Chrysalis reappears in the dimly-lit basement amid a bevy of cleaning supplies, spare toilet paper ranging from pony sized to sheets that would cover a bed, and cake. Dozens, if not hundreds, of vibrantly colored crates of emergency cake stacked almost to the ceiling. She can tell it is designated such from the tiny pink sticky notes on every single one that read ‘break open in case of cake-based emergency’, accompanied by a tiny doodle of a smiling Pinkie Pie, each in a different pose or smile.

She grimaces at the icky cuteness, tepidly stepping away, only to knock over a half dozen mops and brooms. The clatter echoes loudly, but it’s nothing compared to the banging and stomps coming from above. She frantically glances at the single closed door to the storeroom, readying her horn to subdue anycreature that might come to investigate.

After a few tense seconds she takes a deep breath, calming herself. She glares at her ebony sides. The majority of the extra bulk she gained after her transformation came in and between her legs, enlarging her barrel and thickening her muscles. It throws off her momentum and gait every now and then, especially when she’s carrying a few hundred extra pounds.

Just exactly what those extra pounds constitute gets her to pause her search for an escape route. Her hoof reaches back, tenderly pressing against the first of six barely visible bulges. The oldest egg is a mere two weeks old and ready to be laid - past due, in fact. As wide as her hoof and twice as tall, very soon the five-pound husk would disgorge its grub-like occupant. With any luck she will be back in Ponyville when this happens, ready to greet and nurture the newest member of her next brood. Though they would need to find a new location. Perhaps deeper in the Everfree? Or across the ocean to the west and try their luck there.

Next is a one-week-old egg, happily incubating. About the same size and nestling among four others ready to accept a stallion’s seed. She would only activate one at a time unless her situation changed drastically. And then she gets to her engorged stomach, enclosed by thick muscles and unyielding chitin, busily churning meat and bone into stores of fats, carbohydrates, and proteins. Everything a newly formed and rapidly growing ‘ling would need.

Her head bows down as she reaches the last part. The copied womb doesn’t feel foreign, though somecreature dissecting her might wonder how a pony’s reproductive organs got inside a changeling. It’s a part of her, like any other, though this one had taken an almost unpalatable amount of love energy to integrate into the rest of her. At least the experience was easier for her ‘lings to copy when they cleaved - individually and collectively, literally and figuratively - to Equestria.

And inside that womb is her foal. Her first foal.

A muffled conversation at the door snaps her head up. What should she do?! Hide behind something? The garishly bright boxes, despite their vast number, aren’t in a good position, and neither are the toilet paper rolls. A blinding flash and subdue? Only if detected. She grimaces as she grabs a mop, rests it on her head to cover her horn and conspicuous mane. She hunkers down as close to the colorful boxes of cake as she can without knocking even more over. The door will block their view, and if they don’t look too closely her bulk might blend into the dark walls.

The door opens, a cloth-clad guard pony and a violet-inscribed storm guard poking their heads inside. They scan the room, slowly, and every muscle in her body screams that they are going to see through her ludicrous disguise.

But their eyes pass right over her. They glance at each other before shutting the door, and she can hear the loud stomps of one guard walking down the hallway.

She sighs in relief, hoof pressing against her chest. But that only reminds her of the foal inside her. It’s an expenditure she doesn’t want to repeat, especially twice, which severely limits her options as far as escaping. And giving her up just feels… wrong. She might be able to disguise herself as an overweight pegasus and fly away. A roc would be better, if more conspicuous, or a bugbear. If it was a changeling inside her it wouldn’t be a problem. But a pony?

She scowls. Why is she getting sentimental about this one collection of cells barely five weeks old? Because she just got a beating heart of her own? Or was it because she desperately wanted this experiment to succeed? So many of her other ventures failed. But this one? She really, truly thought it would bring her changelings the love they deserve.

Her ears prick at the loud approach of booted steps. Too light to be a storm guard, not the right cadence to be a pony, unless they were doing a perfect parody of Pinkie Pie walking upright. Her scowl intensifies; it better not be that pink menace come to whisk wallows away with waxed warm words.

The door opens. And who should come through but the creature she should have expected. His gaze sweeps the room, immediately finding her, though his eyes flick to her horn as he closes the door behind him.

“Hey,” Doug greets softly. The corners of his mouth tug to a wry smirk. She only realizes why as he quips, “Why, if it isn’t the most beautiful mop stand I’ve ever seen.”

She rips the mop off her head and throws it to the floor, a hoof straightening her mane. She scowls, ignoring the compliment. “I suppose you’ve come to drag me back.” She looks around the room as he pauses. “How did you even find me?”

“Teleports aren’t exactly hard to trace, “Doug says, searching for somewhere to sit. “That and the guards aren’t quite as incompetent as they might seem. They’d very much like to keep their emotions inside their bodies, thank you very much.”

“And you don’t?” Chrysalis retorts with a taunting sneer.

“Hey, I already wear my emotions on my sleeve.” Doug winks at Chrysalis, earning himself a roll of emerald eyes. “They went and found me, since we’re hoping you’ll come back.”

Chrysalis snorts. “We?”

“Celestia took your place.” Doug sighs at Chrysalis’ callous stare. “Just like she promised. Luna thinks she’s insane, of course, but she finagled your ‘departure’ into a recess while you recover from being unduly attacked. Which you were, no doubt about it, and they reprimanded Garble for his outburst. Would you believe he didn’t actually care about Sergio? Some friends dragons are.” He smiles at her, but weakly. “It is contingent on you coming back, though.”

“Obviously. You merely want to save your precious Celestia.” Chrysalis turns her head upward with a grimace. Every minute she spends talking will be that much more likely to convince her to stay. “If she cannot save herself, what possible chance does she have of saving me?”

“Well, you’re right about the first part, mostly.” Doug walks past Chrysalis, pulling out one of the larger crates of cake and sitting on it. He reaches an arm forward, inviting her. “I care about you, too.”

He goes from just under her head to uncomfortably low, even if she likes and is used to looking down on everycreature. She grumbles as she sinks down and rests her turgid barrel against the cool floor. She’d need to burn more calories to compensate.

“But the second?” Doug shrugs as his arm retreats back to his side, never having enticed those ear scratches he loves to give. “I’d like to think that she could, at any time, play the ‘Screw the rules, I have the sun!’ card. But for some cockamamie reason she plays along with their games. Maybe it’s the only way she can entertain herself after ruling for a thousand years. Maybe she knows how many cities she would have to turn to glass before everycreature left her alone. Or, maybe, she has as her goal the self-actualization of as many ponies and creatures as possible.” He jabs a gloved finger at the changeling staring him down. “And I think that’s a goal you share.”

“Preposterous,” Chrysalis flatly states.

“Fair enough,” Doug admits when she declines to further elaborate. “Maybe your goals are different. After all, you only cared about you and your own for as long as Celestia’s been ruling alone. Right?“

She doesn't counter his assertion.

“But you wanted each of your brood to succeed. For them to strive, to improve, to be the best they can possibly be.”

Chrysalis turns her head away. “Too many,” she grunts out, not willing for her weakness and attachment to be seen. “Too many were cut short before their prime, lost before they could realize their potential. Or were forced into short term decisions with long term consequences, because we needed to survive today to even make it to tomorrow.”

“I think that would be a better thing to say,” Doug says, smiling encouragingly.

She stares at him for a long moment. “What?”

Doug motions to the door. “When you return and argue your position in front of the Council. You should focus on that potential. How your goal has been to improve. There have been obstacles in your way, sure.”

“And when they name those obstacles?” Chrysalis demands harshly, interrupting him. She cannot believe she is considering it. “Because each of those obstacles has a name. Trot. Sergio. Cadance.”

“True,” Doug concedes. “But you can reframe those obstacles, right?”

“The Stallion of the Elements,” Chrysalis goads with a vicious sneer, “telling me to lie?”

Doug chuckles, a wry smile crossing his face. “Maybe you’re afraid Celestia would do a better job arguing your position than you would. After all, she promised to take your place. Not just the punishment.” He taps a finger against his chin, looking up at the ceiling. “But I’m not quite comfortable with the idea of her and Shining Armor. I’m jealous like that. I might need you to stick around for that part.”

“Why, you…” She wants to slap that smirk off his face, but she’d probably take a bit too much bone to make it worthwhile. She grits her teeth instead. “You’re using reverse psychology on me.”

“Sure. But I actually believe what I say.” Doug smiles, more genuine this time. “And that’s what I mean. Reframe it. I think you’d do a much more effective job than Celestia because you know why you did your actions. Why you chose the path you did. And that will make it more genuine, more believable, than her guessing at your reasons ever could be.” He focuses on her. “What were your goals?”

Chrysalis perks up, frowning as she considers.

“Survival,” she starts, taking a deep breath. “Obviously.”

“Of course,” Doug agrees. He leans forward, massaging his head with a bit of a grimace. “Everycreature has a right to life. Though sometimes one’s pursuit conflicts with another’s. And with the number of predator species out there, they’d be hard pressed to argue that you are wrong and they aren’t, especially since you don’t leave a corpse.”

“Not quite true,” Chrysalis admits. She watches his lips pull against his teeth in a thin grimace. “When we first started out, and when we are starving, we had… difficulty restraining ourselves. And while most creatures think of us as eating love, it is more… we eat their magic, tainted by the taste of their emotions. Despair and despondency taste bitter and sour, unpalatable unless you are in a frenzy. In which case the sheer… volume and ease of access makes it an appealing choice. But too often a fatal one.”

“I see,” Doug says carefully. He raises his hand again, inviting her. And this time she accepts, scooching forward and letting those fingers twist into her thick cobalt mane. It is only after several moments of deep thought that he continues. “That would explain the invasions.”

Chrysalis nods, pressing against his hand and delighting in the love expressed through his touch. She has to restrain herself or she might roll over like the Apple’s dog, with as much as she wants him on and in her belly.

“It kept my brood alive, when infiltrators could not provide sufficient love. Too many were allowed to breed without sufficient… yields.” She cannot help but wonder why she is expressing remorse for her actions. “Perhaps that is why I do not wish to leave your fecund land. There is more love here than any other place I have traveled. Even if we no longer need to feed on love, sharing still proves nourishing. But with the Council...”

“Sure,” Doug agrees. “But that’s still the survival issue. Eat and grow, breed and multiply. There has to be something past that, beyond that, or you’re nothing more than a virus that wants to convert everything into more of itself.”

“I thought life justified its own existence,” Chrysalis asks, curious how this doesn’t counter his earlier point, one which not everycreature shared. Even she, she hates to admit, did not share it in the past. “And that is why we have sought to gain power, for when others don’t recognize that right.”

“I…” Doug stalls. He ponders for several seconds. “It’s hard to say. You have a right to life, but that’s a negative right. Other creatures shouldn’t take your life away, which is where the virus and its forceful converting fails. They aren’t required to provide for you, no more than you are required to provide for them.”

“Then what should we have done?” Chrysalis demands, her ire rising. “If you were in our hooves would you have ushered in a utopia? Is that it?”

Doug laughs, a short and sharp bark. “Hardly. I’m not that conceited. You had your reasons, and I’m sure they were good ones. But if the others see your continued existence as a threat to theirs? Then any increase in your power is something that must be countered. How can you convince them that your end goal isn’t to subjugate everycreature to your control?”

Chrysalis glances away.

Doug sighs, his hand pausing in her mane. “Okay, maybe that was your goal. But does it have to be now? If your survival isn’t at stake, what do you want to do with your life?”

“Do we need one?” Chrysalis asks plainly. She glances up at him. “We no longer hunger for love. We live and grow. Is that not enough?”

“I don’t think so,” Doug says with a shake of his head. “Because… I think our lives are more about the journey than the destination. As soon as we reach our goal, we need a new one. And the reason for that is, to put it bluntly, because life is suffering. If you don’t eat, you starve. You grow old and die. Well, maybe not you, but your ‘lings. We recognize that innately, in our core. If we don’t have something to strive for, then life becomes meaningless.”

“But we still need to get past the Council.” Chrysalis sighs. “And make them believe we have some goal other than conquest.”

“More importantly,” Doug says, “I think you need some goal other than conquest.”

“You think they will take our word?” Chrysalis spits out. “That the changelings have changed?”

“It won’t be just your word,” Doug reassures as he stands. His hand slips out of her mane as he walks away, a pleading, remorseful look in his eyes at the loss of contact. And yet there is hope. “Ready to go?”

Chrysalis stands, perhaps against her better judgement, and follows.

Next Chapter: Ch. 19 - Survival Instincts, Part Five Estimated time remaining: 29 Hours, 16 Minutes