Celestia closed her book as she heard a knock on the door. She knew who was coming.

“Come in―” she barely got out before the door burst open, unsettling the copious amounts of dust that had built up over the years. She turned her head to see Queen Chrysalis, chest expanding and deflating like bellows.

Celestia could very nearly picture a hint of fire coming out of the Changeling Queen’s nostrils.

Chrysalis took heavy yet measured steps towards Celestia, placing her face within an inch of the Princess’s.

“What.” Chrysalis clenched her jaw. “Happened.”

“Well,” Celestia replied as she waved a hoof out of her new window, displaying the clearly non-euclidean formations that composed the new landscape, “someone didn’t adhere to the Geometry of Fate.”

Chrysalis growled and pressed a hoof to Celestia’s chest. “Are you [i]implying [/i]that I went rogue after having to do that [i]forsaken wedding hundreds of times!?[/i]” she looked away and gagged. “I never want to look at another piece of cake as long as I live.”

“Nor do I.” Celestia sneered. “Even though success is no longer my ally.” She looked out upon the wasteland, then back at Chrysalis. “I played my part. Even―” Celestia took a deep breath “―explained to my sister what was going on. She didn’t believe me, but she trusted me.”

“I did my bit,” Chrysalis said as she massaged her throat and paced about. “Went after those troublemakers in Ponyville, first.” She snapped her head to face Celestia. “I’m assuming you were captured?”

“Hmm.” Celestia stood up and placed the book back on the shelf. “I don’t [i]recall [/i]being captured.”

Chrysalis sat down on her haunches and rested her chin on a hoof. “Huh. I’d never guess that they’d be able to defy the grooves of history.” A chortle escaped her throat. “They really [i]are [/i]getting powerful if they can fight against fifth-dimensional drift.”

“I’d expect no less of them,” Celestia said as she reorganized her bookshelf. “They’re exceptional ponies.”

“Not quite exceptional enough if they didn’t survive the temporal short-circuit.”

Chrysalis grunted.

“You should probably drug their tea this time.”

Celestia paused. “… What?”

“Or coffee, or cider or whatever―”

“I think you suggested that I cause harm to ponies who are my subjects,” Celestia said without turning around, “as well as my friends.”

Chrysalis stood up and faced her counterpart. “Well, suck it up,” she said as a snarl formed on her face, “it’s not like you’re sacrificing your entire [i]species [/i]to ensure Destiny’s survival.”

“Well, Chrysalis.” Celestia walked over and looked Chrysalis in the eye. “Some of us still have morals.”

“Morals?” Chrysalis chuckled mirthlessly. “There [i]are [/i]no morals if you want [i]your little ponies [/i]to thrive.” She rubbed her face. “I’m only doing this because it is [i]really annoying [/i]to end up back here every time someone screws up,” Chrysalis said as she dropped her hoof to the ground with a resolute [i]stomp[/i]. “My failure to preserve my race goes against [i]my [/i]morals, did you think of that?”

Celestia pursed her lips. “Well, what if I explain it to―”

“Do you [i]honestly [/i]think they’ll accept that explanation, being who they are?” Chrysalis blew a strand of hair out of her face.

Celestia looked down, then back at Chrysalis, then back down―then walked to the bookshelf.

“Fine, you win. I’ll drug them,” Celestia said as she pulled out a glittering book, “but let it be known I’m maintaining history’s flow under [i]extreme [/i]duress.”

“As I do every time,” Chrysalis said with an empty smile, Celestia’s horn already glowing.

“Let the river of history stay the course,” Celestia said.

“Likewise.”

And with that, they both phased out of the world that never was.