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Cadance is walking down the aisle and she still doesn’t know what her spouse-to-be looks like. She’s keeping her head down, angling her gaze to give off a prim, demure air. Curious as she is about the face of her husband, she manages to maintain the traditional posture that was drilled into her head as a filly. Her bridal training was taken seriously, despite the many hundreds of years it had been since Celestia was last forced to hand over a sacrificial princess. There was always a chance, Celestia wanted to be prepared. With her eyes on the floor all Cadance can see of her groom is that she wears a stark-black suit, pointed heels, and a trailing cloak that shimmers like dragonfly wings.
There are only a few things about her groom that she knows for certain. Cadance has been told the name of her betrothed- Chrysalis. A name that calls to mind bugs and change and nature. Cadance knows that, long enough ago that time almost forgot her, this woman was sealed away in stone by Celestia, Luna, and every last one of their court mages. It was supposed to last forever- siphoning just a bit of magic from the royal sisters to maintain potency. But Luna has been banished for more than a hundred years now and the seal wore down over the decades. As for the crimes she was being punished for, Celestia hasn’t had the chance to sit Cadance down and explain it properly. From the old dusty records she was handed to read up on her soon to be husband, Chrysalis, her crime is something akin to vampirism. That sounds a bit too fantastical and Cadance suspects that it’s just the simplified story the citizens were told. If it took both royal sisters and a full court of mages to seal her away, then Chrysalis must be a powerful magician.
Soon, surely, Cadance will be enlightened. After her marriage is final, after they’ve consummated this arrangement, Cadance will finally have the chance to truly learn about her betrothed. Then she’ll be able to woo her, heal her, and they’ll both come to take comfort in this union. Cadance is certain of this.
She steps on to the altar and takes her place across from Chrysalis. Her hands are concealed by gloves that are both as dark and shiny as spilled ink. Cadance offers her groom her hand and Chrysalis takes it, kissing her knuckles. She does not dip low enough to do so that Cadance can see her face. She does not linger on Cadance’s hand long enough to give her a chance to get a feel for her lips. The gloves are cold.
Cadance spends much of the ceremony trying to form an image of her groom in her mind. What else is there for her to do to occupy the time? Her role as a bride is to be an icon. A bittersweet beacon of hope standing still as a statue, strong in the face of a husband that elected to claim her rather than woo her. And, in her case specifically, a bride entirely unfamiliar with her groom. Perhaps that is better. She was not around for Chrysalis’ crimes, Cadance has known none of her victims. Has not seen the worst of her. She is luckier than her predecessors, in that sense. She is not scared of her husband the way they must have been.
When the time comes for her to finally meet the eyes of her betrothed, Cadance knows instinctively that she is viewing a mask. Chrysalis is wearing a face that is not her own. She, mostly, looks the part of a typical Equestrian citizen. She’s sporting a candy-pink coat and a mane the color of sunflower petals - both of which look ridiculous contrasting against her sleek black suit and sickly green eyes. Cadance kisses the false face of her groom to finalize their union. She is almost certain that she feels fangs against her mouth.
Cadance’s marriage is an honor as well as a burden. It is an honor, she constantly reminds herself- has been reminding herself since her hoof was formally requested. But before the wedding she could at least imagine a brooding yet darkly beautiful Queen showering her with twisted affection. A monster that Cadance could reform with her love. Her indulgent daydreams did little to prepare her for the isolation she is facing.
It is several months into the arrangement and Cadance has still yet to see the true face of her would-be lover. Chrysalis’s servants have informed her, quite coldly, that the face the Queen wears is her own. Cadance cannot bring herself to believe that. In fact, she’s starting to believe that the servants are wearing a similar glamour to her husband.
She wishes she was sent here with the dusty tomes she’d been given to study before her wedding. Perhaps if she had more time with them she could figure out how to get through to her closed off husband. Maybe there was a paragraph she glossed over that would give her a better understanding of her situation.
Chrysalis takes her meals alone. She spends much of her time in a wing of her estate that Cadance is entirely barred from entering. They sleep in separate quarters. The servants have been trained to speak little to none about their master despite Cadance's many attempts to coax any tidbit of truthful information out past their tight lips. She knows nothing, she can do nothing, her life is a fog.
Cadance is a tower princess, locked away to spite Celestia. An eye for an eye, in some twisted sense. But at least, Cadance must imagine, Chrysalis was not awake in her stone solitude. Cadance, on the other hoof, is being forced to feel every passing second of her isolation. Her husband offers no mercy. She feels she will go mad if this continues.
True, Cadance has been allowed to write to her friends from the life she once lived. But all of her correspondences from other ponies are delivered to her in her husband's swirling script- words stilted and lacking. She's certain that her own letters are altered similarly before being sent out. Still, she can’t stop picking up her quill. She needs to occupy her time and cling to what little normalcy she’s been allowed.
Cadance looks down at the letter on the desk in front of her, half-finished. Chrysalis reads all of her letters before they can be sent out- Cadance rolls the thought around in her head. Day after day Chrysalis has refused to give Cadance a moment’s attention, a word of conversation, a night of companionship. But she makes time to read these letters, to make her changes and re-write them by hoof. Cadance picks up her quill and starts a new paragraph.
“I wish to see my husband’s face. I wish to speak with her. I want to make her smile because I am hers and she is mine. I know that she is reading this.”
Once the ink has dried she folds her letter, tucks it into an envelope, and applies a wax seal that she knows will be cracked open long before it reaches the friend she was writing to.
It has taken several less-than-subtle letters to finally, finally get Chrysalis’ attention, but Cadance now has it. The letter she holds in her hooves is from Chrysalis properly, not just an alteration. It is a reprimand. A warning to behave. A promise that Cadance is better off being left alone than offering herself up to Chrysalis like this. A recommendation not to tempt fate.
But anything would be better than this loneliness that has soaked deep down into her marrow. She aches for love, attention, and affection. Yearns enough that this cruel and curt correspondence is making Cadance’s heart flutter. Her beloved monster thought of her as a quill glided across parchment. Of course, Cadance must respond in kind.
She pens a letter that, this time, is addressed to her husband directly. No beating around the bush, no implanting her message in between the proper paragraphs of her letters to the outside. Once the ink has dried she gives the parchment a spritz of perfume and presses a kiss to it, then slides it beneath her door for the servants to deliver.
Cadance processes that she should be nervous, but she finds herself utterly calm. No giddy anticipation, no fretting over the threats she has been issued. When she lays her head down to sleep she does so without an ounce of worry.
Cadance is woken up in the middle of the night by a weight pressing down on her mattress. It is oppressively dark in her room. The thick curtains are drawn, the fireplace houses nothing but fleeting embers. The only light comes from a single flickering candle left on a table by the door and a dim glow from the sickly green eyes of the woman currently pinning her to her own mattress.
There is an effect that this is supposed to have on Cadance. A reminder of the warnings she’s been given. A promise that Chrysalis is a monster, a creature that goes bump in the night. A confirmation that Chrysalis is the one in charge here and that Cadance should stop filling her head with these strange and romantic notions that her husband has no time for.
Cadance turns onto her back to stare directly up her husband’s eyes. She smiles. There may be consequences, but this is exactly what she wanted. Cadance reaches up her hands and cups Chrysalis’ face- if she is not allowed to see then she will simply feel instead. She runs her thumbs over the smooth, cold, hard carapace of her absent lover. Traces segmenting lines near her mouth. Cadance expected this, or at least imagined it.
“You should be afraid.”
“I should be,” Cadance agrees as her thumbs find the sharp serrated edge of Chrysalis’ mandibles.
“Then why aren’t you?”
Cadance shifts so that her thigh brushes against Chrysalis’ hip. Does she have a sane answer to that question? One that doesn’t involve her daydreams and fantasies and horrible, gnawing emptiness? Yes, actually. It’s been sitting in the back of her mind, but Cadance doesn’t believe that her husband intends to do her any physical harm.
“You haven’t hurt me yet,” Cadance explains, “You took me away but you haven’t killed me, as much as you must know that doing so would spite Celestia.”
Chrysalis laughs and Cadance savors the sound. “What a naive way to think. Have you not considered that my safety is connected to yours? If I rid myself of you then Celestia would have an excuse to contain me once more.”
“All the more reason for you to be gentle with me, then.”
Chrysalis snarls, Cadance can feel the expression change against her fingers. “Do not test me, pony. I cannot end you, but I can hurt you.”
“Then do so. I’ll accept the punishment as long as it is done by your hoof.”
That assertion is enough to give Chrysalis pause. She slinks backwards off the bed. Cadance keeps her hands outstretched as her husband backs away, wanting desperately to touch her longer. “You’re ignorant of who you’re offering yourself to, princess.”
“Then tell me. Show me. Please.” Cadance stands and takes a few determined steps towards her husband.
“Fine,” Chrysalis spits. She walks to the door, picks up the candle, then marches back over to Cadance.
Cadance cannot wipe the smile from her lips as she finally sees the face of her husband. Chrysalis is a beautiful pony-shaped bug. Her carapace is a slightly green-tinted black that shimmers as the candlelight dances across her. The horn that adorns her head is crooked and overly sharp. Her mane, if one could call it that, is translucent and blue. Her expression is defiant, but then falters into confusion as Cadance reaches a hand forward and runs a finger along one of Chrysalis’ mandibles once more. She’s finally seeing her strange but beautiful husband- she couldn’t be happier.
“Thank you,” Cadance whispers.
“You’re a very odd pony,” Chrysalis remarks. “Are you satisfied now that you’ve unmasked me?”
“Oh, not at all. I won’t be satisfied until you love me.”
“Changelings cannot love,” Chrysalis insists with a cold laugh. “Celestia really did nothing to prepare you, did she?”
“I was trained-”
“You were trained to be a bride, yes. But you weren’t taught about me or my kind, clearly. Love is nothing more than food to me.”
Eating love? That’s what those tomes were trying to describe with their vampire comparisons, then. It’s a bit difficult for Cadance to wrap her head around, admittedly. But if it’s love her husband needs to survive, then she will find a way to provide it.
“Can you show me?”
Chrysalis scoffs. “You’re volunteering, then? Alright, princess. Think of someone you love.” Cadance does as she is told, letting her mind settle on a pony she once foal-sat. “There, I sense it.” Chrysalis leans in, mouth teasingly close to Cadance’s throat. She breathes in deep and something leaves Cadance.
The sensation is intoxicating. Cadance feels herself getting weaker, her knees struggling to keep her upright, but she leans into Chrysalis wanting more. “It’s pleasant, isn’t it? But that’s only a single mouthful.” Chrysalis leads Cadance to sit at the side of her bed. “I can take more. I can leave you ill. Bedridden. Other ponies… Well, I had no reason not to drain them dry.”
“You’re not still…?”
“I am not,” Chrysalis confirms. “But that is part of my arrangement with Celestia, with you. Don’t delude yourself into thinking I’m trying to ‘improve’ myself.”
“It took a full court to subdue you before, why are you being so cautious?”
“My long slumber weakened me. Not enough that a fledgling princess like you could be a threat to me, mind you.” Chrysalis turns to the door. “That’s enough for now. I’ve shown you my face, I’ve answered several of the questions you insisted on sneaking into your letters. That should be enough for you tonight.”
“Wait, one more question, please.”
“Speak quickly.”
“That was you taking love, right? Can it not be given to you?”
Chrysalis shakes her head. She doesn’t look at Cadance as she answers. “It cannot, it has never been, and it never will. I know your training primed you to try to redeem your spouse, but you cannot change what I am. Go to sleep and put these notions out of your mind.” She takes the candle with her as she leaves, abandoning Cadance in the pitch-dark of her room.
Cadance holds her own face, meditating on the heat of her cheeks. Chrysalis can insist all she likes that there is no chance of love between them, that there is no point in trying, but that will not deter Cadance. Not now, when she’s finally gotten her husband’s attention. When her skin still tingles from the bite that Chrysalis took. Her heart beats fast for Chrysalis and she will make that feeling mutual.