Chrysalis stares at the pink, purple and gold tail as it retreats off the stage amid a bevy of ferocious stomps and booming claps, not all of which come from the Equestrian division. Disquiet stirs in her heart, a pang of regret. It couldn’t be from indigestion or heartburn, she’s never had that problem, even with a large meal. No, it is directed at her hasty action earlier. It made her seem, well, grubbish, no more than a newly hatched larva, thoughts reaching no further than her immediate survival.

She had no idea any of the Princesses, much less Cadance, would have defended her and her brood in such a direct and unequivocal manner. And certainly not so provocatively, a way that practically invites the other creatures, especially the griffons, to test the limits of the ponies’ resolve. She thought her lead mare harbored as much animosity for her as Tempest Shadow clearly shows the four alicorns. Perhaps she was wrong earlier.

And yet she can sense duplicity in the alicorn’s fiery facade, the stalwart bulwark she placed in front of Chrysalis. And that sense is only confirmed when Cadance reaches Shining Armor, trading a tender kiss before nestling her head under his. She can barely make out the words through the din of continued cheers.

“You did a great job up there,” Shining Armor commends, scratching his face against her long horn. He smiles as he nuzzles her closely. “I really like seeing that passionate side of yours.” He stretches so she can see his wink. “When do I get to see that side again?”

“Oh, you,” Cadance teases, clearly loving the way he drapes his head across her neck and mane. But then she sighs, meets Chrysalis’ staring eyes and whispers, a whisper that reaches across the distance and to no others. “I only wish I believed it as strongly as I made it out to be.”

“Hey.” Shining Armor doubles his efforts to console his mare as Chrysalis grimly purses her lips. “That’s something we can work on, right?”

“Mm,” Cadance mutters, dropping down until her head rests against her hooves. Shining Armor follows, worried but content to rest against her until she is ready.

Alira returns to the podium, a hush spreading over the auditorium. “We have heard from the Princess of Love. Next, Iron Grip of Minos.” She hurriedly retreats off the stage, joining Haakim.

And she retreats for good reason. If Cadance owned the stage by pacing back and forth, the massive minotaur looks ready to dominate it purely by standing still and flexing. Each of the trunks most might call arms bulge with muscles, forearms wider than a pony’s barrel, hands that might crush a skull like a sparrow’s egg. And while his brother Iron Will must have skipped leg day to work on his assertiveness seminars, Iron Grip clearly hasn’t, rippling calf-sized calves thudding against the floor with every step. But atop that formidable form is a gregarious smile which he turns at Cadance as soon as he leaps onto the stage, sending the entire room shuddering.

“Excellent speech!” the minotaur booms, lauding the pink Princess with three more meaty claps and a toothy smile. “The passion! The love!” He shadow boxes several swift strikes, fists snapping the air like a whip. “If Iron Grip could be as assertive as a dynamo like you, then heifers would flock to his side! Even though it is hard to get to Iron Grip, because Iron Grip lives inside of a giant maze! But they would try!”

Visible gusts of wind burst through the auditorium from his last shout, blowing manes and tails wildly.

“Ooh,” Twilight Sparkle moans to nopony in particular, having been scratching down notes the entire time. Her glowing horn gives her a chance of keeping them all in order. “Do minotaurs actually live in mazes? I thought that was just a cultural stereotype!”

“They would try,” Iron Grip repeats, flexing his arms and stomach. “Heifers big and small, piebald and plain, young and old! Wait, not old. Iron Grip not interested in old heifer! Something wrong with cow that has no calf after many years!”

He holds a bicep flex for several long seconds, expecting applause or at least something instead of an awkward silence. He looks around the audience, ending on the Princesses. They stare back, Luna’s unrestrained glare intensifying while Celestia leans her head against Doug’s.

One of the two goats bleats something unintelligible.

“Oh! Right! Thank you, Shackle!” The minotaur turns his stare into a thumbs up and wide grin. “Iron Grip glad ancient Princesses find love after many, many years!”

Luna growls while Celestia’s smile grows a little more strained.

“I think,” Rarity quietly comments to Applejack as she fixes her mane, “he might have taken a few too many blows to the head.”

“Full-fledged bucks, more like it,” Applejack returns.

“He’s wonderful,” Fluttershy moans out, enraptured by Iron Grip’s over-the-top performance.

“And Iron Grip glad changelings find love, too!” Two beefy arms, one above the head and the other stretched straight, point at Queen Chrysalis. “Which brings Iron Grip to the first of Iron Grip’s two points!”

He holds the pose for an uncomfortably long amount of time before the other goat bleats something.

“Right! Thank you, Billy!” Iron Grip pulls out a chewed-up book from somewhere, the ragged condition getting Twilight to gasp. He flips through, a few pages falling out. His already beady eyes constrict into pinpricks as he studiously studies the page. “Ah ha!” He throws the book to the floor, again pointing at Chrysalis as Twilight faints. “When the City of Trot tried to block with a wall, you proved you are one they cannot stall!!”

Chrysalis holds her neutral expression, inwardly grimacing. She didn’t think the minotaur was capable of setting a trap like this, but the glint in his eyes proves it was no mistake. If she accepts the praise, she acknowledges that she is a menace. But she can’t deny it; the history book in his hand accurately depicts her actions. What was Doug saying about reframing?

Iron Grip reaches down, delicately picks up the book and reads in a low, quick voice, “By hiding inside a Trotan Pony, you bypassed their considerable defenses.” He spins, pointing at one of the ponies from the Realm of Clouds, the mountainous area near Klugetown and outside of Equestria. “And thanks to Princess Celestia’s timely arrival, the city was saved! Though Emperor Incitatus was never the same.”

“A good thing, too,” Chrysalis adds. Iron Grip steps to the side, tucking the book away and giving her plenty of room to dig. She continues with a wry, fangy smile. “Your Emperor cared only for himself and nothing for his people, outside of how they could elevate him. His delicious pride was his downfall, and your city has only improved since.”

Iron Grip glowers briefly, only for a shout to come from the back.

“And what of the cities that never recovered?” Tempest Shadow bellows. “What of Timbuktu! What of the ponies whose lives and livelihoods you have devoured!?”

“Indeed!” Iron Grip agrees, pounding one hand into the other. It makes a dull, echoing *thud* that Chrysalis imagines would knock even an earth pony senseless. “Changeling people may have found love! But this does not excuse their many crimes!”

“I must remind the Council,” Celestia begins, bringing the room to a standstill. Her voice is not raised, nor whispered, yet carries as if she is standing next to every individual. “That we have forgiven crimes of nations and individuals. I will not name names or numbers. But know that there are those, even among us now, that have caused worse, and threatened worse, than the accused standing before us.”

At first, eyes are directed at the griffons. Even Delegate Gruff has the good sense to hunker down, a contrite and almost pleading look in his eye. For it had been a mere generation ago that ponies were hunted in Griffon lands, and only those strong enough to defend themselves dared venture.

Then focus turns to the dragons, who delight in razing villages and sometimes more. Tensions grow hot when the shortest route of their generational migration takes them through Equestrian lands, the mountains of the west and north their ancestral destination. It takes a strong Dragon Lord to restrain the hundreds of vicious predators, and even a crack team of Wonderbolts could do little against a dozen hungry dragons that spot a multicolored meal far below. And now, with Dragon Lord Torch - one of the staunchest allies of Equestria the dragons have ever fielded - retiring? The clutch looking to contest his place holds little respect for the ponies.

And then they turn to Luna, yet ignorant of her being the true target of Celestia’s words. For none but the alicorn sisters know the full extent of her treachery. And while some might laugh about ‘never seeing the sun’, very few understand how far her desperation for adoration and devotion would have taken her.

“And they have been forgiven,” Celestia continues, drawing every eye back to herself. “The slate wiped clean and welcomed with open hooves. They repented, honestly and truly, and strove to adhere to what we hold most dear.”

She indicates Cadance with a nod of her head, the pink alicorn hugging her husband as they both stand. “Love.”

Twilight drops her quill as her five closest friends gather together, Doug standing in for Pinkie Pie, beaming as Celestia motions at them next. “Friendship, and the Elements of Harmony.”

Celestia’s gaze turns to Luna. She opens her mouth but no sound comes out, no words capable of expressing the love they share. Tears wet the corners of her eyes, shimmering as they fall to the floor. She lunges forward, embracing her Sister in a deep, longing hug. She manages to choke out a single word. “Spike?”

Spike freezes as everycreature turns to him. The room is silent, none even daring to draw breath. Yet something in the back of his mind bubbles forth, words dredging from some unknown place that just feel right. He sings; a soft, high pitched, childish voice, yet one that reaches into everycreature.

“~But if day can turn to night? And the darkness turn to light? Then why can’t we imagine? A changeling can change?~”

His words settle into silence, leaving the changeling queen alone on the stage.

She can see, in her mind’s eye, the crossroads in front of her. One way, the way that loops back to where she came, is bright if barren. Ground she has trod many a time before, but she knows how little it sustains. The other way is dark, a dense jungle full of brambles and shade that hides the predators within. There is opportunity there, but also danger.

If she goes down this new path? It would be difficult, difficult beyond imagining. There could be no half-measures. She would need to commit body and spirit, and not just her own but her brood’s as well. Like Cadance, she would need to display a confidence that she did not yet possess. But it would not be a lie; no, she would be presenting the ideal she would pursue, a goal that she would strive for but might never attain.

“Everything I did,” Chrysalis states solemnly, her steady gaze sweeping across the room. “Everything the changeling race has done, we did for our survival. We tried everything we could think of. From kittens and puppies to raising ponies as our own. But ponies require actualization to provide nourishment, something not present in lesser animals. We tried individual infiltration and indiscriminate invasion. Yet every time we were found out, our plots uncovered, we were castigated as monsters. And despair, while potentially nourishing, is not a viable long-term solution.”

She pauses, taking a deep breath and stares at the floor.

“I take it all as my own. Every failure, every foiled attempt, every fault. It is no excuse, and I cannot take back my actions. But now I see that there is a better way. The way of friendship and love. The way of the Tenets of Harmony.” Each pony perks their head up as she names their Element. “Of truth, generosity, loyalty, kindness, and laughter. And anything that stands in that way I will cast aside.”

An emerald-shod hoof raises to her head, pulling the blackened crown from her mane. She studies the small blue gems for a long moment. It feels strange, to no longer have the weight on her head. But as much as it meant to her before, this is more important now.

“This used to be the crown of King Orion of Timbuktu,” she explains, remorse filling her words. “I took it as a prize when I destroyed his city. I thought it would be a glorious reminder of our strength. I could have taken many others, for my misdeeds are as numerous as the stars we scattered above.” Her head bows penitently. “But I was wrong. And as I cast aside this crown, I cast aside my title of ‘Queen’.”

Chrysalis tosses the crown to the stage. It digs a divot into the wood, clattering and rolling onto the floor. She ignores it.

Murmurs erupt in the audience, glances trading back and forth. Most cannot believe what they just saw, or wonder if it merely another ruse, or calculate just how much they can trust this ‘transformation’.

“For a queen takes pride in what she rules.” Chrysalis shakes her head at the futility. “But I shall take pride in what I create, in what I build. For I shall henceforth be known as Chief Architect Chrysalis!”

An ebony hoof raises, prompting a cheer from the ponies. But Chrysalis’ grand stance is short-lived, replaced by a meek and hopeful smile she directs to the other creatures.

“But all that depends on having the chance to prove ourselves.” Chrysalis drops to a low, respectful bow. It seems unbecoming, but that is because it is, a humility on display she has never tried before. “Please, I beg of you. Do not cut this journey short, just as it begins.”

She holds the uncomfortable pose for long moments, long enough for Alira to clear her throat as she walks to the podium. “If there is nothing else?”

The minotaur shakes his head. “Iron Grip’s second point was to ask what she wishes to do. Iron Grip has answer to Iron Grip’s question.” With that he returns to his seat. Nocreature else does anything but watch the changeling hold her subservient bow.

“Very well. We shall vote on the fate of… Chief Architect Chrysalis.” Alira jots a quick note before looking at Raikou. “How votes the Storm Realm?”

The Storm King ponders for a long moment, his hand brushing his bristly chin. “The Storm Realm votes yes. To live.”

Tempest Shadow snorts, her angry glare at her king unmistakable.

“What?” Raikou retorts. “I’m all about second chances!” He jabs a finger at her. “You should know that.”

“Yes, my liege,” Tempest Shadow dutifully answers, her heart clearly not in her reply.

Alira turns to Garble. “And the Dragons?”

“All this talk about friendship and love?” The red dragon shakes his head, gagging. The teal dragon next to him nods in agreement. “I don’t buy it. Especially not from her. The Dragons vote no.”

Chrysalis drops a little more. She had been expecting that, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept that she is one step closer to the edge.

Alira marks on her sheet. “The Yaks?”

Prince Rutherford shakes his head as he gets up. “Yak not have history with changelings. Ponies do what they want. Yak abstain.” He settles back down, and with his thick hair it is impossible to tell if he is pleased with the proceedings or not.

“Oh, no,” Twilight whispers, mirroring Chrysalis’ uneasy gulp. “If the vote is tied, the tiebreakers are the permanent members. Equestria takes precedence, but they didn’t vote, so it passes to…” She turns a fearful eye at Garble. “The Dragons.”

Alira continues. “Minos?”

Iron Grip cracks his neck, then his knuckles, then his back. “If Iron Will can get ponies to be more assertive, like minotaurs, then Iron Grip sees no reason that ponies cannot get changelings to act like friends. Iron Grip votes yes.”

Alira makes another note. “The Griffons?”

A low cackle accompanies the unnerving clink of claws tapping against each other. Everycreature holds their breath as Delegate Gruff stands, and if a beak could smile his would stretch from ear to ear.

“I have waited for this,” he chortles wickedly, raking a talon across the floor. It sends shivers along spines, and one can imagine the many animals he has sliced open in such a manner.

“But,” Gruff says as he pauses, cocking his head as he inspects the contrite changeling. His one good eye gleams with greed. “One cannot get much out of a corpse. A meal or two. Ten in your case. But not much.” He eyes her, avarice plain, his claws reaching out and grasping.

“If that is what it takes,” Chrysalis answers, despising that she has to purchase her freedom but thankful for the opportunity regardless. “Then we shall help build Griffonstone into a gleaming beacon, a testament to the griffons!”

The former queen raises her head, awaiting her verdict with some measure of honor.

One can almost hear the sound of bits clanging together in the griffon’s covetous expression. “Then the Griffons vote yes.”

“Chief Architect Chrysalis,” Alira states formally, quelling the growing rumbles among the crowd, “your decision has been reached. You will be remanded as an Equestrian citizen, as will your brood. The full details will be provided at a later time, including negotiating what service you will provide to the Griffons. In the meantime, we will reconvene after lunch for…” she glances down at her notes, then gulps. “A potentially world-shattering… discussion.”

Chrysalis can merely stare as the griffon takes his seat. She only registers something is amiss when a white blur attempts to tackle her and fails, bouncing back and falling on his rump. She glances over, still dumbfounded, at her stallion as he rubs his head. The ponies behind him cheer and stomp their hooves, but everything sounds distorted and unreal. They all pass in a colorful blur, spinning around and around, blending into each other as they surround and congratulate until the world turns a merciful and quiet black.

Next Chapter: Ch. 21 - Spirited Response, Part One Estimated time remaining: 28 Hours, 56 Minutes