“Yup,” Chrysalis purrs happily. “Absolutely nothing.” She takes another deep inhale, luxuriating blissfully. “I want nothing from you. I get nothing from you. It’s perfect.”

After a long moment that mostly consists of disgruntled huffs from Doug and a moratorium on scratches, Chrysalis opens one eye, glancing up curiously. “What? You stopped!”

“Just before all this,” Doug says coldly, “you were ready to jump me behind Songbird Serenade’s concert. And now I’m nothing to you?”

“You were always nothing to me,” Chrysalis says defensively. She grunts as she turns away, grimacing. Her head lowers slightly, perhaps reluctantly if it was anypony else. “No, that’s not true.”

Doug looks annoyed at first but says, “Hey,” somewhat cheerfully as his hand resumes scratching. “You’re getting better about that.”

Chrysalis scowls. “Don’t remind me.” She takes a deep breath, visibly relaxing. “I’m serious.” One eye narrows, unsuccessfully attempting to glare. “It is unbecoming of a Queen to show weakness.”

Doug chuckles at her brazen assertion; it reminds him of when Rainbow Dash tries to appear tough and instead appears adorable. Or maybe that’s her master plan. “And, so, every hit you take off me is…”

“Nothing.” Chrysalis snuggles closer to Doug.

“You keep h’using that word,” Doug says with a stilted Spanish accent. “I do not think it means, what you think it means.”

“Urgh,” Chrysalis moans, rubbing her head. “You’re going to make me explain this, aren’t you. At least-”

A lavender alicorn stealthily wedges herself in the railing, wings flapping furiously after she squeezed out the porthole. A quill dances in her raspberry aura, delight sparkles in her eyes, an eagerness in her muzzle few could match.

“-Twilight is listening in,” Chrysalis continues, even though the alicorn’s approach had been silent and behind her.

“Aww,” Twilight says, canceling her noise-suppressing spell. “What gave it away?”

“I sense emotions from everycreature around me,” Chrysalis explains candidly. She flicks her mane in Twilight’s direction. “For example: dollops of eagerness, a pinch of disappointment, and an insatiable curiosity that rivals my own, yet for knowledge instead of love.” She frowns slightly, adjusting her legs uncomfortably, something tunneling under her and rocking her back and forth, except they are on an airship. “The pangs of hunger faded with this transformation, but the centuries have inculcated an insistent inclination apropos accumulation.” Her frown deepens. “Availing all aforementioned aberrant activities activated an alternate archetype, allowing an example of allocating assets unaccompanied by antagonistic absconsion.”

Chrysalis stands slightly, hooves rummaging around underneath her until something makes a high-pitched squeak. She grins maliciously, whipping out a poofy pink-maned party pony.

“I thought I told you-” the changeling grits out as she holds Pinkie Pie as far away as her forelegs can “-not to mess with me.”

“Aww, don’t be such a party pooper!” Pinkie Pie, despite being the much smaller of the two, reaches up and jams a gaudy pink party hat on Chrysalis’ horn. It’s about half as long as it needs to be and ends up speared through the top of the cone. All three Princesses have difficulty repressing their giggles. “Nopony got the last one. That means it’s your turn!”

Chrysalis growls, to no effect on Pinkie’s unflappable grin. “Fine. I spy… something with a dozen P’s.”

“Only twelve?” Pinkie Pie says to herself. “Let’s see. A persistent pink pony pressuring piqued passersby to participate in presenting puzzles primarily pertaining to optics?”

Chrysalis smiles forebodingly. “Indeed.”

“Oh, silly,” Pinkie Pie says with a series of comforting taps to Chrysalis’ head, the changeling none too happy and a little confused at how she closed the distance. “I’ve already been used as an answer! You’ll need to come up with another clue.”

“How about this one,” Chrysalis says evenly. She proceeds to chuck the earth pony clear across the ship where she collides with Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash with the sound of a bowling ball striking pins.

“That’ll work!” Pinkie Pie shouts. The other three grumble, rubbing their sides, before setting out for the helm, possibly to assault the changeling with their own puzzles.

“There,” Chrysalis says, slapping her hooves together a few times. “Does that answer your question?”

“Actually,” Twilight says, her muzzle buried in a few pieces of parchment.

“Oh,” Chrysalis deadpans. “You kept notes.”

Twilight ignores her. “You were talking about how your transformation made it so you didn’t feel the effects of love malnourishment as acutely?” She glances up. “That about right?”

“More accurately,” Chrysalis replies, taking a small bit of pleasure in correcting the alicorn, “sharing affection ameliorates that all-consuming…”

The changeling stands, glaring down between her legs.

A muffled, “Whaat?” can be heard echoing underneath her. “I just want to make everypony smile!”

“And all the ‘A’ alliteration?” Chrysalis inquires darkly.

“That’s just for the first hour! Then it’s on to the ‘B’s!”

Chrysalis plops back down, squashing out the voice like an annoying arthropod. She grins, an imitation more telling than when a changeling accidentally crosses paths with the pony they are impersonating.

And just as quickly her taut cheeks sag down to her baseline malevolent glare. She glances over as the rest of the Elements crest the short rise and arrange themselves in a loose circle. Spike joins them shortly after, sitting next to Twilight.

“Sharing love,” Chrysalis continues normally, as if the previous encounter never happened, “fixes the underlying issue, much like feeding somepony ‘cures’ them of dizziness and fatigue.”

“What do you do for energy instead?” Doug asks. “I assume, of course, that you can’t just share love back and forth forever.”

“If that worked?” A soft snicker escapes from the changeling’s maw, its many compatriots cut off by clenched teeth. She can’t hold them in for long, scraping at the deck while a genuine smile spreads across her muzzle. “If that worked… Equus would be overrun in a decade! Half with no opposition.”

“Seriously?” Rainbow Dash contends, crossing her forelegs.

“You doubt my words?” The jeer skids across Chrysalis’ muzzle like a pink pony across the deck. Despite Rainbow Dash making no motion to the contrary she explains, “A changeling becomes sexually mature about three years after the egg is formed. Given infinite energy, I - or any other changeling so disposed - can produce one egg a day. Starting with only myself? In three years I would have a thousand breeders. In seven?” Her sneer intensifies. “Millions.”

Rainbow Dash’s mouth hangs open, gawking at the changeling. Fluttershy, ever the helpful neighbor, pushes it shut.

“It’s over nine million,” Twilight says, aghast. She crushes up her quill, flecks of black spilling out of her hoof. “That’s more than everycreature else combined. Hay, you could include animals and not reach that number.”

“Alas,” Chrysalis says with a heavy sigh, “energy does not come from nothing. It comes from trees. Animals. Really, anything with carbon. And water. Like Betsy here.” She lightly taps her side. The motion is extremely subtle, her barrel rippling with continuous churning.

“Hey!” Applejack states forcefully, glaring. “Talk about her with more respect.” She mutters to herself, “Though that would explain why the price’a meat’s been goin’ up so quick.”

“Mm,” Chrysalis growls, but it’s directed at herself. She looks upwards, focusing on nothing. “It is difficult. To think of prey…” She pauses, mulling over the words. “To think of ponies, to think of all creatures, as more than bags of nutrients and emotions, to be carefully cultivated so their love can be extracted.”

“But of all creatures,” Spike says from the side, “I would imagine that changelings could change.”

Chrysalis allows a thin grin to play across her muzzle. “You must have been talking to Thorax. Did he move to Ponyville?”

Spike smirks. “You can’t fool me! I know you know where each and every changeling ended up.”

Chrysalis concedes the point with a slight shrug. “He was always such a pain… That is, he was reticent, the hardest to convince of our plans. Always going off about love and friendship.” She idly stares down at her hoof, then glances at Luna. “I can’t help but wonder if he and his brother had been able to keep you in your tower, that things might be different.”

“Doubtful,” the cobalt alicorn asserts without moving from her resting place. “Different, perhaps, but doubtful they would be better for anypony, or anyling, involved.”

Before Chrysalis can retort Spike jumps in. “But, yeah! Thorax is pretty cool. He joined up with the Rich’s.” He chuckles to himself. “Probably for the best, too. He’ll be a good influence on them.” Spike pauses for a second. “Actually, should I call him ‘he’? He always struck me as a guy, but he’s also kind of carrying Filthy’s foal.”

“Call them what seems natural,” Chrysalis answers. “They’ll correct you if needed.” Her muzzle pulls to a slight smirk. “I have heard that the Crystal Ponies have a special name for the gallant defender of their Empire.” She lumbers to her hooves and offers a sincere bow. “Spike, Glorious and Brave.”

“Actually,” Spike corrects, puffing his chest up, “it’s ‘The Brave and Glorious Spike.’”

“Trixie helped,” Twilight says as an aside. Spike turns to glare at her while the other mares snicker.

“The Brave and Glorious Spike,” Chrysalis states imperially, her head high. She backs away from Doug, disguising the movement with another low bow. “May your horde glitter with gems from far, wide, high, and low.” She grins as the ponies politely stomp their hooves, gulping down the adoration like a pig at a trough.

Doug glances around, perplexed at the disappearance of his pet-ee. Rainbow Dash swoops down, gleefully taking the coveted spot and twisting so his fingers hit the perfect spot at the base of her ears. They waggle back and forth, though not as pugilistically as the earth pony’s, enticing him to quicker jabs and varied angles lest he gets thwacked.

Chrysalis watches the two keenly, her ears imitating Dash’s. She meets Doug’s eyes when he glances at her, querying with a tilt of his head, and sighs. “To answer your original question,” she says, making an effort to keep her voice less abrasive, “you are… neutral. You neutralize whatever emotion I am feeling. And since I automatically… nibble on anycreature in range? It is anathema when filled by love, but to a ‘ling surrounded by disgust and hate?”

“We don’t mean ‘ta,” Applejack says quietly, pulling her hat off to hold at her chest. “Honest.”

“You’re just, kinda, creepy,” Rainbow Dash adds bluntly. She sighs, resting more of her weight on Doug. He doesn’t mind at all.

“And with the stories you’ve told us?” Fluttershy shudders, shying down.

Chrysalis’ fanged grin returns. “That I could drain a room full of ponies of their power?” Her long, forked tongue licks at her fangs, relishing the memories.

“Saying things like that doesn’t help,” Rarity says abruptly, echoing the thoughts of most of the others. “Do try to remember your audience.”

A rare expression of remorse crosses the black maw.

“What about me?” Spike asks curiously. “Do dragons, um, taste like ponies?”

“Every other dragon I have encountered loves only themselves. Coupled with their innate resistance to magic? We gain almost nothing.” Chrysalis sniffs at the air, frowning slightly, ignoring Spike's put-out reaction. “But with you? Your pony upbringing has made you an exception. Perhaps… carbon aerosolized into sugar?”

“Cool,” Spike says, flexing his arms. Then he sighs, looking down at his claws. “But that just means I’m even less of a dragon.”

“I don’t care how much of a dragon you are,” Twilight reassures, drawing Spike in for a warm hug. “You know that I, and everypony…” She glances at Chrysalis. “Do you consider yourself a pony?”

Chrysalis twists her hoof this way and that, inspecting it from every angle. She finds it a little disconcerting to not see the holes, the ancient battle-scars of her fight with Celestia. “Our natural form is undeniably equine,” she concedes. “And we owe our existence to a unicorn of antiquity; had he not deposited his essence, we might never have come about.” Her wings fan out, reflecting the mid-morning sun in a brilliant display of emerald. “Though we aren’t sure where the wings are from. Perhaps the insects on which we used to dine?”

“A unicorn of antiquity?” Twilight asks curiously. Her forehead scrunches up adorably. “Star Swirl the Bearded? And what do you mean by ‘deposited’?”

“The same. He released his bottled seed into the maw of a magical carnivorous plant in the middle of a swamp. The only thing we have to remember him by was a sign condemning us.” Chrysalis shrugs nonchalantly. “As to the reason, you would have to ask him yourself; we never crossed paths again.”

“...Huh.” Twilight blinks a few times, then shakes her head to clear out the images detailing how an elderly unicorn would go about ‘bottling his seed’. Though, if he had done it, then maybe it isn’t so bad. Could there be other applications?

But that’s a discussion for another time. Preferably with flowcharts instead of pictures. She turns to Spike, a warm smile spreading across her muzzle as she nuzzles him. “All of your friends love and care for you, no matter what.”

“Aww, thanks, Twi,” Spike says, but he’s not fully content. He finds his gaze stretching to the southeast, to the ash-spewing volcanoes and calderas that make up the ancestral home of the Dragons. He’s seen them in action when the Dragon Migration visited Equestria. But what would they be like closer to their native land, and not beset on every side by ponies and their customs?

None of the mares are especially eager to pick up the conversation, and gradually drift off to their own devices. Celestia, horn lit a soft gold, gains a far-off look, scrying the reams of paper in her office periodically turning from a gentle breeze. It doesn’t take long for Doug to regret volunteering his services as a pilot, but at least he can stave off boredom by making sure he doesn’t get too far behind on managing Equestria’s weather, splitting his attention between a few thin packets and the airship ahead.

Chrysalis slinks back to Doug, displacing a snoozing Rainbow Dash, and finds herself contemplating the future. She cannot recall a time before this that her contingency plans revolve around bolstering bastions, because blowing the borough and bivouacking barely backfired.

Bubbles blow from bated breath, black brows breezing backward, bent on breaking that bouncing bother!

Next Chapter: Ch. 5 - Unstable Payload, Part One Estimated time remaining: 31 Hours, 28 Minutes