Serpent's Embrace

Six hundred years ago, she had been born.

Six hundred years ago, she had opened her eyes, for the first time in her life.

Six hundred years ago, she heard a ragged gasp.

Six hundred years ago, she made her first kill.

A week later, she had realized it had been her mother.

Such is the life of a basilisk. Born as servants to the void, they spend their lives consuming the lives of others; up until the day they give birth to their daughters. Once they hatch from their eggs, the newborns unhoned powers over decay will kill their own mothers, and the cycle will continue. Unless, another being slays them before they are of age.

In the past, the only creatures that possessed the strength and the audacity to challenge a basilisk, were the territorial dragons, and the mighty ursa majors. Nowadays, with the invention of high quality steel weapons, groups of lesser life forms, such as ponies or griffons, would muster the courage to confront the deadly serpents, and on very rare occasions would prevail.

Typically, these battles would end in the utter annihilation of those foolish enough to face them. As she would soon demonstrate.

She almost pitied the group of ponies that came charging at her out of the woods, weapons raised. Equipped with heavy armor and eyes wide opened, they were obviously ill prepared to face her.

But as a predator she is merciless, most of her victims hadn't been ready for death's embrace. She channeled energy through her lifeless eyes; watching indifferently as the equines dumb enough to stare at her were reduced into skeletons.

Those that hadn't been exposed to her flesh rotting gaze learned from their fallen's mistake, and either turned their eyes to the ground, or closed them entirely

Better, but they were still doomed to fail. Unable to predict her attack with their eyes directed elsewhere, the rest were crushed like insects, by a single blow from her immense body. Sticky red blood stained her dull grey scales, eliciting a hiss of irritation. Her role in life may have been to deprive it from others; but that didn't mean she enjoyed it. Especially when it was done messily.

Even so she felt a twinge of respect for the ones she had just killed. Though they had aimed to kill her, it was obvious they didn't expect to succeed. Behind them in the distance a small village was being evacuated, no doubt caused by the basilisk's presence. Throughout her long life she had witnessed scenes like this a dozen times, perhaps even hundreds; yet even now they still baffled her. What possessed these creatures to throw their lives away for others? She herself didn't fear her coming demise, but she would never willingly do anything to shorten its coming.

She had once asked why mortals performed these bizarre actions to a valiant minotaur warrior, who sacrificed himself to save his tribe from her. "Love," was all he had said before he had succumbed to her venomous fangs.

Contrary to popular belief, basilisks were not completely devoid of emotions. They could become angry, they knew what happiness was, and could even become depressed at times. But they certainly didn't experience this feeling known as "love", nor did they understand it. The concept of forfeiting everything for another was alien to them as a pegasus city in the sky was to a diamond dog.

The basilisk sighed, tiredly. That was enough contemplating for a lifetime; now she had work to do. She slithered hurriedly to her destination, leaving behind a black trail of acidic slime. If she was quick enough she may be able to pick off a couple of stragglers. Fat chance of that happening, she snorted irritably. The diligent eyes of pegasi were able to alert their communities of her presence long before she was within a hour's distance from them. Furthermore, the increasing production of carts ensured that even the injured and the most decrepit of individuals could escape her deadly wake.

Still, she continued onward. Perhaps luck would be on her side for once.

It wasn't. Once she arrived at the village, empty houses and trash is all that is left. A smattering of rats and other small animals being the only signs of life. She turned to leave, disappointed. Failure in a hunt was common, even expected, but as time went on she noticed that it was gradually occurring more often. At this rate she would starve before she was able to give birth to her child; a situation unprecedented amongst her kind.

Before she was able to call it a day, the cries of a foal in distress stopped her. Her forked tongue flicked out of her jaws hungrily, a foal may provide little sustenance but it was better than nothing.

Her acute hearing tuned into the despairing melody, searching for its player. The piercing wails comes from a small straw shack, which she did not hesitate to destroy. Her massive head tearing through the thatch roof to get to her prize. She peered down upon the mewling infant, not one to devour her catch before giving it a cursory look-over. The foal in question was a male earth pony that seemed to have been only several months old. His pelt a light yellow color, slightly stained by dirt, and his mane was a ridiculous pink sheen. The basilisk sneered at his coloration. How the ancestors of ponies were able to survive the wild with their insanely bright furs was beyond her.

The basilisk opened her mouth to crunch down on his fragile body, the most painless method of death available to her. The foal opens his previously shut eyes, once her foul breath is inhaled by him. His cyan eyes met her white ones as she waited for his reaction.

Unexpectedly, the foal giggled and his stubby forelimbs clutched her snout. The basilisk's eyes widen in surprise, understandably not expecting that sort of response. She awkwardly stares at the remarkable foal suckling on one of her scales; any thought of destroying him competently shattered. She couldn't just leave him either however. Doing so would almost guarantee he would expire from slow starvation; and she admittedly felt a strange desire to stay with him. Perhaps curious as to how he would develop?

She stayed in place for several moments, the strangeness of her quandary seemingly protracted its length.

And so in the first time in history: a basilisk would live to see the day she became a mother.