>In front of her sat two explosives, their fuses ignited long before that precarious point in time. 
>Twilight’s eyes flickered between the two of them as she cautiously measured their yield, lips curved awkwardly in worried concentration. 
>The multi-roomed tent around her rose a fair few degrees in temperature, her body an uncomfortable beacon of heat.
>She inwardly wondered which to defuse first. Logically, she knew that the one on the right would be nothing short of catastrophic if it were to detonate, but…
>Something about the sheer possibility of the leftmost bomb going off made her skin crawl. 
>She shifted in her seat uncomfortably as she considered their inner workings. Her eyes danced between them, both of their wiring and circuitry akin to an alien language in the face of her Equestrian optimism. 
>‘How do I do this?’ she wondered, beads of turmoil pooled on her raised brow. ‘How do I get out of this without any collateral damage?’
>The steady, unyielding ticking of the clock on the wall proved an ill backdrop for her frenetic thoughts, but she knew that she would have to make a decision eventually. 
>A deep breath, held unknowingly, exited her lungs. It tainted the open air with her unease.
>As she stood, defiant of any outcome but the most ideal, her hooves almost imperceptibly shook underneath her, as if they would no longer support such a fear-addled body. 
>In as even a tone as she could muster, she willed herself to speak. 
“She’s going to help run the tent.” 
>In the blink of an eye, each bomb’s fuse shortened considerably.
>Twilight winced as the rightmost explosive rose to her hooves, her eyes wild with displeasure.
>“I beg your pardon?” Chrysalis asked, distraught. “Not only do I have to be some lowly merchant in this miserable tradition of pointless festivities, I have to do it with… with /him?!/” 
>She pointed, aghast, at the bomb to Twilight’s left, whose frown deformed his entire face. 
>With crossed arms, he leaned forward, his elbows propped against his knees. 
>“No,” Anon said plainly. “Not a chance in hell, Twilight.” 
>Ouch. He /never/ called her that, not since she first met him.
>She started to wince, to shrink back into herself, but something newly within her rose up into her chest; a princess’s conviction. It had always been there, but after the acquisition of her wings, it had grown exponentially. 
“I’m sorry, but that’s how this has to happen. This is a perfect opportunity for the both of you to work past your differences, and for Chrysalis to take an important next step toward her reformation!” 
>Indignation warped their faces. Their fuses whipped about, racing to their terminus. 
>“Twilight, she vaporized a third of my house during her last attempt at an invasion,” Anon explained, a bulging vein in his forehead.
>She knew that, of course; she was the one being fired at, after all. 
>She apologized to Anon a million times over that day, but thankfully, he never blamed her for any of it. 
>“You’re lucky that’s all I had time to do,” Chrysalis growls. 
>Chrysalis, to her credit, had made gargantuan strides in her journey toward reformation since her capture. In the beginning, she refused to speak at all, and would lash out at anypony that dared come close to her cell. 
>The reminiscence of her progress is what kept Twilight confident as her focused stare traded blows with Anon’s scowl.
“That’s why you’re the perfect candidate for this,” she explains. “Making amends is one of the most important things a pony can learn to do, and it’s essential to making sure friendships stay afloat in tough times.” 
>Anon sighed as he held his head in his hands. 
>“I mean, yeah, that’s fine and dandy, but you’re missing a pretty important part of the equation. We aren’t-”
>“I will /never/ be friends with this unruly /ape!/” Chrysalis shouted as the magic suppression ring on her horn glowed under strain. “Not after his abhorrent actions toward the Hive.”
>Anon picked his head up slowly, the vein on his head far more pronounced. His cold, almost frightening gaze scanned her for a few moments before returning to Twilight, settling on an honest attempt at neutrality.
>“…Yeah. That.” 
>The memory of the incident, fresh in Twilight’s mind, contorted her face into a grimace as she cast her eyes elsewhere. 
>Because Anon’s house was a recent addition to the outer edge of Ponyville, Chrysalis’s drones missed it during their initial sweep and had to double back after most of the ponies had been captured.
>He didn’t exactly appreciate being woken up in the middle of his midday nap, halfway restrained with changeling goop. 
>She wasn’t there for it at that point, since she hadn’t broken out of captivity yet, but she did read the reports of what happened afterward.
>Gardening tools, scrap metal shavings, a welding mask, hairspray, a lighter… whatever must have been in reach for him. 
>Every unorthodox implement that somehow found its way into Anon’s hands culminated in just over two dozen injured changelings, four of which ended up in the hospital. 
>In the end, it took eight of them to finally restrain him enough so that he could be drained. 
>Twilight had asked him about it once during lunch, to which he dryly replied that his uncle ‘taught him some things he’d never forget.’ 
>She would always be close friends with Anon, but after that day, the light in which she viewed the mostly-gentle giant would never be quite the same again. 
>Now, though, that would work to her advantage. 
“I understand that the two of you have… /less than favorable/ history,” she says, “but think of what you may stand to gain. Sometimes, a rocky start may lead to a wonderful friendship. Look at Discord and Fluttershy!” 
>Chrysalis scoffed, slinking back down into her wooden chair. 
>“I don’t intend on becoming anything like that lap dog, Sparkle.” 
>Twilight can’t help but glower at her hard-headed insult. 
>Discord was like that, too, at first… but she kept that to herself for the time being. 
>“The fact that you think he’s a ‘lap dog’ says more about you than it does him,” Anon retorts, arms crossed as he leans back. 
>Chrysalis’s glare was an enchantment away from shooting daggers straight through his head. 
>“At least I can say something of him,” she says lowly, words dripping with venom. “I can’t think of a single notable thing about /you/.” 
>“Twenty six of your drones would disagree.” 
>Before another hastily-concocted provocation could pass between them, Twilight forced their chairs apart with magic, holding them tight to their seats as they sailed in opposite directions across the tent. 
>“Enough,” she declared, her wings flaring in authority. “Trading insults back and forth isn’t productive for anypony here.” 
>Doubt crossed her mind but briefly. Anon needed all hooves - hands - on deck to make sure he was able to put out plates of food at a decent pace, and Chrysalis had to play along to eventually walk free. 
>Both hesitant to accept the other, and both with an ultimate goal that required their cooperation. 
>The possibility of their interaction being naught more than transactionary lied at the forefront of her mind. 
>Had she made an oversight…?
>…Well, even if she did, the situation didn’t leave any room for corrections. 
>For better or worse, the two were stuck together. Twilight just hoped that her initial intuition would pay off. 
“Celestia sent a few senior members of the Royal Guard to make sure things go smoothly,” Twilight explained, giving neither of them time for a smart reply. “They’re waiting outside right now. I have to help Mayor Mare organize the main event, but I’ll swing by to try a veggie burger whenever we take a break for lunch.” 
>“You better,” Anon replied, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “You’ve been talking about trying them for weeks. ‘Sides, you owe me now.” 
>Guilt began to gnaw away at her. In the end, she /did/ spring this on him. 
“I know,” she replied, a smile beset against her fear of failure. 
>She glanced up at the clock - it was almost time to begin preparations. 
>Swiftly, she made her way over to Anon, who sat up a bit straighter as she approached. 
“If you need anything, just place this in the center of your palm and squeeze.” 
>A flourish of her pinkish aura lit the room as she manifested a small coin in front of her.
>Anon tentatively plucked it out of its uncanny stillness in the air and passed his fingers over the raised, metal imprint of Twilight’s trio of stars. 
>“Well, this is new,” he said. “What is it?” 
“It doesn’t have a name just yet,” Twilight explained, “But it’s something I’ve been working on for the past few weeks. If something happens and we’re separated, you can envelop the coin in your natural magical signature, and it’ll resonate with my cutie mark. It’s a bit similar to how the map works, but just distinct enough to where I can tell the difference. The girls all have their own, too.” 
>Anon frowned as he flipped the coin over with his fingers.
>“And palming the thing accounts for me not being able to actually use magic?” 
>She confirmed his curiosity with a curt nod. 
“Even if you have no way to use it, you still have a natural aura, just like everypony else.” 
>Anon’s eyebrows lifted slightly, lips pursed in acknowledgement. 
>“Fair enough,” he said, pocketing the new invention before a restrained look of horror flashed in his eyes. “Please tell me it doesn’t make your butt vibrate like that map does.” 
>Twilight’s laughter filled the tent. 
“No, I was able to circumvent that. I just wish there were a way to get around it whenever the map calls one of us.” 
>“If you’re both finished,” Chrysalis interjected from across the room, “I’d quite like to get started, thank you.” 
>What smithereens of Anon’s smile did exist were promptly erased as reality spoke aloud once more. 
>Twilight hoped to keep him in relatively high spirits as she did her best to remain chipper. 
“I wouldn’t be so hasty, Chrysalis. You might end up enjoying yourself after all - Anon is one heck of a chef!” 
>Chrysalis didn’t dignify her with a response, and opted instead to stare at some fixed point against the tent wall.
>“I mean, I only really know how to make a few things somewhat decently,” Anon replied bashfully. “But thanks, Twi. Means a lot, coming from you.” 
>When the nickname she had become so used to finally left his mouth, she beamed from ear to ear. 
>With one hoof raised, she met Anon in a tight hug that lasted a few moments before they both separated. 
“I expect both of you to be on your best behavior,” she said with authority as her gaze passed between the both of them. “No shenanigans, alright?”
>“Okay, mom,” Anon teased.
>Twilight stuck her tongue out at him before looking over at Chrysalis, who met her eyes with barely restrained irritation.
>“Of course,” she replies flatly.
>Twilight wasn’t quite satisfied with the terse nature of her reply, but it would have to do. 
“I’ll leave you two to get started, then. I hope the both of you have a wonderful Summer Sun Celebration!” 
>As she navigated her way out of the sizable tent, passing by Anon’s grills and other cooking utensils, she did her best to stow her uncertainty deep within her anxious bones. 

…

>Anon sighed, filling the dead air within the tent with his exasperation. 
>‘How’d it ever end up like this?’ he thought. 
>The whole thing, being one of the food vendors for the Summer Sun Celebration, was supposed to be an enjoyable experience. Make food, make people smile, get paid, finance replacing some of his things that were destroyed in the invasion - altogether, a pleasant time.
>And then his favorite purple nerd came along a few days before the festival, stating that she had some sort of “special friendship assignment” for him.
>She wouldn’t tell him what it was, either, which set off some alarm bells in his head.
>He trusted her, though, so he went along with whatever she had in mind. She’d never steered him wrong before; this wouldn’t be so bad, right?
>When she showed up outside of his vendor tent accompanied by the reason his house was in shambles, though, Anon’s faith in the situation died. 
>Even as he stood in the uncomfortable silence of his tent, watching the retinue of guards piling in through the entrance flap, it remained gone. 
>As they all took their positions in various points across the limited work space, he looked over at the former changeling queen, still stewing in her seat.
>Her imposing form was, at once, diminutive against the circumstances of her presence. 
>It was all kept in check by that ring on her horn, he supposed - the very thing that kept her from enforcing her will on the world, from shifting into another form and wreaking havoc. 
>If only the device could keep her ego in check as well. 
>Anon begrudgingly steeled himself for the day to come. 
“Have you ever cooked anything before?” Anon asked, picking up a checklist from the vendor table at the front of the tent. 
>Chrysalis, in near disbelief, sized Anon up. 
>“Changelings don’t require physical sustenance,” she deadpanned. “We feed off of emotions.” 
“I’m familiar. Doesn’t tell me whether you’ve ever been curious enough to try it, though.”
>A few moments of silence pass between them as Anon finishes reading through his list, glancing back at the rear area of the tent where the coolers were.
>“No,” Chrysalis said plainly. 
“You’re lucky I happened to bring the recipe card, then.”
>Anon fished it out of his pocket, uncrumpling it as best as he could before walking over and handing it to her, only for her to stare at it silently for a few moments as the suppression ring glowed a sickly green. 
>An exasperated sigh ejected itself from her nostrils as she made the realization that she would have to use her hoof to grab it, which she did in short order, borderline snatching it out of Anon’s hand to read it.
“Get familiar with the ingredients,” Anon ordered, flat and direct. “I’ll be doing most of the actual cooking. You’re the sous chef, helping out whenever I need it.” 
>As she looked up from the card, Anon bore witness to the fires of resentment, hiding just behind her slitted pupils. 
>Forcing a smile, she deigned to speak. 
>“Of course,” she said, saccharine sweet words dripping with feigned positivity. “I only hope that, through our partnership, I can learn more about friendship from one of Twilight’s trusted companions.” 
>Anon eyed Chrysalis coldly from the corner of his vision. 
“No, you don’t.” 
>Her smile dropped from her features, but before she could follow up with any retort, Anon continued. 
“You’re here because if you keep in line with this ‘reformation’ stuff long enough, you’ll go free. It’s nothing more or less than that.” 
>Her eyes narrow at him. 
>“If you assume that of me, then why agree to any of this?” 
“Because I trust Twilight,” he replied. “Even if I think she’s wrong.”
>Chrysalis chuckled, amused. 
>“How paradoxical. You trust her, but hold the opinion that I’m beyond redemption?” 
“I trust that she knows what she’s doing,” Anon replied, fully facing Chrysalis with a cool glare.
“But I’ve known people like you before. You don’t /want/ to change.” 
>Anon made for the rear of the tent to start unpacking the ingredients, but stopped just before he crossed the threshold.
“So let’s not pretend like we care about each other. I would rather just get this over with.” 
>Without waiting for her reply, he stepped into the back, and Chrysalis was left sitting with the plethora of unmoving guards. 
>An odd, warped frown took hold of her features, surprised by Anon’s jaded condemnation. 
>She hadn’t intended to hide her true intentions in the first place, but being called out on it so brazenly was a decidedly new experience, especially from an Equestrian. 
>Regaining her composure, she stood, content that she wouldn’t have to feign anything with this creature.
>“I couldn’t agree more.”

...

>The heat of the grill in tandem with the hot summer sun looked to bake Anon alive, even in the generous shade of the tent. 
>He picked up a towel lying on a nearby lawn chair as he checked the second of three grills, dabbing his forehead lightly before he opened the lid. 
>A light haze of smoke billowed out, filtering through numerous slits in the roof above; he inwardly thanked Mayor Mare for her generosity in terms of tent quality. 
>He grabbed a spatula and turned the patties over, adherent to the time constraint he had set to obtain the most thorough cooking job.
>With the batch on its latter half of the process, he set about manning the counter as a wayward family stopped by to see what all the fuss was about. 
>“What’s all this?” the stallion of the house asked, eyeing the cluster of finished burgers sitting out on the vendor table with a curious smile. 
>Anon put on the friendliest face he could muster as he gestured to the fruit of his labor.
“Veggie burgers! About as close as you can get to the delicacy from my home without any meat.”
>His wife’s eyebrows shot up, her attention now thoroughly affixed to them as well. 
>“They smell wonderful! What are they made with?” 
“It’s a black bean base, believe it or not. The recipe is a family secret, but it’s one hundred percent vegetarian.”
>Anon swept his gaze over the few remaining plates on the table.
>The burgers had actually sold somewhat well, which was a pleasant surprise. He wasn’t sure whether or not ponies would take to an imitation dish, simply based on cultural reasons. 
>The closer he got to the day of the festival, the more he genuinely expected to take a fair bit of it home as leftovers. 
>In reality, he had just barely been able to keep pace with how many ponies had meandered over to his humble counter. 
>It wasn’t a whole lot, given that he was the only one in the tent actively cooking, but seeing people genuinely enjoy his dishes helped bring some authenticity to his servicing smile. 
>Of course, it was mostly the bits that helped that out, but he would never openly admit that. 
>Thanks to that, though…
“If you wanna try one, you can,” Anon offered. “First one’s on the house.” 
>“Oh, no, we’d be more than happy to pay,” the stallion said. 
>Anon waved his objections off and scooted a plate toward the trio.
“I insist. Consider it a Summer Sun Celebration special.” 
>The mare’s face lit up with surprise as she looked back and forth between her husband and child. 
>“What do you think?” she asked, zeroing in on the beaming colt. “Do you wanna try some, Haze?” 
>He enthusiastically nodded his head, almost toppling himself over. The corners of Anon’s smile crept ever so closer to his ears as he slid one of the plates forward to be received by the stallion’s magic. 
“Enjoy, you three. Happy Summer Sun Celebration!” 
>“You as well!” the stallion and mare said in tandem, walking off with their kid to go join the crowd elsewhere. 
>Anon’s grin slowly slid off of his face, replaced by a creeping apathy as he watched them leave.
>He looked down at the vendor table; only four plates left, but the festival was about to reach its apex, so he’d have a bit of a break soon.
>The patties on the grill would be his leftovers, then, if it all went the same as it had been.
>With a sigh, he re-organized the finished plates horizontally across the front of the table before heading toward the back of the tent. 
>From within the ingredient storage area, Anon could hear his resident “helper” cursing to herself.
>As he proactively lamented the maelstrom he was about to walk in on, he wondered if he could request payment from Twilight for putting up with being what basically amounts to a babysitter. 
>He deftly parted the curtain to the right, bracing himself for the worst. 
>Chrysalis, for the most part, had been surprisingly amicable when it came to being delegated to her position readying ingredients. Though she had two left hooves when it came to actually doing it, the relative solitude was something she seemed to enjoy, since Anon only ever interacted with her when he needed more toppings or pre-frozen patties. 
>All the better for him.
>…Is what he would have thought, had he not walked in on a veritable mess of his remaining onions.
>On a perfectly sizable table that spanned the length of the back wall, there sat Chrysalis, hunched over a single hastily-peeled one.
>Spread across the table, apart from stacks of other toppings here and there, was an ungodly amount of poorly diced sections of the aforementioned vegetable. 
>On the dirt beneath her rested two or three outright failed attempts to even /begin/ to peel the things, one of them smashed entirely. 
>Anon did his best to quell his overwhelming frustration, the majority of which was released in a heaving sigh.
“…Guess nobody else is having one with onions.” 
>Chrysalis spun around, indignation dragging the center of her brow downward. 
>“Perhaps they would, if you incompetent despots would let me use my magic,” she spat. 
>Anon chuffed, amused at her bargain. 
“No sell. Earth ponies and pegasi get on just fine, and so will you.” 
>He checked his pocket watch as his assistant glared a hole through his head.
“Besides, the main event is about to start. We can take a break for now, there won’t be anyone coming to the tent until it’s over.” 
>“A bit odd to offer a reprieve to your nemesis, creature,” Chrysalis jabbed with a contorted grin.
>Anon frowned in contempt as he pocketed his timepiece once more.
“You’re not my ‘nemesis,’ you’re just something I need to deal with for another few hours. Do you want a break, or not?” 
>The onion in her hoof rolled off and thudded against the tabletop, rolling indiscriminately for a moment before it came to a halt next to the unsliced pickles. 
>“I suppose a reprieve from this dull task would be nice.”
>The former queen rose to her hooves with an air of reluctance, despite having sounded like she was quietly fighting for her life naught but five seconds earlier.
>Anon, inwardly smirking at her unwarranted pride, walked to the opposite end of the room and opened a second cooler, still full of drinks despite the later time of day. 
“You don’t eat, but I’m guessing you still need water?”
>“So he /does/ possess a brain,” Chrysalis chided. “Or what’s left of one.” 
>Anon’s eyebrow climbed high, a smirk held fast on his features. 
“Hold onto that wit, changeling,” he said, mimicking her disrespect for him. “That's all you have left, now.” 
>He dug around in the ice chest for a few moments before settling on two bottles of water for now, preemptively opening hers. Not out of kindness, mind you; he simply didn’t feel like being drenched when she inevitably crushed the thing with her unwieldy hooves. 
>“You mock the loss of my Hive, do you?” she asked, her malicious voice reaching out with curled fingers. “Count yourself lucky that I’m beholden to the whims of that ‘princess’ of yours.”
>Anon knew he could draw the exchange out, rib her until she finally lost control and was locked away or turned to stone, but he didn’t. 
>As much as he would’ve loved to have been shriven clean of the tyrant’s insufferable presence, he truly trusted that Twilight saw something in her that he didn’t. Some hidden sign, an omen of who she /could/ be, tucked away in that black heart of hers. 
>So he relented, as difficult as it was. 
“I wouldn’t mock your loss of family, Chrysalis. Just poking fun.”
>She said nothing as he handed the bottle over to her, which she took with mild difficulty. 
>From outside, cheers erupted from across the fairgrounds - the ceremony had started.
>Anon started making his way out into the vendor area, but looked back as he crossed the threshold.
“You can come sit out here, if you want.”
>Chrysalis, mid-swig, regarded him with a simple, subtle nod of her head, beads of water trailing down the sides of her maw from the sudden motion. 
>Not bothering to wait for her, he trod out to the vendor table again, where he took a seat in his plastic chair. 
>Across the field, what looked like the entire population of Ponyville was out in force, surrounding the stage that Twilight and Mayor Mare had no doubt meticulously planned. 
>In order to allow for a streamlined clean-up after the invasion, Celestia had chosen to postpone the ceremony until later in the day. It wouldn’t have quite the same effect as ushering in the morning, but everyone ate it up nonetheless. 
>From where his tent had been pitched, he had a clear view of the ceremony platform, laden with a myriad of intricate sun-themed decorations and gifts alike.
>There, at the apex of the elevated floor, stood Celestia, flanked by a retinue of her guard on each side. 
>The smile she cast out into the crowd was a declaration of unconditional gratitude and warm regards, and as she spread her wings to their full breadth, the crowd roared in praise. 
>For them, it was as if she was an embossment to their world; a divine figure, spreading her good works among the fortunate citizens whom she called her own.
>“Fools.”
>Anon, ripped from his introspection, cast his gaze rightward and found Chrysalis sitting in a chair much like his, eyeing the ceremony with vitriol. She set her water bottle on the table and paced over to where it would all be out of her sight.
>“If you all were any more blinded by worship, I might actually feel some modicum of pity for you.” 
>Anon shuffled in his seat as he watched the crowd undulate, their stamping hooves upon the ground felt even where he rested his feet. 
>He couldn’t blame them for regarding Celestia the way they did, given all she had done for the world. Hell, he was a fan of hers, too, after the way she treated him when he first arrived. 
>Some ponies took it way too far, though. Nobody who actually knew her beyond passing words dipped their hooves into that pseudo-religious idolatry, but to many, she was the very reason that the day existed at all.
>Mothers would tell their children stories of how their very civilization came to be at the siblings’ behest - stories that had been told thousands of times over, winding back through countless lifetimes. 
>Anon supposed that the only reason Celestianism hadn’t taken off was because she was still around to stop it from happening.
“Are they wrong to see comfort in her?” Anon quietly asked.
>Chrysalis exhaled, irritated. 
>“They see only what they have been told to see for generations.” 
“And what do /you/ see?” 
>Chrysalis meandered back to the right of Anon, her scathing glare fixed solely on Celestia as the latter delivered her speech.
>“An inept figurehead who denied my Hive the life they deserve.” 
>The guard nearest to her tensed as his expression broke for a split second, resentment radiating from beneath his armor and turning the air thick.
>Anon, having heard his armor shuffle, sought to steer the conversation elsewhere.
“Your hive is alright, though, as far as I can tell. The ones who changed, anyway. Is your criticism of her really borne of caution, or of jealousy?”
>“Your very inquiry is borne of /ignorance/,” she retorted. “How could a creature who has only known this world for a handful of years - as an Equestrian, no less - possibly understand what’s best for the changeling race?”
>Anon paused as Celestia began her ascent, a golden glow illuminating her as she crested toward the clouds. 
“I can’t.”
>“Hm,” she grunted. “As I thought.” 
>But even so, it wasn’t difficult to see just how much a changeling’s quality of life improved when they had finally decided to give love freely. 
>Higher still, she climbed; the clouds gave way, a wide berth in her wake so that all below could bear witness. 
>“And you?” Chrysalis asked. “What do /you/ see when you look at her?” 
>Anon continued tracking Celestia’s flight.
>Finally, in what looked to be the very heavens themselves, she slowed, circling the sun once, twice, three times. 
>Her silhouette danced across its visage, each minute movement a carefree waltz. 
>/She was having fun/.
>A sudden downturn drove her below the sun, but she swung it around until it put her directly into the path of the heavenly star. 
>Her speed increased, driving her forward.
>Higher. 
>/Higher/, until -
>She took her destined place in front of the light of day, and it refracted off of her, showering the mortals below with radiant benevolence. 
>The immense crowd erupts into unrestrained cheers, joy aplenty.
>Anon squinted, lest his eyes burn out of their sockets. 
“Just a mare, I think,” he finally answered. “Nothing more, nothing less.” 
>Chrysalis eyed him up and down, her anger having given way for bewilderment. 
>Anon met her wavering gaze with straight-faced conviction, assured in his disastrously straightforward analysis of the ruler’s character. 
>She tutted, breaking eye contact to stare at the ground as she traipsed back over toward the grills.
>“How presumptuous.”
>A silence took hold of the tent for some time as Celestia slowly descended from her otherworldly perch. As she rejoined the crowd below, Anon felt something tugging at him, though what, he wasn’t sure. 
>Before he could dive into introspection, though, a nasally, posh Canterlot accent forcefully ripped him into the present. 
>“Good sir?”
>Anon, a look of surprise on his face, set his eyes upon the stallion that had called out to him. 
>The sunglasses resting upon his snout were circular, with deep blue lenses that appeared almost completely opaque. 
>His mane was neatly kept in gray, flowing curls, lined along his neck and spilling ever so slightly to the sides.
>His light, cream-shaded coat was well-cared for, evident in the subtly wavy patterns and striations of fur on his chest. 
>The cutie mark resting on his backside, nearly covered up by his wings, was that of an unfurled scroll in a state of tabula rasa. 
>Anon hadn’t seen the stallion yet. Perhaps he was just a late arrival who forgot to eat beforehand?
>‘That’s odd, especially if he’s one of those upper-crust types,’ Anon thought. 
“How can I help you?” he asked, his customer service face at the ready.
>Not a moment after the sentence fell from his mouth, he realized that Chrysalis was still in the front area of the tent. If he saw her, and word got around, there goes the rest of his bits for the day - after all, who the hell would want to buy food that she had touched? 
>Luckily, from where the stallion was standing, it seemed as if he couldn’t see her.
>“My veggie burger was a bit undercooked,” the stallion continued. “And as a result, I’ve unfortunately come down with a hefty stomach ache. As such, I’d appreciate a refund.” 
>Anon inwardly heaved an unsteady breath, and cursed whatever force bade him suffer. 
>It was going to be one of /those/. 
>It seemed as though hustlers were a universal constant, no matter the reality. Thankfully, they’re painfully obvious in Equestria. 
“I’m sorry, sir,” Anon began as he pointed to the marker board resting on the table. “As per the sign, if you can’t procure proof of purchase via a receipt, then a refund isn’t possible.” 
>The stallion’s neutral expression sank into irritation. 
>“I accidentally threw it away, along with the plate. Do I /really/ need a piece of paper to be refunded for my continued pain? My word should be more than enough.”
“You do,” Anon reaffirmed. “The sign notating as such has been out here since I set up. Surely you saw it when you purchased the burger?”
>“Well…” the stallion stammered. “It wasn’t out when I was here!” 
“That’s plainly untrue, sir. You can ask the neighboring vendors, and they’ll all answer to the contrary.” 
>“So, what, then?” the stallion huffed, his frustration deepening. “You’d have me dig through trash to retrieve the blasted thing, is that it?” 
“I wasn’t suggesting that,” Anon replied, steadfast. “My only assertion is that, without the receipt, I can’t start the refund process.”
>Anon’s hopes of a peaceful resolution were dashed when the stallion all but tore the sunglasses off of his face, revealing two irrationally jaded eyes ripping him apart. 
>“Well, you have some /nerve/, sir!” he began, trying his best to be imposing as he strutted up to the counter. “How /dare/ you swindle me out of my hard-earned bits?” 
>His raised voice carried easily, and though the dispersing crowd in the distance was largely preoccupied, heads were starting to turn.
>Anon, in turn, reinforced his policy once more.
“Like I said, sir, if you don’t have a receipt, then I can’t help you. It’s a protective measure for the business.” 
>“‘Protective measure’ my /flank!/ You’re scamming innocent ponies out of their bits with meals that turn their stomachs sour!” 
“Sir,” Anon replied, tongue drenched in seething exasperation as he raised his own volume. 
“I have timed every single batch of my burgers to the letter, and pre-formed the patties so as to ensure that the black bean mix is evenly and completely cooked. Unless you can provide the receipt and burger as evidence to support your claims, then I cannot help you.”
>Anon leaned down toward the belligerent pegasus, slowing his speech to a crawling murmur. 
“You don’t wanna do this. Not over a burger that cost you three bits.” 
>The stallion falters for a moment before doubling down, stamping his hoof firmly into the growing and blowing at Anon through his nose. 
>“Of course I do, you freak!” he continues, the insult having done nothing to help Anon’s oncoming fit. “If I don’t have my bits back in the next minute, so help me, I swear I’ll have my legal-”
>“Be silent and leave my presence, you swollen-headed hatchling!” 
>Chrysalis’s booming shout caught Anon off guard as she dashed into view of the pegasus, whose anger was quickly replaced with bowel-voiding fear. 
>The guards of the tent readied their spears for her to make any sort of move against them, but it never came.
>“W-w-wha-” 
>“Did your Queen stutter?” she interrupted, baring her teeth in the same rage that had terrified the countryside. “Be /gone/! I tire of your insufferable tantrum.” 
>With a frenzied point of her hoof elsewhere, the stallion took off in a sprint, stumbling as his hooves trembled with every swing of his legs.
>Anon didn’t want to look at the crowd, but he forced himself to. 
>Panicked faces were scattered about, all pointed squarely in his direction. Some ran, some looked around for guards, some even froze in their tracks. 
>At once, Anon felt the icy burn of shame crawl across his cheeks as he shut his eyes, falling back into his chair. 
>There went the rest of his profits. 
>“Celestia’s upper peasantry could use a lesson in etiquette,” Chrysalis spat, her fury cooling as she followed the con artist’s every step with her freakishly acute vision. “I’ve no stomach for entitled brats.”
>Anon let his head hit the back of the plastic chair. He opened his eyes to the undulating roof of the tent as he chuckled grimly.
“Thanks.”
>“I didn’t do it for /you/, creature,” Chrysalis retorted coolly.
>He stuck his hand in his pocket, wrapping his fingers tightly around Twilight’s coin as he situated it firmly into his palm.
“…I bet you had fun working guys like that over during your invasions.”
>To Anon’s surprise, a genuine chuckle found itself bobbing in her throat. 
>“Oh, you have /no idea/.”

...

/Two days later…/

>On the half-ruined porch of his humble abode, Ponyville’s resident human, clad in his favorite bathrobe, sat nestled in his rocking chair, his lips set upon a freshly brewed cup of coffee. 
>It wasn’t quite to his taste, but he didn’t mind; after the renovators finished rebuilding his kitchen, the fact that he could make a cup of coffee at all was something he deeply appreciated. 
>Against all odds, he’d made enough to actually /make/ that leap, as opposed to simply settling for replacing odds and ends around the house. 
>No more takeout for Mister Anon, no sirree. 
>As the steam from the nectar billowed across his brow, he took great comfort in the relative solitude of his lounging. 
>Ponies gave him a comically wide berth as they traipsed past his house, going about their usual business whenever they’d felt like they had enough room to relax. 
>As much as it got on his nerves, the short term benefit of not having to greet anyone before he was finished with his morning routine was welcomed quite readily - a boon he capitalized on by leaning his head against the back of his rocker and letting his eyes fall closed. 
>A deep breath seated itself in his lungs as he felt himself loosen his usually taut stature. 
>All factors considered, nothing could ruin this moment, his singular facade of peace. Woe betide any who dared to-
>“Good morning, Anon!”
>…Woe betide /most/ who dared to disturb his tranquility.
>He picked his head back up, squinting his eyes in the vibrant sunlight.
>Twilight stood before him, a warm smile resting upon her face as she waved heartily at him with a free hoof. 
>Anon grinned back as believably as he could, given that he really did cherish his solitude. 
>Solitude, shmolitude, though - she was his friend, and he should be happy to see her.
“Mornin’, Twi,” he said, clearly his first spoken words of the day. “What brings you all the way to my neck of Ponyville?”
>Given that her castle was situated on the other side of town, the question /did/ warrant asking.
>“Oh, I just wanted to check on you, is all,” she replied, a bit more timidly than expected. 
“Making sure I’m not ‘cavorting’ with Chrysalis, huh?” he jested before taking another sip.
>She sighed, her features awash with sheepish regret.
>“I’m still so sorry about that, Anon. I didn’t think it would get so out of hand, and… well, you know how some of the ponies here can be, I guess.” 
>Anon stared headlong into his coffee for a moment, grin faltering ever so slightly. 
“I guess,” he parrots flatly, blinking once or twice before returning to proper form. 
>Twilight noticed this and grew dour, but didn’t have time to interject before he spoke up again.
“I like the quiet, though, so it hasn’t been all that bad. Just wish they didn’t think I was some kind of underling for her, or whatever they’re saying now.” 
>“I’ll explain everything to everypony at the town hall meeting later,” she reassured him. “Whatever they’re saying, I’m sure it’s all just a big misunderstanding.”
>Anon grunted in response, exhaustedly eyeing the noticeably nervous alicorn across from him.
>Her gaze seemed to be darting back and forth between innumerable points of interest, flitting back to him every few moments as the silence between them grew tangible. 
“You alright, Twi? You seem kinda tense for a Sunday morning.” 
>“Huh? Oh, no, no, no, I’m fine,” she said as she crossed one of her hooves in front of the other. “I just have a lot to do today, is all. Especially after the festival…”
>Anon’s eyebrows lifted in thought. 
“I didn’t even think about all the stuff you’d have to deal with, too. I’m guessing she put a lot on your plate?”
>“You’d be correct,” she confirmed with a grim chuckle. “It’s mostly P.R., but I’m not exactly well-versed in dealing with that, you know?” 
“Don’t I ever,” Anon said, an amused puff of air leaving his nose. “I’d be the least popular princess in history, I think.” 
>A restrained laugh, robbed of her usual candor, freed itself from her lungs. Though genuine, it was held back by something; of this, Anon felt confident.
>His suspicions were all but confirmed when, after a few moments of timid silence, she spoke once more.
>“Actually, now that I think about it, I /do/ need to talk to you about something,” Twilight said, each word dancing on eggshells. “Do you have a minute?” 
>Anon looked left and right, gesturing to his immediate surroundings with open arms.
“I happen to have a lot of minutes, actually. What’s up, is something wrong?” 
>“Not exactly, but I’m just trying to get ahead of it,” she said. “Would you mind if we talked inside?”
>Anon frowned as a wave of apprehension rose to his chest. 
“Yeah, sure,” he placated, rising from his seat.
>With stiff movements indicative of his recent awakening, he meandered over to his front door and held it open for her. 
>She wasted no time in trotting inside, and as he shut the door behind the both of them, she beheld his mostly-redone living room. 
>While most of the space looked much like it did before her battle with Chrysalis, remnants of the conflict lingered; tools laid about the room in various states of use, most likely left there by the contractors who were working on the restoration.
>Exposed insulation here, a patch of ground without flooring there…
>For the most part, though, everything looked like it was coming along nicely, apart from the hallway leading to his bedroom, which was still in disrepair. 
>She couldn’t see into his former sanctuary at the time since the door was closed, but if she wasn’t mistaken, it was still open to the elements. 
>Why Anon hadn’t arranged for it to be one of the first things repaired, she’d never know.
“Make yourself at home,” Anon called out as he moved to the kitchen, setting his cup down on the counter. “It’s still a bit drafty in some spots, but they said that would work itself out in a couple of days.”
>Rather than follow him into the kitchen, Twilight made her way over to his rather small dining table and pulled out one of the chairs, wasting no time in clambering onto the human-heighted furniture. 
>Her movements were stiff, borne of apprehension - were they any more strained, one might’ve heard pistons and machinery grinding away beneath her nerve-wracked flesh. 
“Thirsty?” Anon asked as he threw his refrigerator door wide, placing his coffee within. “I’d ask if you’re hungry, but I haven’t had time to make a grocery trip yet, so we’re both out of luck.”
>“I’m fine, no worries,” Twilight replied, syllables falling over each other in her unintentionally frenetic pace. 
>Anon eyed her with a turn of his head and a raised eyebrow, letting the hefty fridge door fall closed on its own. 
>They weren’t /that/ close, so he could never truly be sure, but he’d known her long enough to have an inkling of the severity of what was going on in her world. 
“Alright, let’s get to it,” Anon said, forgoing his tiptoeing. “What’s bugging you?” 
>The corners of Twilight’s mouth were beset by a grim smirk as Anon crossed the room, pulling out his own chair at the table. 
>“Your word choice is pretty ironic, considering the situation,” she said, a new gloom hanging overhead. 
>Anon caught on almost immediately.
“Chrysalis?” 
>She nodded.
>“Her outburst at the festival didn’t exactly do her any favors in terms of public opinion. Ponies have even been directly petitioning Princess Celestia to have her imprisoned indefinitely, as opposed to going through the reformation program I’ve been leading.” 
>A tumultuous uproar of both relief, and then guilt, swelled in the pit of Anon’s stomach.
>Relief that, hopefully, she would finally be out of everyone’s hair forever. 
>He /knew/ Chrysalis should have been locked away; after all of her transgressions against his people, /his home/, he was surprised she wasn’t turned to stone on the spot. That’s what she /deserved/.
>But the downtrodden remorse on his friend’s face gave him pause. 
>…
“How many of them signed on?” he asked, unwilling to wrestle with his thoughts for the moment.
>“More than enough to have gotten Celestia’s attention. And it’s not just ponies from Ponyville, either; there are a lot of signatures from Canterlot, too.” 
>Anon’s mind immediately went to the snooty scam artist that had waltzed up to his tent.
>Deep in his gut, he felt as if something terribly unfair had happened to his diminutive reputation in Canterlot, but he shrugged it aside for the moment. 
“What’s going to happen, then?” he asked, paying careful attention to the nuances of Twilight’s expression as his question sat with her. “Did Celestia say anything?” 
>“We have a meeting scheduled for later today to discuss everything that happened, and explore any possible alternative approaches. She fully supports our efforts, but if this situation reaches any sort of royal committee, I can’t see it ending favorably for Chrysalis…” 
“And since the petition is gaining traction so fast, you’re running out of time to fix her,” Anon finished for her. 
>Twilight nodded solemnly once more, but began to hold his gaze with growing determination. 
>“I know she can change, Anon,” she declared. “I’ve seen flashes of a softer side whenever she talks about her old hive. It’s fleeting, sure, but it’s /there/!” 
“Twilight, she hates what happened to them.”
>“Maybe, but she doesn’t hate /them/.”
>Her determination came to a head, and a confident smirk took its place on her features.
>“And from the way she was talking about you when she was being escorted back to her holding cell, I don’t think she hates you, either.” 
>Anon froze, his deeply confused stare reaching across the table.
“Huh…?” Anon muttered incredulously.
>“It’s true!” she continued, rearing her front legs onto the table. “She asked about you, Anon. She’s /never/ done that with anypony else I’ve brought on for help.”
“…What did she even ask about?” 
>“Not much, but it was more than enough,” Twilight replied. “What you are, why you’re in Ponyville, things like that.”
>Anon frowned a tad and leaned forward onto his elbows so as to be more comfortable.
“I feel like those are pretty ordinary things to ask, Twi,” he said, eager to dismiss it as nothing. 
>‘What’s she getting at?’ he thought, his frown deepening. ‘I mean, I /guess/ that’s pretty out there, considering it’s Chrysalis. I still don’t see how that would-’
>Utter clarity swallowed him whole. 
>He sunk back into his chair, beset by an overwhelming urge to deny her incoming request before it could even be verbalized. 
>With a fathoms-deep breath, though, he held his tongue. His gaze became steely as he locked eyes with Twilight, bracing himself for the inevitable question.
>“Ordinary for anypony else, sure,” Twilight continued, “but for her? I don’t mean to be rude, but right now, that’s akin to a Hearth’s Warming miracle.” 
“Right now, huh?” Anon asked. 
>She hums her confirmation, her smile threatening to overtake the rest of her face.
>“I’ve got a plan, Anon. It’s not foolproof, and it’s based on a lot of assumptions, but right now, it’s our best chance to turn things around for her.”
“Do tell.” 
>She appeared visibly confused for a fraction of a second, mildly put off by Anon’s seemingly vexed tone.
>Nevertheless, she carried on undeterred. 
>“Well, since the previous version of the curriculum wasn’t working, I thought about adding some revisions to it. Changing exercises, allocating more time outside of the castle walls, et cetera.”
>Anon nodded, crossing his arms as she continued.
>“After the festival, though, I had some time to wonder about why none of our ideas had been working. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that we didn’t just need to tweak the curriculum; we need to change things from the top down, and have fresh, new faces that she isn’t familiar with spearheading the project.”
>Anon’s eyebrows shot up, feigning ignorance.
“New faces?” he asked. “Who did you have in mind?”
>“I’m still running through the first few drafts for a cohesive team, but, um…”
>She sat back down and twiddled her hooves, anxiously averting her gaze; she understood full well the gravity of what she was about to implicitly ask.
>“Well, I got carried away, and they all s-sort of… relied on you being a part of it.”
>She flashed her best “please don’t be mad” smile at him, shrinking in her seat as she readied herself for his reaction. 
>She expected an outburst, maybe even a chewing out. Shoot, even just a stern “no” was something she had also planned for. 
>Instead, Anon’s features softened, his muscles loosening as the time passed. He scanned her from across the table, perhaps measuring some quality unknown to her, before sighing and clasping the bridge of his nose between his fingers. 
“You came out here just so you could ask me that, huh?”
>Twilight, aghast at his assertion, reeled from his words like flesh from a hot knife.
>“No!” she exclaimed. “I really did want to make sure you were alright. Anon, why would you think that?” 
>Guilt, this time in full force, flooded his face. 
>He exhaled, releasing his nose and letting his arms fall slack onto the table, unable to meet her gaze.
“Sorry. I don’t know, I just…”
>The words trailed off, sputtering into nothing. Anon’s leg began bouncing, a tic he’d all but gotten rid of. 
“Twi, you /know/ how I feel about her,” he said, careful to keep using her nickname. “The only reason I agreed to babysit her at the festival is because I couldn’t really say no.” 
>“I know, Anon,” Twilight said. “And I really do regret dropping all of that on you, but I think it might have been for the best. Even if it wasn’t much, I’ve never seen Chrysalis be that inquisitive before - there might be something to it.” 
>A long pause coats the room in unease before Anon deigns to speak again. 
“I don’t think so.”
>Twilight made to reply, but he beat her to the punch. 
“She’s just grasping at straws, looking for a way out. I mean, we’ve given her chances before, haven’t we? The only thing she’s used them for is to lash out and hurt us.” 
>Anon sank into his chair, his eyes having found some distant point within Twilight to focus on.
>It lasts for a few moments before he holds her gaze once more, uncertainty welling up in the curvature of his lips. 
“…I trust what you feel about her, Twi, but I don't think this is something I should be a part of. I’m sorry.” 
>The true depths of his resentment for the changeling bubbled just below the surface, desperate to spill from his mouth. In an effort to keep Twilight comfortable, however, he abstained. 
>Disappointment drug her eyebrows downward, but she wouldn’t relent.
>“Don’t undervalue yourself, Anon,” she explained with more gravitas in her tone. “I think our chances of success soar /exponentially/ with you involved. Whatever you did with her in that tent, Anon, it’s sticking with her.”
>He forbade himself from laughing at Twilight’s unintentional innuendo, settling instead for a light smirk that faded within seconds. 
“Still feel like we’re jumping to conclusions here.” 
>She shook her head, doggedly determined.
>“We aren’t, Anon. I /know/ it. If you want to come along with me later and see for yourself, then-”
“Twilight.”
>His sharp interruption swiftly cut through her cascading explanation, the heaviness of her full name pulling her back to attention. 
>To his credit, Anon’s neutral expression remained, wholly counterpoint to his stern tone. While it did help to reassure Twilight that she hadn’t crossed any lines, she still felt the pit in her stomach open up. 
“The answer is no,” he said calmly. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else.”
>What felt like minutes passed in deafening silence. Though well-contained, Twilight’s dejection was still partially visible, ears slightly splayed back because of his refusal.
>Anon’s guilt, those freezing fingers wrapped around his stubborn heart, compelled him to explain himself, his face contorting in discomfort as he did so.
“What you’re trying to do is noble, and I really do support it, but after what her drones did…”
>His face contorts further, this time in growing anger. 
>He’d never have them back; one of one, they were. 
“I don’t think she deserves-”
>“I’ll cover the repairs to your home.”
>Anon’s uncomfortable expression disappeared, replaced by confusion. 
>He looked up at her, only to be further confused by the disappearance of any sort of negativity she might have had; in its stead was that same determination from a minute or so ago.
“…What?”
>Twilight's smile broke out from under the fog of initial rejection.
>“If you help me with this, the repairs to your home will be done at the crown’s expense.”
>He stared at her in disbelief.
“…You’re /really/ prepared to make that offer?”
>“I told you that you were integral to our success, and I meant it,” she explained, nodding along.
"You... you know how much work is left, right? I mean, half the porch is still in shambles."
>She nodded, undeterred. He chuffed in dubiety, an unconscious smirk on his lips.
>Anon idly scratched his cheek, attempting to itch away the undeniable appeal of her proposition. 
>Unease tempered his nerve, but at what tradeoff? Without that funding, the repairs would easily take another whole year of saving to even /begin/.
>Another year of faulty insulation, of the elements creeping into the living room under his bedroom door, of a busted water heater; these and many more. 
>Would he really walk his stance back, though? Just like that?
>…
“You said you’re curating a team, right?” he asked, each word hanging precariously in the air. “I wouldn’t be doing this alone?” 
>“Correct. It’ll be a relatively small group of ponies to improve unit cohesiveness. You’ll be working directly with me, too.”
>Decades passed in Anon’s mind as it wracked itself with the task of deliberation. Eventually, perhaps against his better judgment, it bore fruit. 
“…Alright.”  
>Twilight’s eyebrows lightened a great deal as she regarded Anon with her trademark optimism.
>“Do we have a deal?” 
“We do,” he said. “I’m probably gonna pay for it later, but we do.” 
>A contented sigh left her as she bowed her head in relief, debating whether or not to set it on the table.
“You alright?” 
>“Oh, I'm fine,” she said flatly, “I’m just really glad you’re on board. I really needed you, you know?” 
>Despite Anon’s incoming predicament, Twilight’s sweet compliment brought forth a genuine smile. 
>It twisted the knife, too, the guilt for his adamancy growing with every word from her mouth.
>Eager to dispel the feeling, he shifted subjects.
“I’m guessing I’ll be coming with you later today, then?” 
>Twilight nodded her head.
>“Yep! I’m expected at 4 in the afternoon, so we should leave around noon or so to catch the train and have enough time to grab something to eat.”
“Sounds good, Twi. One condition, though…”
>Her features fall a bit.
>“Yes…?”
>Anon’s smile goes wide as he stands from the table.
“Wanna come get groceries with me? We can catch up properly while I shop around.” 
>Twilight beamed eagerly, standing from her own seat
>“I’d like that, Anon.”

...

>Apart from a few diminutive ripples, the water was still; mirror-like, even. 
>The golden glow of the early morning sun kissed the mountain lake’s tranquil surface, shimmers of light dancing about with reckless abandon. 
>Some of them were cast onto the underside of a humble wooden canoe, half-docked on the lake’s edge.
>The boat had seen better days, no doubt, but for its intended purpose of the day, its quality would suffice.
>Anon sat at the shore-end of the vessel, and as he unwound his second-hand anchoring rope from the damp log it was wrapped around, he wondered what he would catch, if anything at all.
>Free of its constraint, the canoe began to move, but only just so - the landbound half still struggled to do anything but wiggle around.
>He tossed the rope aboard and used his free hand to give the earth a decent nudge, gently launching the craft on a course for the lake’s center.
>It rocked ever so slightly, sending stronger ripples cascading out, fated to fade before they reached the shore.
>Rather than row out to his destination, Anon elected to drift for a time, his gaze wandering about.
>Though his thoughts had been plagued by worry for the last day and a half, he felt it all melting away the longer he floated along.
>How long had it been since he’d actually been out on the water like this? Not since arriving in Equestria, that much was certain.
>A nearby mourning dove sang out in agreement.
>Anon shut his eyes, content to soak in the sunlight, his skin expanding microscopically under the summer haze.
>Despite everything that had been going on, he began to feel a welling in the core of his stomach, one that seemed to alleviate the natural tension throughout his body. He began to feel…
>/Content/.
>At the opposite end of the canoe, though, a weight shifted, heaving a sigh into the otherwise serene air.
>“Does your lesson plan involve wasting precious time?” Chrysalis asked as her minute movements rocked the boat.
>Anon’s brow sank, but he refused to dignify her attitude with so much as a glance in her direction.
“No, but I could work that in,” he quipped back. 
>She guffawed, a singular bark of a laugh roaring past her fangs.
>“I fail to see how milling about a lake on a piece of driftwood is anything /but/ a waste of time.”
>Anon eyed the distance to the center, ignoring her complaint. From the floor of the boat, he fetched his fishing pole and laid it across his lap. 
>He wrested the hook from its holding loop with one hand, glancing up at her as he did so.
“What, you don’t think nature can be enriching?”
>“Under different circumstances, perhaps,” she said. “It’s rather difficult to glean anything of worth with you across from me, doing…”
>She eyed Anon’s rod up and down [spoiler]heh[/spoiler], confusion deepening as she combed over its form.
>“…What exactly is it that you’re doing, again?”
>Anon finished baiting his hook and stood the implement upright in his lap.
“Fishing.”
>She met Anon’s eyes, confusion mixed with untold amounts of frustration.
>A small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at his lips.
“…Do you not-”
>“I know what fishing is, /dolt/,” she interrupted. “Why do you need that crude-looking implement? Are your kind not skilled enough to catch them without it?”
“We are, but this is easier.”
>With a freshly baited hook, Anon cast his line far out into the waters.
“In a way, it’s kinda like how changelings feed. Why go through all that effort when a disguise - the bait - works better?”
>Chrysalis broke eye contact and scoffed, slumping over and lying down.
>“Your gross generalization barely scratches the surface of what our hunts entail.”
>He shrugged his shoulders, leaning back in his own seat.
“My point still stands.”
>“Your poor comparison says otherwise.”
>The relative neutrality of Anon’s countenance cracked.
>A deep irritation welled within the recesses of his gut, one that he only just barely staved off.
>Escalating would do nothing but give her exactly what she wanted. As much as he would’ve loved nothing more than a verbal back-and-forth with the queen of attitude, his commitment to the cause required him to hold off.
>So, with great difficulty, he softened his features and said nothing in return.
>As more of the line gradually sunk into the murky depths of the lake, an overbearing silence draped its fragile arms over the canoe. 
>Amid the tacit waters of the lake, though, Anon’s mind raced. 

—

Four hours ago…

>The echo of hooves and shoes upon marble filled Anon’s ears, drowning out the comparatively wispy voices of the meandering gentry.
>As empty as Canterlot Castle’s throne room was on Sundays, it still had its fair share of kowtowers galavanting around the place, all pinning their hopes on having even a second with one of the royal sisters.
>Kowtowers who, as Anon passed by, reduced their frivolous murmurs into hushed whispers.
>Their accompanying glares were honest attempts to level him; how dare he, who cavorted with the dreaded queen of Changelings, /dare/ step foot in their most sacred of dwellings?
>Their indignation would only last for as long as he didn’t return their stares with his own barely restrained scowl, however, at which point they would avert their piercing eyes elsewhere.
>The myriad of judgemental onlookers ground Anon’s gears into metal shavings.
>‘Vagrants,’ he thought.
>“I’m so sorry, Anon,” Twilight said, looking up at him. “I knew ponies were gossiping, but this is just…”
>Her words trailed off, unsure of what to say.
>Anon sighed loudly into the charged air and shook his head.
“S’alright,” he said, disenchanted. “Not like their opinion of me matters, anyhow.”
>Twilight’s sympathetic gaze left Anon’s features, combing her immediate surroundings for some abstract wisdom that might soothe him in some capacity.
>“…I’ll make it up to you,” she said, coming up short. “I promise.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it. How they’re acting isn’t your fault.”
>“In a way, it is.”
“Sure, but that was an honest mistake. I’m not gonna hold that against you.”
>“Still.”
>Anon paused, his eyebrow raised as he looked upon her demure expression.
“You know what? I just thought of something you can do to help me feel better.”
>Twilight looked back up at him, hopeful.
>“What’s that?”
“Be my friend. Oh, wait, you already are.”
>As much as she fought it, his request brought a goofy grin to her lips. She hooved his side, ever so slightly pushing him to the left.
>“Anon, I’m being serious.”
“So am I,” he replied in sincerity. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.”
>Twilight hummed her appreciation in reply. As they crossed to the rear of the throne room, however, she found that she simply couldn’t relent.
>“…Are you sure?” she asked. “It could be something small, if you wanted. Maybe lunch somewhere?”
>Anon held his hand up to stop her, shaking his head.
“Helping me with the house is enough, Twiggles.”
>“I know, but I wanted to have…”
>Her sentence cut itself short as she eyed Anon incredulously.
>“/Twiggles/?” she parroted, as if hearing it the first time wasn’t enough for it to properly register.
>Anon laughed aloud, further silencing his onlookers.
“Yeah, sorry, that one was bad.”
>Twilight joined him with her own reserved giggle.
>“No, no, it’s just - how did you even come up with that?”
>Anon shrugged as they approached a set of double-doors leading further into the castle, two guards - a pegasi and a unicorn - stoically blocking the way.
“Phonetics, I guess.”
>She shook her head. 
>“What am I going to do with you?”
“Apparently, put me in charge of supervillain rehab.”
>As the two closed in on the entryway, the guards stepped aside, repositioning to be parallel with the wall. The unicorn, with effortless grace that only decades of service brings, lit his horn with a brilliant blue aura and threw the doors wide.
>They both saluted her as the odd duo passed, the former’s armor plates clattering as they did so. Twilight nodded in respect as both herself and Anon passed through the threshold, and after a few steps inward, the doors shut behind them.
>The dull roar of the throne room was replaced with sterile silence, broken only by their rhythmic march forward into the labyrinthine inner halls. 
“Wish /I/ was a princess,” Anon said, volume lowered to match his surroundings.
>“Wanna swap places?” Twilight asked in jest. “I’m sure you’d be great with all the paperwork.”
“…Yeah, nah, you can have that.”
>“I thought so.”

…

>A gilded archway, flowered vines creeping all the way up its pillars and spilling into the hallway itself, shone the way out.
>Amateur artists the world around would be put to shame by its natural framing of the cherubic greenery outside, a painting come to life.
>As Twilight and Anon traipsed into the living work of art, the wind swelled, blowing their hair about this way and that. 
>The breeze played its usual song on the myriad trees scattered about, hitting every note with the skill of the world’s longest practiced musician. 
>Birdsong leapt at them from seemingly everywhere, a barely restrained greeting for the guests of the hour.
>Twilight carried on without fanfare, having essentially grown up in the castle, but Anon paused for a moment.
>He’d only been once or twice, and neither outing had led him to where he now stood.
>Though it was only a fraction of what the gardens held in store, he still drank it all in. 
>“Anon?” Twilight called out.
>Ripped from near-euphoria, he locked eyes with her.
>She idly tapped her hoof along the beginning of a cobblestone path, flanked on both sides by human hip-high shrubs, exotic flora affixed and bobbing up and down in a wave pattern the farther they went on.
>“I don’t mean to rush you, but we really shouldn’t be late for this meeting,” she continued, a bit bashful about having to remind you.
>Anon chortled as he left the veranda to join her side. 
“She’d put the /world/ on hold for you.”
>“I’d hope not!” she replies, almost offended. “Her duty to Equestria comes before anything, she’s said as much herself.”
>Anon didn’t reply immediately. Twilight’s naïveté, in spite of her vast intellect, was sometimes staggering.
“I believe you, Twi.”
>The end of the hedge-line path blossomed into a sizable courtyard, packed to the brim with otherworldly flower arrangements and displays. Strangely enough, none of them had any plaques with information about what was on display.
>Stone statues were dotted about in tasteful locations, usually near vine-covered arches or sitting areas.
>Bush sculptures and immaculate hedge trimming acted as structure for the large space, intentionally directing focus in a way that led passers by on a path of sorts.
>Deeper into the greenery they went, though, and before long, they happened upon a small clearing.
>At its center was a simple stone bench, unassuming in both size and craftsmanship.
>Across from it was an empty stone pedestal. Same as everything else, no plaque could be found anywhere on it. Anon thought it an odd thing to feature, but brushed the feeling aside to focus on the bench’s occupant.
>Coat white as freshly laid snow.
>Pastel mixtures of green, blue, and pink all waving orderly in a wind only she could feel.
>Sunlight glinting off of a golden peytral.
>Wings slightly spread, catching the breeze.
>Lavender eyes fixated on a passing cloud.
>A smile that had been there before he was born, and would be there long after he was gone.
>“Princess Celestia!” Twilight called out, unfolding her full wingspan in excitement. 
>Celestia’s gaze flicked in their direction, focusing first on Twilight, and then on Anon.
>Her already-present grin widened as she departed from her seat and turned to face the both of them fully.
>“It’s always a pleasure to see you well, Twilight,” she said as she ambled over, her movements almost ethereal in their grace.
>Twilight took off from Anon’s side, meeting her mentor halfway in a rather heartwarming embrace.
>Stood there awkwardly, he wasn’t quite sure whether he should bow or just keep waiting.
>After a few moments, though, Celestia lifted her head from Twilight’s withers, holding Anon’s eyes as the hug broke off.
>“It’s a pleasant surprise to see you as well, Anonymous! How have things been for you?”
>A genuine grin supplanted his awkward neutrality.
“A bit hectic,” Anon replied, letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “But I can sleep in my own house again, so it’s not all that bad.”
>“I heard about that,” she said, almost penitent. “I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible, having not assumed that Chrysalis would be able to gather another hive to launch an offensive.” 
>Anon shook his head, in mild disbelief that she of all people would apologize.
“Ah, you’ve got nothing to feel bad about. I mean, you didn’t blast my house with lasers, did you?”
>He redirected his focus to Twilight, an enigmatic smile on his lips. She did everything she could to avert his gaze, a bashful red hue on her cheeks.
>Celestia giggled at their playful banter, her voice joining the garden’s symphony of sounds.
>“That, I did not.”
>She beckoned the both of them forth with a wave of her hoof, another bench just to her left.
>“Make yourselves comfortable, you two.”
>They wasted no time following her suggestion, Twilight taking the spot closest to her mentor.
>“Did you have time to read the brief I wrote about yesterday?” she asked, removing her dual tote bags from her withers.
>“I did,” Celestia replied. “For being specialized in subterfuge, Chrysalis is quite skilled at causing a commotion, isn’t she?” 
>Fresh memories of the incident crawled to the forefront of Anon’s mind.
>One moment in particular repeated ceaselessly in his head - the moment he made eye contact with the panicking crowd. 
>Big and small, young and old, it didn’t matter; the instant the overgrown insect reared its ugly head in his shop, their terror had become indiscriminate, extending to him as well.
>It weighed heavily on his conscience, dragging the middle of his brow downward. 
>Inwardly, he wondered why he cared so much; for someone so disenchanted with outsider opinions, the resulting gossip stung quite cruelly.
>“Sure is,” he said dejectedly before returning to a more neutral tone. “That was probably my fault, though. I should’ve just kept her in the back.”
>“It goes a bit farther back than that,” Twilight interjected. “I should have overseen her myself yesterday, or at least stayed with you during the festival.”
>“I’m not so sure either approach would have helped,” Celestia said thoughtfully. “Her behavior during her earlier lessons indicates as much. It’s as if she revels in derailing our attempts to show her the error of her ways…”
>Celestia rested her eyes on the empty pedestal, a surprising lack of frustration in her words.
>Amid a few moments of tender quiet that took hold of the conversation, Twilight fetched a few scrolls from her tote.
“Well, that sort of thing was what she was all about, right?” Anon said, cutting through the silence.
>Celestia focused on him once more, her gaze willing him to extrapolate.
“I mean, I don’t know much about her, but it feels like she’s been doing this sort of thing her whole life. Could be that’s all she knows.”
>He held his hands up in mock surrender for a split second.
“You guys know her better than I do, though, so… you know. I don’t really know what I’m talking about.”
>“You actually know her about as well as we do,” Twilight said as she straightened out her parchment. “Maybe more, judging by your conversations with her during the festival.”
“We barely even talked to each other, though,” Anon replied, his face contorted in skepticism.
>“Believe it or not, she still shared more than she’s ever been willing to with us or her other tutors.”
>“Indeed,” Celestia agreed, her tone implacable. “The most others have managed to get from her are short replies and silent, begrudging compliance.”
>Twilight perked up as she finished checking over her scrolls, hopping off of the bench to hand them to her mentor.
>“That’s actually why I brought Anon along with me today, Princess,” she began, tail swishing with enthusiasm.
>“Given yesterday’s findings, I’m planning to put a new, specialized team together to strengthen our efforts toward Chrysalis’s reformation. I believe that if said team is composed of individuals with unique backgrounds and consequently unique mindsets, we might be able to replicate the effect that Anon had on her on a more consistent basis. The specifics of how the team would operate are detailed in those scrolls.”
>Celestia pored over the documents for a few moments before pointing a subdued smile in Twilight’s direction.
>“I agree wholeheartedly with your plan of action, Twilight,” she said before switching her gaze over to Anon. “I assume that you’re to play a role in said team?”
>Anon leaned forward and planted his elbows onto his knees.
“You know it,” he breathed, an imperceptible hint of dread on his tongue. 
>“The specific titles and roles everypony will hold will be ironed out once we have a few more members,” Twilight explained further. “Right now, though, I’m confident that Anon will be a team leader.”
>Anon’s eyes came to rest on his close friend, surprised at her commendation.
>Prior to then, they hadn’t spoken about his specific role in her team, only that he’d be a part of it. 
>In all honesty, he’d hoped to have something minimal; something like a substitute role, where he’d fill in for whoever was sick, or something along those lines.
>The less he had to deal with Chrysalis, the better. All he really wanted was his house fixed, and after that, he’d be done.
>There he was, though, a newly minted team lead. /Directly/ responsible for turning the former queen away from a life of villainy, which he was already hesitant about at best.
>He loathed the thought, and almost tried to worm his way out of it right then and there, but he paused just as he went to open his mouth.
>Twilight wasn’t just smiling at him; no, she was /beaming/, pearly whites and all.
>Her focus darted back and forth between both of his eyes, searching every crack and pore of his for an inevitable reaction beyond bewilderment.
>She was, quite plainly, proud of her decision to appoint him. 
>Him, who lacked any credentials, and had no experience with rehabilitation.
>Just someone who happened to be in the wrong place at the right time.
>…
>He mirrored her merriment, his own crooked grin pointed right back at her.
>‘That’s it,’ he thought. ‘She’s how you’ll get through this.’
>He wouldn’t be helping Chrysalis, no - he’d be helping Twilight.
>Though his task still appalled him, he felt some solace knowing he would be of some use to her.
>A pang of guilt wracked Anon’s chest - how could he need so much convincing, even after the deal they struck together?
>“In that case,” Celestia began, “I’ll have an identification card made for you so that you can access the castle as you please, Anon.”
“Don’t I need, like, a background check first or something?” he asked incredulously.
>Celestia chuckled, batting his concerns away with a hoof.
>“That won’t be necessary. As a close friend of Twilight’s, you’re welcome to peruse almost anywhere. There /are/ a few off-limits areas, but you’ll know them when you see them.” 
>He nodded, sight planted firmly on the grass as he went over his admittedly small list of questions.
“Do I need to move here, where she’s kept?”
>“Only temporarily,” Twilight replied. “Until we can get a few more ponies on board.”
>Anon inwardly groaned, but stopped short of frustration taking hold.
>As much as a temp move annoyed him to no end, he realized he’d be staying in the castle.
>In /Canterlot Castle/.
>Five star meals every day, amenities most people only dream of, a room with a view…
>Plus, it would give the construction crew more time to work on the repairs to his house.
“Sweet.”
>“Have you fielded any additional members yet?” Celestia asked her student. 
>“Not yet, but I’m compiling a list,” Twilight said, her tone having sobered a bit. “It’s only prospective right now, but I’ll work on it whenever I’m not busy with Chrysalis.”
>“It may be in your best interest to expedite its completion,” Celestia said grimly. “There are those within the noble houses who would sooner see her turned to stone than wait for rehabilitation.”
>Twilight nodded, more down-to-earth than before.
>“Understood, Princess.”
>She cleared her throat, glancing to and fro.
>“Do you mind if I excuse myself for a moment?” she asked, awkwardly giggling. “I had a /bit/ too much lemonade on the train ride here.”
>“Of course, Twilight. Take your time.”
>“Thank you!”
>Without much fanfare, she scooted from her seat and trotted off into the garden, strolling out of sight only a few moments later.
>The pressure of a timid silence fell upon Anon’s shoulders as soon as she rounded the corner. 
>The last thing he wanted to do was bore the princess with meaningless small talk, but apart from Twilight’s project, his life wasn’t exactly exciting.
>Mercifully, she seemed to pick up on his sheepish pause.
>“It brings me great joy to see her so passionate about Chrysalis’s reformation,” she mused, her nostalgic gaze locked onto where Twilight had disappeared. 
>Anon’s smile returned, a crooked thing, as he recalled how animated she was when she initially described her overarching plans to him.
“She’s certainly inspiring, that’s for sure,” he responded, propping his chin up on his hand, his elbow still leveraged against his knee.
>Celestia hummed her approval.
>“You’re still quite apprehensive about reforming Chrysalis, I assume?” she asked, her calm eyes now locked onto Anon.
>He attempted to hide his surprise, but in doing so, only ended up further emulating a deer in headlights. He sat up straighter and let his arms fall into his lap, cautiously holding his eyes to hers. 
“What do you mean?” he asked, unable to drum up any other reply.
>“There’s no need to be ashamed, Anon,” she reassured with a warm smile. “Your harsher feelings are perfectly reasonable, considering the circumstances.”
>All he could do was blink.
>He thought it quite odd - observing from afar, she seemed the ordinary mare, but the weight of her presence at that point in time felt otherwise.
>Perhaps it was simply a matter of nerves getting the better of him?
“How did you…?”
>“It was plain as day, even in the few words you’ve spoken about her thus far,” she said, searching his features as she spoke.
>His face began to heat up in embarrassment. Was he really that easy to read?
>Every word he might’ve offered up in some form of coherent response died in his throat, forgotten as soon as they were thought of. Luckily, after a few tense moments for Anon, Celestia’s gaze softened once more, making way for a throaty chuckle.
>“I’m only kidding, of course. Twilight included it in her report.”
>Anon’s heart descended from his throat, finally allowing him the privilege of swallowing.
>“Though, I am curious,” she continued. “Given that you hold Chrysalis in low regard, what compelled you to help her reform?”
“Well, the, uh…” Anon began, trying his hardest to relax. “The promise of my house being rebuilt in exchange definitely helped. I know that sounds shallow, but it really did work.”
>“Oh, I’ve no doubt about that,” she said, her expression having fallen into calm neutrality. “But is that /truly/ the only reason?”
>She turned in her seat to fully face him. 
>“I combed through the itemized records of the damage done to Ponyville; I’m aware of what you lost during her attempted invasion.”
>Anon’s mouth hangs only slightly open, attention held by Celestia’s weighty gaze, morphed by empathy.
>‘Did she look through my…?’ Anon thought, disbelief coiling around his heart.
>The sparks of indignation felt in his chest were quickly snuffed out, though, when he remembered that he willingly reported all of his damages in that itemized list - including his personal belongings. 
>Which included /everything/ in that box. 
>“I apologize, by the way,” she continued in a quiet, almost respectful tone. “I didn’t intend on intruding into your personal business; I was simply reading over the records to organize the reconstruction efforts, and it caught my eye.”
“It’s… alright,” he said, both words a struggle as he fixated on a random shrub off in the distance. “But, um… you wanted to know why I’m helping, right?”
>Celestia nodded her head, her eyes refusing to leave his person.
>A haggard sigh freed itself from the deepest pit of Anon’s lungs, mingling with the open air for the first time in years.
“It’s the same thing I said to Chrysalis. I don’t think she can do it, I don’t think she /wants/ to do it, but…”
>Anon met Celestia’s eyes out of the corner of his.
“I’m forcing myself to trust Twilight more than I do my doubts. She’s a better person than I’ve ever been or will be, you know? I want to trust her. I want to /believe/ that she’s right, that anyone can come back from those depths.”
>He shuffles his feet as his eyes meet the floor.
“Maybe it’s something more than that, but I don’t know. I’m not emotionally intelligent enough to pick myself apart.”
>Celestia studied him for a few moments, seemingly measuring the weight of his words, before the corners of her lips curled upward into a gentle grin.
>“While I don’t quite agree with that last point you made, I’m glad that you’ve decided to give our cause a chance,” Celestia beamed, her smile having spread ear to ear. “And I’m sure Twilight would be overjoyed to know of your confidence in her.”
>Anon nodded, an unsteady smirk on his lips.
“She’s really something else,” he said, almost wistful. “I just hope I can keep up with her. The whole ‘team lead’ thing has me freaked out; honestly, I don’t think I want to be in that spot.”
>“I didn’t either, funnily enough,” Celestia admitted roundly.
>He met her regard once more, two sets of eyes locked in a delicate dance. 
>Words formed on his tongue, but died there just the same.
>‘…Just a mare.’
>Before either of them could break the tender silence, a white-hot flash of magic manifested a scroll in front of Celestia. It fell out of its suspension not even an inch before Celestia grasped it in her tranquil aura, just as nonplussed as Anon was.
>“I wasn’t expecting any direct mail this afternoon,” she mused, an eyebrow hiked up in curiosity. “Pardon me for a moment, if you will.”
“Oh, yeah, no worries,” Anon replied, returning to a more relaxed posture in his seat. 
>Her eyes scanned the parchment with practiced focus that jumped from line to line at breakneck pace.
>She hummed aloud when she finished, a microcosm of disappointment ever so slightly tightening the muscles in her temple.
>“It seems as though Chrysalis might be stuck in her cell today,” she breathed as she rolled up the parchment. “Her tutor has fallen ill, the poor mare.”
“Shoot. Is she okay?”
>“Thankfully, she only has a fever,” she replied. “Nothing that a few days of rest and relaxation can’t fix. Though, in the meantime, that /does/ present us with the challenge of what to do with our student.”
>Anon’s chest tightened like a vice. 
>Although Celestia didn’t explicitly voice her solution, he knew /exactly/ what she was implying.
>There was no time to ruminate on it, either, much to his dismay; the longer he waited to offer help, the more disingenuous it would appear.
>And he /was/ there to help, wasn’t he?
“Do you need me to take over?” he asked, swallowing his discontent as best he could.
>Whether or not her surprise was feigned was anyone’s guess - she’d been at that game for far longer than Anon had been.
>“You wouldn’t mind filling in on such short notice?”
“I mean, I already got all my groceries earlier, so sure. I don’t have a lesson plan yet, though, so I don’t really…”
>He tapered off as his mind scoured memories at a million miles a minute.
>He’d only been up here one or two times prior, but if he remembered correctly…
“Isn’t there a lake on the other side of the castle?”
>Celestia said nothing, only flashing a colorful grin his way. 

—

>The line pulled taut, jolting Anon from his rumination.
>He pinched the reel between his index finger and thumb before it spun away from him, wrapping the rest of his hand around it to ascertain a better grip. 
>The canoe rocked slightly as he aligned himself in the direction of the tugging, breaking Chrysalis from her own meditations.
>“Took you long enough,” she jabbed, casting a patronizing sneer Anon’s way. “Your efficacy as a predator leaves much to be desired.”
>Her smart remark bore no effect on his focus. The frenzied clicks of the reel being spun backward were all that registered, all that mattered in the moment.
>Whatever was on the hook, it wasn’t too big, judging from how easily he could maneuver the rod. 
>In another life, he might’ve cared about the size of his catches, but there, on that mountain, he was content in settling for anything at all.
>Before long, his quarry broke the surface, shattering the glass-like surface of the lake in a flourish of splashes and ripples.
>He left the line at about half the length of the rod as he pulled it in, catching the fish in his firm grip as he looked it over.
>The sizable thing was roughly six inches in length, maybe a bit more. Its amber scales caught the sunlight amicably, and if he angled it just right, it almost looked as if it were glowing itself.
>Its mouth pulsed rhythmically as he held the Equestrian Sunfish in his hand, smoothing its yellow dorsal spines over with his thumb.
“Not bad for the first of the day,” he mused aloud.
>“You consider that diminutive thing to be satisfactory?” Chrysalis asked, barely stopping herself from cackling.
>Anon vocalized his irritation under the guise of clearing his throat.
“Moreso the fact that I’m out here doing this at all.”
>She rolled her eyes, looking out to shore.
>“Is that supposed to be my lesson for today? How trite.”
>Anon, inwardly passing his anger on to the hapless little fish, tossed it back out into the lake once he freed the hook from its mouth.
“Nah.” 
>She shot him a scathing glare that threatened to bore a hole into his head.
>“What, then? Don’t tell me this nonsensical excursion was intended to teach me about /patience/.”
>Anon paused for a moment as he laid the rod down beside him. 
>He could have acted like there was something that he was overtly trying to impart upon her, sure, but he saw little point in maintaining that illusion for the time being - and if it served to intrigue her further, then all the better for Twilight’s cause.
“There’s no lesson for today,” he deadpanned. “Your other tutor called out sick, and I was on standby.”
>“So this /is/ a waste of my time,” she exclaimed, scaring off a few ducks who had happened to swim by.
“Oh, come off it. You’re telling me you’d have rather sat alone in your windowless cell than be out here?”
>“/Yes/!”
>The guards lining the shore from where they had launched all turned to face the noise, not a few of them shaken by her anger.
>Anon, meanwhile, dropped his facial facade.
>A deep scowl overtook his previous impartiality, glowering at his unruly passenger.
>“If you’ve nothing to ‘teach’ me,” she nagged, “then bring us back ashore at once. I refuse to suffer any more of this-”
“You don’t get what’s going on, do you?”
>Chrysalis’s eyes became daggers, her belligerence deepening.
>“Watch your t-”
“No, really,” Anon interrupted again. “Have you ever even considered why Twilight and Celestia are going through all of this effort to help you?”
>“What does it matter?” she asked, volume once again rising. “That they’d be so foolish with their trust speaks volumes on its own.”
>And there it was. Her true intentions, revealed so carelessly in the throes of anger.
>Anon could feel a vein threatening to burst from beneath his flush skin.
“You’re going to be turned to stone, Chrysalis.”
>Those seven words leveled her outrage almost totally.
>“…You lie.”
>Anon guffawed in disbelief.
“What, did you think the nobility wasn’t going to try to sink their teeth into you eventually?”
>Chrysalis remained stunned in silence, eyes darting here and there in an attempt to parse the disconcerting revelation. Anon, finally pushed to exasperation, wasn’t intent on waiting for her to gather her thoughts.
“The upper crust is almost entirely in agreement that they want you indefinitely turned to stone, and before long, they’re gonna have enough backing to force Celestia’s hand. The only reason you aren’t essentially braindead on a pedestal in the royal gardens right now is /us/.”
>Another pregnant pause held the two of them in its choking grasp. Vexation had been all but drained from Chrysalis, and in its place was an uncharacteristic meekness that held her stock-still. 
>“My hive…” she muttered. “What will become of them, if I’m sentenced?”
“The new one?” Anon asked. “Either way this plays out, they’ll be welcomed into your old hive, if they’re willing to readjust as functioning members of society. Twilight is trying to offer /you/ the same courtesy.”
>Chrysalis continued staring headlong into the bottom of the canoe, periodically remembering to blink or swallow. Her inner conflict waged war just below the surface, contorting her facial features and clamming up her chitin; as much as she claimed to loathe her old hive, they were her only chance at salvation.
>“Why wasn't I informed of all of this until now?”
“Because it needs to be genuine.”
>She regained eye contact with him, a smidge more focused than she was a moment ago.
>“…So why did /you/ tell me?”
>Anon pressed his lips together tightly. 
>Uneasy questions beget uneasy answers - or rather, no answers at all.
“…I don’t know. Just be thankful I’m indebted to Twilight.”
>He swept up both oars in his hands and angled them out before lowering them into the water. They treaded the surface for a moment before he plunged them underneath and began to row steadily back to shore, breath hitching with each stroke as he put in a solid effort to gain a relaxed speed.
>“What’s the meaning of this?” Chrysalis asked flatly, the sudden movement having spurred her to begin collecting herself. “Where are we going?”
“Back to your cell,” Anon replied tersely in between strokes. “Isn’t that what you asked for?”
>She could only blink in response, several seconds passing before she found her voice again.
>“…I suppose it is.”