudy suit she usually wore; the metallic sun mounted behind her head felt too narcissistic, as well as outright intimidating. To Tartarus with the stereotypical opinions of the sycophantic, superstitious locals.

“Here she is, miss,” she heard someone say. It was Keen Eye, and beside her, a tall lavender-coated unicorn draped in a sleeved beige cloak, wearing a smile that Celestia hadn’t seen for a decade.

“Thank you,” Twilight said to her guide, not even taking her eyes off of her.

Celestia inclined her head, then gestured to the entrance. “That will be all, Keen Eye.”

The aging stallion bowed stiffly yet eloquently, then made a brisk turn and left the grounds, leaving the two alicorns together.

No sooner had he left than their formal composure melted away like ice in the sun, and they nearly flew at each other in a tearful hug, Celestia extending her wings over Twilight’s shoulders and pulling her close and tight. Twilight immediately attempted to nuzzle at her mentor’s neck, but her newfound equality in height to the Princess made the movement rather awkward, leading to a round of mirthful chuckles from both of them.

“Twilight,” Celestia started, her voice cracking with pride. “You’ve grown so much over the years.”

Twilight laughed dryly. “It actually happened all in one night.”

The sun Princess raised an eyebrow.

“It’s… a long story,” Twilight sighed, and leaned against her for support. “But my friends and I got out safely, though we all had some… changes. I’m still the same Twilight, though…” She paused, choking back a sob. “I’m sorry, Princess, I… I just missed you so, so much.”

“And I, you,” she replied with an understanding smile. “I always knew you would find a way, Twilight. I never lost hope, not—”

Celestia’s eyes shot open at the brownish-purple appendages that had wrapped around her.

“Twilight,” she said tersely, “your wings.”

Twilight gasped and yanked the leathery flaps back, frantically tucking them under her robes while snapping her head around. Thankfully, she and Celestia were the only ones in this section of the gardens.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” she said.

“It’s alright. It doesn’t look like anypony’s seen.”

Twilight still took some nervous glances around, double-checking as they took their seats. The refreshments Celestia had called soon arrived.

The staff ponies set down a wicker table in the semi-circular bench’s center and laid out a pair of saucers, cups, and a porcelain teapot, its spout still steaming.

The servants bowed and left courteously, taking Celestia’s and Twilight’s thanks. The conversation between the two immortals took on a lighter note afterwards, with each sitting opposite of the other and wearing relaxed expressions. Celestia was the first to break the silence.

“Did you know that unicorns could use telepathy?”

Twilight blinked, then grinned broadly. ”I knew it! I read about that back in the Royal Library, once, but I could never find a spellbook for it!”

Celestia nodded. “Spells like that are generally reserved for those who we know will surely not abuse them. If it found its way into the wrong hooves, the consequences could be catastrophic.”

“Do you think you could teach me that, sometime?” Twilight asked with a glimmer of hope in her eye.

Celestia bit the inside of her lip.

“Of course,” she smiled thinly. “Once we settle what we need to do for everypony’s sake.”

Celestia noticed Twilight’s smile slightly fall when she looked at the pot. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“It’s just that, uh… drinks don’t taste the same to me anymore. But I don’t know. I’ll try again. Maybe the stars have aligned, or something.”

Celestia chuckled and poured both their cups. Twilight tipped it to her lips and, thankfully, she didn’t lower it in disgust.

“It actually tastes like tea!” Twilight said in surprise. “I guess all this time I was just acclimating to a new sense of taste.”

Celestia hummed while sipping her own brew. “When you wrote back to me in response, you wanted to be relocated from the Inquisitorial headquarters?”

“Yes,” Twilight nodded eagerly. “It was just temporary, right? The Emperor was just overwhelmed at Fluttershy’s episode?”

Celestia sniggered. “Franz is rarely overwhelmed by anything, and the governor carried most of the burden of keeping order and in reconstruction. It’s his job.

“Indeed, it was only temporary. I couldn’t leave you in the Inquisition’s hard hands.”

Twilight breathed easy. “Where do you think my friends and I could go?”

“It would be most difficult finding Applejack, Fluttershy, Rarity and Pinkie Pie a safe place. Somewhere rural; Ostland, or maybe Kislev. Or what about the Tumble Downs?”

Twilight and Celestia spent a great time figuring out their relocation, narrowing the possibilities to the Bitter Moors or the Skaag Hills, the latter being less than fifty miles from where her mentor would be, in Altdorf.

“Now, I personally think it would be best,” Celestia began, “if you, specifically, stayed with me.”

Twilight felt a jolt of excitement, but it was quickly dampened as the reality of the words sunk in. “I… can’t stay with my friends?”

Celestia quickly rethought her choice of words. “Rainbow Dash could certainly be in Altdorf, being as versatile as a changeling. And as for yourself, You simply need to hide your wings and keep the extra horns filed down.

Twilight weighed it. In the Skaag Hills, her friends wouldn’t be that far away; they could keep in contact. And the gods themselves told her of what they had planned for her. Being alongside her teacher was a shield of light.

“It can work,” she nodded. “So long as my friends go to the Skaag Hills.”

Celestia smiled. “Then that much is settled.”

Celestia poured herself a second cup, her conscience knocking at the door. Did she really have to tell Twilight? If her thousands of years of life had taught her anything, it was that secrets could not be well kept among large numbers. She’d tried to keep it among a tight circle; the guard which defended Canterlot Castle itself, and her sister. There would inevitably be some loose lips, and it would crush Twilight’s soul even harder if she found out on her own, that there was some conspiracy against her.

“Twilight, just how much have you learned about the nature of where you fit in the war?”

Twilight sighed. She too knew they’d have to get to more serious issues. “It goes all the way back to the beginning, I think. The Everchosen himself told me what what we were supposed to do together. He needs me for his war, and Chaos made me like this so it’d work.”

“That’s it?” Celestia asked.

“I think so. But as long as I’m here and he’s a thousand miles away, it’s nothing to worry about, right?”

“Not exactly.”

Twilight set her cup down nervously, and Celestia continued. “Chaos didn’t make you like this. they made you what you were… before.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Changer of Ways set into motion a plan, long ago, choosing Luna and I to carry it out. You were at the heart of it.”

Twilight resisted rolling her eyes. “If I was before, I think I would have noticed. Living in a library and a couple of hours from Canterlot doesn’t exactly make good training for an evil pony.”

“Please, it’s... going to be very difficult to explain. You… have always been this way.”

Twilight’s face instantly tightened. “W… what?”

Celestia quietly swallowed. “I’ve tried to keep you safe from them, keep you from their corrupting influence—”

“Wait. What do you mean I’ve always been this way? In Equestria, I never had wings, or extra horns, or— or fangs!” Twilight snatched her hoof back, and caught herself raising her voice. “I’m sorry, Princess.”

“It’s alright. What I’m saying is, the gods didn’t make you who you are, a scholar with loving friends, but they did… create you. They began your existence, expressly to be their puppet and follow the destiny they set for you blindly, but I have striven to foil it.”

“No, no.” Twilight nearly laughed at the absurdity. “I had parents, princess. I had a long form certificate of live birth.”

“They did it, to make your beginning unsuspicious. Twilight, please, always bear in mind that everything you did over your life has been real.”

“Princess, there’s no way I was born this way. That’s imposs…” Twilight stopped herself. They were gods. Nothing was impossible for them. She heard them discussing resurrecting the dead as casual conversation before sending her off when she met them.

Twilight held the sides of her head, shakily breathing. Celestia reached over and held her hoof.

“Rank-and-file daemons can do only what their masters order them, which is to kill and destroy without end. But you are nothing like them. You and your friends have defeated wielders of chaotic magic and even reformed the spirit of Chaos.”

“So you… sent me on those tasks so I’d despise their kind of evil?”

Celestia nodded. “I swear, all I’ve done was to protect you and this world.”

Twilight raised a brow. “All? What else?”

“Spike, he… Did you wonder how he grew the way he did?”

“Not really. Dragons usually walk on two legs before hitting their maturity growth spurt, then they’re on all fours. But then there was him growing to maturity in one day on his fifth birthday! It’s unprecedented. We’d chalked it up to indulgence in greed, but what really happened?”

“I didn’t tell him until recently, and he didn’t take it very well. He was my backup plan.”

“Your... backup?” Twilight blinked in askance. “For what?”

Celestia hesitated. “I mean… It isn’t necessary anymore, but Spike was supposed to contain you, should you have succumbed to Chaos.”

Twilight’s eyes shot open wide, and her expression fell in shock. “Contain me? Did you think of me as a threat? And I’m sorry; what were you doing to Spike? He was supposed to contain me? Fight me if I turned?”

Celestia bit her lip again, and gave a slow, simple nod. “Yes. But like I said, things have turned out for the best—”

“But Princess…” Twilight’s voice cracked. She shook her head in disbelief. ”You would have had him turn on me? We grew up together…”

“I know. I’ve come to regret what I’ve had to do to make him strong.”

Twilight stood upright with a jolt, her eyes blazing. “What did you do to Spike?” she said curtly. “You made him this way?”

Celestia’s eyes fell for a moment, then returned a sincere look. “I’ve made mistakes. In the worst case scenario, I needed somepony as strong as you—”

“Did you mess with him as a baby!?”

“Twilight, After Luna had become Nightmare Moon, I was left alone with the threats of a being beyond our comprehension on my shoulders. I had to do whatever it took to ensure not only Equestria’s peace, but your own.”

“Who else did you bring into this?!” Twilight’s carnivorous teeth were barred, her eyes furious and red. “Were you messing with Cadence when she was foal-sitting me? Was the only reason you let Shining Armor into the Royal Guard because he was my brother?!”

“He’s not your brother.”

The world stopped.

And in some dark, cold corner in the back of Celestia’s subconscious, she thought, for the briefest of moments, that she could hear the maniacal laughter of a certain ageless, maleficent god.

“...What?”

The flat reply felt like the icy grasp of winter upon her heart. She cringed back as Twilight’s countenance went from shock to disbelief to outright fury in the space of three seconds. She quickly blurted out, “Twilight, please, let me explain—”

“What. Did. You. Say?”

“Twilight, when your parents—”

The last thing Celestia saw before the world spun out of focus was Twilight lunging forward, her forehoof engulfed in an aura of crackling magic. When she regained her senses, it was to the unpleasant taste of blood and shrubbery leaves in her mouth, and a viciously throbbing pain in her cheek. The sound of shattering porcelain followed soon after.

“Celestia, I… I…”

By the time she rose from the bush and sat up again, rubbing her aching face, Twilight was gone, the only thing marking her passing being the broken remains of the tea set.

Celestia. She called her Celestia. Not Princess. That was as sure and sharp a rejection as any blade, and the guilt and agony that followed ripped at her heart like a murder of starving crows. Her eyes fell to the flagstones, and not for the first time or the last, the Sun Princess’s tears fell freely.

What have I done…

Lynchpin.

Rarity sat in a hole in the roof of one of the towers to Middenheim’s cathedral, her mane dancing in the high-altitude gusts. Waiting and watching the other spire, she felt both lucky and cursed that the immaterial powers granted her a peek into the near future.

Ah, there she is.

Rarity sat silent, spying a lavender flash leave a familiar alicorn in the opposite spire. She was hunched over. Rarity raised a hand toward her and snapped her fingers. Twilight’s ears shot up and Rarity gently waved to her friend when she spotted her. She projected her voice across the distance between them, silently mouthing, “Something wrong, dear?”

She registered a nod from her friend.

“Do you need any help with it?”

Another nod. Rarity dissolved into a cloud of dusty particulate, drifting over to Twilight’s spire. The alicorn was sobbing dryly, her eyes bloodshot and tearless. Twilight held Rarity tightly as soon as she had a corporeal form.

Rarity was elated, but didn’t smile. The truth hurt, like how much it hurt for her to accept what she had to do for the others, but it was all necessary to achieve salvation. Rarity was silent for a minute to let her friend vent, consoling her as best she could.

Finally, she asked Twilight what was wrong.