Chapter Twenty Nine

The Coming Storm

It was not easy to handle the renewed wrath of three mares, especially when Spike had no back-up from Chrysalis. With her powerful magic, she could easily wipe the floor with all of them, and yet... she remained in the corner, not saying a word as she took every insult and accusation sent her way. Ever since her confession, she had remained this way, and yet Spike hadn’t the faintest idea as to why.

“Did you know about this?” Maria had demanded first. “Did you know Meia wasn’t... real?”

“I just found out last night,” Spike said, sighing for what felt like the fifth time in under a minute. “She told me in confidence.”

“How could you not know Meia wasn’t real?” the Spreignish noblemare asked. “You are a dragon! Aren't you supposed to be able to... tell these sorts of things?”

“She is real, it’s just... she and Chrysalis are one in the same. The same feelings, the same soul, the same heart, the same... everything,” he replied. Wow, that was kind of deep, even for him.

“But... she looks so different! She is nothing like Meia!” Maria said, struggling to find the right words. Spike’s answer had been rather thorough, as if he had thought these kinds of questions out beforehand.

“So your biggest problem is how she looks?” Spike asked, incredulous and a little angry. What about how he looked? What about how their foals would look? Would she have a problem with that too?

“Well, that, and she lied to us!” Trixie said, crossing her arms over her larger stomach. She was really starting to show, and even though she was beginning to have that beautiful pregnant glow, she could still look intimidating somehow. “Have you forgotten her invasion of our home? Of Canterlot? From what I hear, she almost ruined the wedding of Twilight’s older brother: one of your relatives!”

“Yes, yes, I know and remember all of that,” Spike said, wishing he could curl up and go back to sleep. The only problem was he’d likely have that same nightmare again, which was something he definitely did not want. “I could never forget that invasion, Trixie: I still have trouble sleeping when I think about it too much. She is not the same now as she was back then: I assure you. She has changed for good: I truly believe that.”

“How can you be so sure? She fooled you: she fooled all of us,” Asalah said, her voice rather soft for somepony who was supposed to be mad. If anything, she sounded almost... sad. “She dishonored you and the rest of us with her lies: do you not care?”

“Of course I care! Can’t anypony see I’m upset over this too? How else do think I would react to the news that the pony I married and who is carrying my foal is not only not who she said she was, but was fooling all of us originally for some great evil plot? How do you think I feel about that?” Spike asked rather loudly, causing his three non-changeling wives to take an involuntary step back.

Spike sighed at their actions: this would only get worse before it got better, and it would take a long time, with plenty of patience, to do so. “Listen, I know you are all upset: believe me, so am I. But please, please, can we just take this slow? I don’t want any more fighting, and right now I’m tired of secrets coming to light. So, for the time being, can we just... go on about our lives?”

Trixie and Maria harrumphed at this, leaving the room in a swishing of clothes, manes and tails. Asalah stood where she was, seemingly in thought. Of the three, she had been the least accusing, though Spike wanted to know why.

“Anything left to add?” Chrysalis asked, looking at the zebra. “Any more barbs to throw my way? Any more accusations or put-downs?”

Asalah merely glanced over at Spike before striding over to Chrysalis and doing something completely unexpected: she gave her a hug. Not a light, meaningless one either: it was the deep hug of a friend, of a confidante.

“What... what is this?” Chrysalis asked, freezing as the zebra hugged her. She had not expected this: she doubted Spike had either, judging from the look on his face.

“I forgive you,” Asalah said softly, breaking from the embrace.

“But... why? Why so soon?” Spike asked, curious himself as to the zebra’s reasoning. “Weren’t you just going on about honor and dishonor?”

“She had to hide the truth, as she was taught,” Asalah said. “She was forced to wear the guise of a ruler meant to conquer, for her own kind’s sake. If she had been weak, or worse, weak-willed, she would not have lived long. She became strong, and in time her foals will be as well.”

“How would you possibly know that?” Chrysalis asked, her mouth hanging open in shock.

“Your culture is not so different from mine, it would seem,” the zebra replied, her hug only intensifying.

“But, that doesn’t-,” Spike began.

“There is more, Spike,” Asalah said, interrupting him for what may have been the first time in their entire marriage. “She is not unlike me: our cultures force us to wear trappings we do not necessarily want, to dress up ourselves in manners we do not see fit. We both have to wear disguises, whether of the flesh or of cloth. She has had to hide her feelings and true self for so long, she no longer knew who she was underneath it all. She became this “evil queen” of which you speak, through no fault of her own. Her shell, her exterior, became her, trapping the real Chrysalis underneath. I can see it in her, this frightened mare who just wanted something her normal life could not provide. Do you see what I am saying?”

“Y-yes, I suppose so,” Spike said as her words washed over him. He had no idea she was so insightful. “So, what you’re saying is... she wouldn’t have been like that all those years ago during the wedding if she hadn’t been forced to be what her kingdom needed?”

“Exactly, dear,” Asalah said turning to look at Chrysalis. “Am I wrong in saying these things, Chrysalis?”

“Well, I... no, you are not wrong,” Chrysalis said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I remember when I was younger: I was full of life, filled with the happiness young ponies know. I was carefree, and then I became queen.”

Her expression turned even more dour at that word: queen. “It couldn’t have been a worse time for my kind. Sandstorms whipped through our nation, destroying much of the little cropland we had been able to develop over the decades. With food shortages, a horrible terrible disease sprang up, and many changelings began to die in the catacombs of our capital. My kind cried out for relief, but no help would come our way. How could it? We were shunned, hated by other races: we still are, to this day. And as it grew worse, there were threats, even attempts on my life from those I had sworn to protect.”

Asalah and Spike looked at her with wide eyes: this was new. The changelings had a lost history, sure, but nopony other than a changeling really knew that history. There weren’t exactly any books on the subject currently in circulation.

“I... I did what I had for my kind and I to survive as a whole,” she continued softly. “The sick I had quarantined, the dead... turned into fertilizer for our fields. I put down revolt after revolt, slaughtering all who opposed me, and in the end... my carefree life was gone. I had become cold, heartless, and ruthless: I would do anything to see my dreams and my kind succeed. I was no longer Princess Chrysalis, the Gleaming Gemstone of the Changelings: I was Queen Chrysalis the Vicious, Tartarus-bent on succeeding at all costs.”

The other two were silent for a while as Chrysalis tried to regain her composure. Even now, after all these years, she could still remember the faces of those she had had executed, some who had only been trying to give their deceased a proper burial instead of turning them into fertilizer. It pained her to remember such times, even though they were far in the past.

“I am sorry, Chrysalis,” Asalah said, hugging her softly once more. Chrysalis hugged her back glad to know at least somepony sympathized with her plight. That was, until a pair of footsteps made them look up in time for two long, scaly arms to wrap around them both.

“I’m sorry too, Chrysalis,” Spike said gently. “I... I had no idea of what your life must have been like. I had no idea what you had gone through. I’m sorry I judged you so harshly.”

“It is all right, Spike,” Chrysalis said as she and Asalah nuzzled into him. “It is all right.”

They stood like that for a few minutes, content to just hug one another, until at last a door creaked open, with a zebra poking his head inside.

“Sir Spike Dragul? The sultan wishes to see you,” a servant said.

Spike, in a reluctant manner, broke away from the zebra and changeling. “I’d best go see what he wants,” he said softly. “I’ll see you two later, all right?” He gently cupped their chins up and gave each a soft kiss on the lips.

“Okay,” they both replied in unison, sounding somewhat dreamy as he walked off. When the door closed behind him, they found themselves completely alone.

“Chrysalis, would you like me to talk to the others?” Asalah asked softly.

“Yes, please,” Chrysalis replied softly, walking over and sitting down on the bed. “I... I’d do it myself, but I just... I just can’t deal with their accusations and dirty looks right now. Do you understand what I’m getting at?” She felt so tired, so worn out from all the crying and accusations: she just wanted to lie down and sleep some more.

“Yes, I do,” Asalah said quietly. As she walked by, she stopped and gave Chrysalis’s hand a soft squeeze. “It’ll be alright, Chrysalis,” she said. “They will come around: I am sure of it. We have come so far together, you more so than I: we can all make it through this.”

“Thank you Asalah,” the Changeling Queen said softly as the zebra left the room. “Thank you so much.”

Curling up at the foot of the bed, almost like a dog, Chrysalis closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

Meanwhile...

“I trust your stay has been enjoyable?” Abd-Al-Karim asked as he and Spike walked through some gardens. It was bright and sunny, with nary a cloud in the sky.

“Mostly,” Spike said truthfully.

“Mostly?” the sultan repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, there have been some... difficulties between us,” Spike said, not wanting to elaborate. “It’ll pass in time: it’s not the first time this has happened.” Well, it was, but the sultan didn’t need to know that.

“Well, then I trust you’ll be happy to know we have a fleet of ships en route from Saddle Arabia. I was informed that your next destination was that country, so I took the liberty of booking you passage on one of the ships.”

“Really?” Spike asked, surprised the zhorse planned this far ahead for someponies and somedragon he didn’t know. “Well... when are they scheduled to leave?”

“A week from today, I should think,” the hybrid replied, ducking under a low-hanging archway. “They would like to sooner, but our unicorn forecaster says some storms will be brewing soon enough. Until then, it’ll be too dangerous to travel.”
“But it looks fine out,” Spike said, gazing up at the sky.

“Appearances can be deceiving, my friend,” Abd-Al-Karim said, gazing up at the sky as well. “This time of year, storms can come and go as they please, often passing through violently.”

“All I can see are those clouds on the horizon over there,” Spike said, pointing in the distance.

“Then I suggest you get whatever leisure time you desire outside, for you won’t want to be outside for the next week,” the sultan said, looking calm at the prospect of torrential rains.

“A week inside with two hostile unicorns, one sympathetic zebra, and a changeling in the midst of an identity crisis?” Spike thought to himself after he and the sultan had parted ways. “This is going to be bad.”

Indeed it was, for no sooner than he made it back inside than a loud, distant boom rumbled across the sky.
“What was that?” a voice called out: it was Trixie.

“Thunder: the sultan said we’re going to be leaving for Saddle Arabia in a week,” Spike called back.

“What does that have to do with the thunder?” Trixie called out again.

“We won’t be going outside again until then,” Spike said, preparing for both storms: the one outside, and the one inside.

“What?!” a voice shouted, causing Spike to unintentionally flinch. Maria rushed out, half dressed and her hair half-done up in a set of buns. “It’s going to rain for a whole week, and we have to stay inside with... her?” she asked, brandishing a finger at the still-asleep Chrysalis.

“Yes, you are,” Spike said, crossing his arms. He was already getting tired of this fighting, even though he should be the one that was the most angry. “So I suggest you make the most of it, Maria: I don’t want any more fighting, understand?”

“But I- but she- you- GAH!” Maria shouted, stomping off back into her room and slamming the door. This was enough to wake up the Queen of the Changelings, her eyes fluttering open as she sat up and uncurled.

“What... what’s going on?” she asked lazily: a peal of thunder high above made her start.

“We’re set to leave for Saddle Arabia within one week, but between now and then, it’s going to be raining almost continuously. I suggest you try and get along with Trixie and Maria before we leave: cramped together on a boat will not help any of us.”

“Trixie and I have already... reconciled,” Chrysalis said. “Asalah served as the diplomat between us, and after a lengthy talk, we decided to put the past behind us.”

“But, you were asleep...” Spike said, trailing off in confusion.

“Can’t I wake up, talk, and then go back to sleep?” Chrysalis asked, her clothes clutching her bountiful figure while she stretched in bed. Some of Spike’s blood diverted from his brain and began to travel south...

“What about Maria?” Spike asked, trying to concentrate on something other than... her.

“No: she’s still taking it rather hard,” Chrysalis said softly, with a morose tone to boot. “I think it’s because we went through so much together as Maria and Meia. She... it’s like I betrayed her worse than you, in a way. I wasn’t just another one of your wives: I was a co-wife to her, and a best friend. I still wish to be, but right now...”

“It’s not the best time: I get it,” Spike said, sitting down on the bed as another rumble of thunder sounded above them. A servant rushed into the room and shut the windows, exiting the room in twenty seconds flat. “She’ll come around eventually.”

“That’s another thing: why aren’t you as mad at me now as you were when I first told you last night?” Chrysalis asked as Asalah entered the room behind their backs. However, on seeing the pair of them talking, she did a complete 180-degree turn and went back into her room without a sound.

“I... I thought on what you said,” Spike replied softly. “I know... I know what you did was wrong, and that my reactions were justifiable. It’s just... I can’t stop loving you.”

“You... you can’t?” Chrysalis asked, her heart fluttering within her chest.

“No. Chrysalis, you’re carrying one of my future foals: you poured your heart out to me, bared your soul to my scrutiny. How could I hate you?” Spike had indeed been thinking of this for a while now. He still felt hurt by the betrayal, but he was too kind of a dragon, too good of a dragon to stay angry at her for long. He didn’t get over it in a heartbeat: it was still there, like a slow-burning ember. It would take time for his pain, however reduced, to go completely away.

“I’m... I’m sorry Spike: for everything,” Chrysalis said a now loud boom of thunder sounded overhead. Within seconds, a few pattering raindrops fell against the window. Then more, and more, and more, until one could not even see through the glass, so heavy was the downpour.

“I’ll have a server bring us supper,” Spike said, gesturing to the table in the room. Standing up off the bed and walking over to the door, he went outside and found one such server, jostling to the sultan’s quarters with a tray of desserts.

After asking for something special, Spike returned to find all four of his wives once again in the main room. The temperature could have dropped five degrees, so chilly was the gaze from Maria to Chrysalis.

“Supper will be on its way shortly,” Spike said, closing the door behind him.

“So soon?” Asalah asked. “It is not nearly late enough for supper.”

“Yes, well, none of us really ate lunch, and it’ll be getting darker, earlier, with all this rain,” Spike said, his wings rustling behind him. Oh, how he missed a good flight: he had not done so in so long, it was beginning to feel like an itch. It almost reminded him of that time Rainbow Dash had discovered the joys of reading whilst she was in the hospital after injuring her wing. “That means we’ll be tucking in earlier, all right?”

There were a few mumbles of agreement, with Maria shooting Chrysalis another icy glare before stalking off, muttering something about “dinner attire”. Spike sighed: this was going to be a long night.

When supper arrived, it was delightful enough: several tropical fruits like pineapple, bananas and oranges, rice seasoned with some very tasty curry powder, grilled vegetables, and even some very sweet desserts served with several kinds of nuts. All in all, a very tasty and exotic meal, something they had not had in a while: they all seemed to enjoy it.

But, alas, as soon as the meal was over, Maria went off to her room after bidding Spike and the others goodnight. Except for Chrysalis,: she merely looked at her with cold eyes and walked off, her hoof-steps disappearing behind her door.

“We’d best get to bed: it is getting late,” Spike said, knowing full well it wasn’t. But with the clouds and the rain outside, it could have easily been mistaken for late in the evening. Everypony bid Spike and one another goodnight before walking off to their rooms, upon which Spike blew out the candles they had eaten by. With thin trails of smoke wafting from the wicks, Spike undressed at the foot of the bed and crawled under the covers.

Booms of thunder sounded above him as the rain continued to pour down on the island. Every now and then, a flash of lightning would shine through his closed eyelids, interrupting his natural process of falling asleep. After a particularly loud boom of thunder, Spike heard something unexpected: a door opening.

“Hello?” he called, hearing hoof-steps. Looking through the darkness, his night vision easily saw who was approaching him.

“Maria?” he asked as she slid up next to him. “What... what are you doing here?”

“The thunder... It scared me,” she said softly, crawling under the covers and snuggling up next to him as best she could. “I... I wanted to be by your side: you make me feel safe.”

Spike had a feeling something was about go wrong. Another door creaked open, and when he looked at who it was, he knew he was right.

“Chrysalis?” he asked as she too climbed into bed on his other side.

“What are you doing here?” Maria hissed, her gentle demeanor vanishing in an instant.

“I was scared by the thunder,” Chrysalis said simply, snuggling up next to Spike as well.

“I got here first: be gone,” Maria said, clutching tightly at Spike as if to pull him away from his second wife.

“We will share him, as we always have,” Chrysalis replied, snuggling closer.

Maria looked positively murderous. “We have never shared him: I have shared him with Meia. You are not Meia.”

“All right, that’s it!” Spike said, his sudden grunt making them both squeak in surprise. He looked them both in the eyes before sitting up slightly. “Okay, this is how it’s going to be: you two are going to try, and I insist try, and make up, understand? I will have no more of this ludicrous fighting or arguing, all right? I am tired of it: no, I am sick of it!”

He turned to Chrysalis. “You need to try and see things more from her perspective, all right? I know you’ve been trying, but try a little harder please?”

He turned to Maria in an instant. “And you: Chrysalis is Meia. End of story, okay? She knows what she did was wrong, and she’s done so much trying to apologize for it. So, as of right now, I want to see you try and make good with her, understand?”

Neither responded: Spike let out a low growl. “Understand?”

“Yes,” they both replied meekly.

“All right: good,” he said, leaning back and not hearing two other doors creak open. “Anything else to get off your chests?”

“Can we sleep with you as well?” two voices asked. Spike looked over to see Asalah and Trixie standing by the bed with small blankets.

He suppressed a groan and closed his eyes. “Go right ahead.” He didn't mind, actually: the bed was more than big enough for them all to snuggle in.

The other two mares climbed on top of the sheets and snuggled up against Spike’s legs, with Maria and Chrysalis, inexplicably turned on by Spike’s show of force, snuggled up to his arms.

Even as the thunder rumbled outside and the lightning flashed through the sky, they all slept soundly, especially Spike. No nightmares visited him that night.

Many, many miles away, a lone figure stood upon the rocky coastline, carrying a large bundle in his arms. The wind tore at his clothes, and the rain lashed at his pelt, but he stood solid, stoic in his demeanor. The lightning flashed around him, but he did not stir: the thunder rumbled in his very bones, but he did not move.

“Oh, old ones: take my son, my only son, back to the home from whence our ancestors came,” he said, lifting the large bundle up to the sky. With a great heave, punctuated by a cry of great sorrow, he tossed the large bundle into the turbulent waters below, where it instantly disappeared from view.

The zebra stood there for several more minutes, not moving so much as an inch. His son, his only son, had perished. Travelers from a far-off place had stolen his life, had dishonored his family. They had dishonored him, made a fool of him: his power meant nothing to them.

He would see them suffer, as he was suffering. Turning around and walking back to the large shelter his peons had constructed for him, he walked inside and was greeted by saluting troops.

“At ease,” he said, looking around. Bright, young faces intermixed with the old, weary ones. He had been doing this a long time: many of them had been. But now, now was the time for his to strike back at these invaders.

“You know why you are here,” he said. “Our so-called leaders prostituted us to other countries: destroyed our cultures, our economies, our honor. Our blood has been spilt on our soil. My blood... on their hands.”

He looked them all in the eyes, his own burning with rage. He would not stand for this: if he had to hunt these beasts to the ends of the Earth, he would. “They are the invaders. We will hunt them down. For the murder of my son, for the murders of our sons... they will suffer the consequences.”

A great cheer rose from the zebras before him as they brandished their weapons in the air. When that convoy of ships came back from Maredagascar with those foreigners on board, they would have no idea what he would have planned for them.

Warlord Undi would have his vengeance.

Author's Notes:

Ah, Zakhaev: such a great source of threatening words. So... what do you think?