Chrysalis pauses, her levitated fork halfway to her mouth. Half of her monstrous spinach and cheese quiche remains, but the insult of interrupting her second breakfast pales in comparison to the tangible waves of hatred, disgust, and loathing radiating from everycreature. The din in the auditorium fades as she rises, ponderous steps taking her to center stage.

As she walks more creatures enter the auditorium. Three griffons join Delegate Gruff, their grasping claws and predatory looks focusing on Celestia. A slender teal dragon joins Garble, huffing and staring at the ceiling with a bored expression. Three yaks, nearly as massive as Prince Rutherford, join the delegate and sit a good distance away. Two goats join Iron Grip, carrying saddlebags full of empty cans and books. The minotaur grabs a can, chewing for a moment before spitting the metal out and glaring at the goat in question. It ignores him, picking up the chunk of metal and gulping it down.

“Point of order,” Delegate Gruff calls from the opposite end of the auditorium. He sneers contemptuously.

Chrysalis scowls. They are going to make her wait on stage while they discuss some bureaucratic minutiae?

Alira, the Saddle Arabian mare standing behind a podium on the stage, glances down at a thin stack of papers. She turns to her husband, Haakim, who is standing at the door and awaiting her any command. He nods at her. She turns back to Gruff. “Proceed.”

“As per the Articles of the Council of Creatures,” Gruff states formally, the single good eye of the griffon twinkling, “a party to a dispute shall refrain from voting. As the Changelings are currently residing within Equestria, the Equestrian delegate shall refrain from voting. This will also apply to the remaining votes under consideration.”

Alira turns to Celestia. “Princess Celestia of Equestria, do you contest this?”

“Yes,” Princess Celestia answers, her face carefully neutral. None of the creatures have bothered to stand when speaking and neither does she. “Many - if not all - of the creatures represented here have some qualm or another with the changelings. You might as well have all of us refrain from voting.”

A growl grows in the back of Chrysalis’ throat. That is how Celestia defends her? She measures the distance to the closest door, formulating an escape plan. She doesn’t want to leave, not like this, but should worst come to worst...

“Equestria has the least concern of any of us,” Gruff rebuts. His bombastic tone only gets more intense. “Wh-y, if King Gato had not been impersonated by a changeling, Aramaspi would never have made off with the Idol of Boreas!”

“What?” Chrysalis exclaims, stamping a hoof. She knows the griffons are keen to blame every disaster on her and her brood. But that?

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Gruff shouts, waving a yellow talon at Chrysalis, “Paradin’ up there without any chains, like you’re some kind of misunderstood chick! Or a horn ring, so you can’t flee like the coward you are! Turncoats and traitors, the lot of you! Why, if I-”

Alira clears her throat, loudly enough to silence the griffon making squeezing gestures with his talons. “Delegate Gruff, please keep your… allegations to the topic at hoof.”

Gruff grumbles, scowling, but says nothing.

He has nothing on Chrysalis’ vehement sneer, lips peeling back to expose wicked fangs.

Alira’s steady gaze sweeps across the room. “If there is nothing else? Princess Celestia, I believe you have made your stance clear.”

“Indeed,” the alicorn states, but there is a sadness in her eyes as she bends her head slightly. “Equestria votes no.”

The dragon delegate is next. “If you weren’t in bed with them?” Garble sticks a claw in his mouth, making a disgusting retching sound. “I might’a said no. But it’s hard to argue when your Prince is married to her.” He pauses for a long second before quickly speaking and taking his seat. “Dragons vote yes.”

Chrysalis frowns, especially when she sees Spike’s look of betrayal and how the larger red dragon turns away from the smaller purple one. Spike blindly reaches up to his oldest friend, only for the lavender hoof to pull him across her chest in a painful-looking hug.

“The Storm Realm votes no,” the Storm King says idly, scratching his back with the crystal-tipped staff. He offers no other explanation, turning to the waiter. “Get me more of that roasted stuff! Please and thank you!” He waves as the waiter departs, dabbing at his face with a napkin. Next to him smolders Tempest Shadow, her unflinching gaze never straying from Celestia.

Chrysalis’ eyes widen. She didn’t trust the Storm King to keep his word, but now they only need one more vote!

Prince Rutherford rumbles, “Changeling steal Yak best secrets! Give to ponies!” He stamps a hoof on the chair in front of him and it shatters. Nocreature else say near him for exactly this reason. “Yak vote yes!”

“Yak secrets?” Iron Grip deep laugh shakes his taut belly. “Iron Grip would like to know where ponies got idea for train engine! Changelings in Equestria long before Queen Chrysalis make move on Shining Armor, yes?” He puts his hands under his chin, flexing his massive arms as he stares at the changeling queen. “Minos vote yes!”

“What’ll it cost you, Princess?” Gruff cackles, stretching his talons toward the alicorn. And just as quickly he snatches them back. “Too bad the price just went up! The Griffons vote aye.”

For a moment Chrysalis just stares. It… it passed? But despite the gloom settling upon her, the inklings and droplets of greed and tyranny-laced-joy she picks up from the creatures? She can sense hope. It’s small, it’s faint, but it’s there. So she stands, confident, unwilling for those seeking to dominate her to sense her weakness.

“The motion passes,” Alira states, her breath catching as she tries to keep her voice steady. She tentatively turns to address the most powerful being in existence. Or, at least, in the room. “P-Princess Celestia, do you agree to abide by the ruling?”

“Sister,” Luna growls, restrained fury escaping through gritted teeth. “You will bow to these creatures?”

“Luna, my Sister,” Celestia whispers. “It is but a minor setback. We will prevail.” She turns to Alira. “You have my word.”

“And we all trust your word,” Gruff cajoles from the other side. He raises a talon at the imperious changeling. “It’s hers that we don’t!”

“You’re going through with this?” Doug asks from Celestia’s other side. He has to raise his voice as the auditorium breaks into stomps of agreement.

“What would you have me do?” Celestia whispers, her voice reaching him clearly.

“Perhaps we can talk about that before this farce goes any further,” Doug angrily whispers back as the stomps die down.

“Perhaps,” Celestia replies, but remains focused on Alira.

The Saddle Arabian mare flips to the next page, shuffling the pages in front of her. “Onto the next item. The changelings. What shall be done with them?” She turns to Gruff. “You have the floor.”

“Mhm,” the griffon grumbles as he prowls forward, his low profile giving the appearance of a lion stalking through an underbrush of chairs. He reaches the stage, but never acknowledges Chrysalis’ presence.

“We all know the stories,” he begins, stalking from one side of the stage to the other. “Anygriff can tell you.” His eye narrows mirthfully, but it’s a greedy smile that accompanies it. “For a couple of bits.” He stands a bit straighter, none of the mirth remaining. “The cities destroyed. The lives ruined. The goods lost, the ideas stolen. They are thieves and despoilers of anything and everything they touch, rotting it from the inside, sucking it dry of everything they can before moving on.”

Chrysalis stands tall, allowing his wrath and ardor to wash over her like so much hot air, even as he whirls on her and jabs accusing at her face.

“I will hear you confess to every crime you have committed,” he demands, seething with rage. “Every face you’ve stolen, every bed you’ve snuck inside, every griffon you’ve replaced. Every beating heart you have carved out and devoured. And then I will have your head, so I can cast it in the Abysmal Abyss where it belongs.”

Gruff holds Chrysalis’ gaze for a moment, snarling at her unflinching visage. Then he sweeps to the side, returning to his coterie.

Cadance holds close to Shining Armor, liquid fear bubbling in his eyes. In her’s, too, the thought of losing his foal, even if it is the one with Chrysalis and not her own, more than either can bear.

“Thank you, Delegate Gruff,” Alira projects through the auditorium. It silences many of the whispers trading between the creatures. She nods to the changeling. “Queen Chrysalis, your response.”

The heavyset changeling lifts an ebony hoof, inspecting it for a moment. “I have never held a beating heart in my hooves, or my magic,” she states casually. She ignores the numerous beings she has swallowed whole, though they had been unconscious, never to awaken. Her head turns to regard the one-eyed griffon. “Can you say the same?”

Chrysalis shakes her head, gaze sweeping to the rest of the creatures as Gruff fumes. She settles on Celestia, wondering how the alicorn will help in her defense. But for now she appears to be content with sitting there and doing nothing. Like she has done far too many times.

“I hear allegations. Assertions. Claims made without proof.” Her gaze returns to Gruff. “You think I replaced your King all those years ago. I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted, to then have failed so utterly in my ruling that my incompetence could only have been intentional.”

“Why, you!” Gruff shouts, only the talons of his comrades restraining him keeping him from charging the stage.

“Delegate Gruff,” Alira cautions as the fez-topped griffon struggles.

“You dare insult Griffonstone?” he bellows, spittle flying from his beak. He shrugs off one griffon, only to have another grab his wing. “And yet even our rubble is better than anything you could create!”

Chrysalis laughs, short and derisive.

“Then what of Trot?” the deep voice of Iron Grip asks, intensely peering at the changeling through his small, beady eyes. A muscled hand dwarfs the book he picks up and waves around, Twilight gasping at the teeth marks along the spine. “Princess Celestia herself said she stopped you from taking over! Iron Grip demands to know!”

Eyes turn to Princess Celestia. “Queen Chrysalis was imprisoned for her crimes, along with her brood. Her sentence was paid. Any crimes before that? I do believe there is nary a creature here who can speak to being wronged by her.”

“What about The Great Sergio?” Garble stands up, pounding one clawed hand into the other. He scowls at Celestia. “You said you needed a dragon to watch over her and make sure she didn’t escape! He never returned!”

“The Great?” Chrysalis states coldly, flames dancing in her eyes as she relives the torturous time she and her brood spent imprisoned inside the volcano. “Sergio was a vicious warden who delighted in devouring my brood alive.” She hears Celestia’s gasp, sees the hoof covering her gaping mouth, but cannot believe the alicorn did not know what had occurred. “We repaid the favor the day we escaped.”

“You did what!?”

Fury breaks from the red dragon in a great gout of flame, spit directly at the changeling queen. Her horn flares, molten slag dripping off her hasty shield. Smoke fills the stage as the wooden floor combusts, bedlam erupting as Garble prepares another lava burst.

Shields of pink spread from Twilight Sparkle and Shining Armor, sentinels protecting the ponies from any wayward bursts and simultaneously keeping Applejack and Rainbow Dash from joining the fray. They press against the pink barrier, only to yelp in terror as a glob of orange and yellow splatters against the shield and sinks to the floor. The griffons and minotaur spread away from any other stray projectiles, as does Tempest Shadow, leaving only the Storm King nonchalantly chewing his breakfast.

Chrysalis hunkers down as she grimly considers the situation. Two of the five have made clear their position. What chance is there that the yaks or the minotaurs or even the Storm King might vote for her execution? And that of all of her brood? Would Celestia stand idly by and allow it to happen, as she has allowed so many other things?

It is not a chance she can allow.

Her horn flares, forming a bubble of green that sinks into the stage and leaves nothing but smoke and fire behind.

Next Chapter: Ch. 18 - Survival Instincts, Part Four Estimated time remaining: 29 Hours, 27 Minutes