Prologue—A Queen Disgraced
Breathe slowly.
Gytha’s poise was imperfect, and she knew it. Her lips twitched ever so slightly; her wings flittered every now and then; her head hung low and too forwards. This was no way for a Greneclyfian queen to sit upon her throne before receiving a foreign dignitary. The Changeling wanted to blame the heavy regalia that she was unused to wearing, but she knew the real reason behind her poor composure.
A Changeling Queen was the foreign dignitary.
Slowly exhale.
The sensation was different from when Gytha had first learned of the Changelings living on a continent across the great ocean. The mood had almost been festive back then. Now though? She was about to receive a queen in exile, and if the reports were true…
Breathe in.
The Queen tried once more to straighten herself to a more suitable stance, though she couldn’t quite manage it. It had to be the crown that kept her posture just that tiny bit hunched over. Yes, it had to be that.
Her eyes drank in the throne room. It had been refurbished for the occasion. With the ancient banners of Gytha’s house newly washed and standing proudly above her and her throne. Greneclyf might not have had the wealth or raw power than the foreigner’s former realm, but it had a history that lived in the aging heraldry and the somewhat opaque finery that Gytha wore; this, she felt, would impress her guest.
At least, that was the hope.
Breathe out.
With all of the ceremonial guards prepared and the nobility ready, the Queen gave a subtle nod to the herald by the entrance of the throne room. The tabard that the little officer of arms wore was perhaps a size too large, but she carried herself as was expected from her post and managed to make the discrepancy almost entirely insignificant. She bowed and began the ceremony.
“Rise, noble Greneclyfians!” The herald fluttered her wings, lifting herself to stand on her hind legs. The few Changelings that weren’t guards followed suit. “We open our doors and hearts to welcome our most dignified guests from across the seas.”
The horns of the two guards by the decorated wooden doors lit up, and the doors with them. These opened slowly, and the hall beyond the entrance was revealed along with those waiting there.
“Presenting Queen Chrysalis of Vesalipolis and her entourage.”
A tense silence gripped over the chamber as the newcomers entered. Muted hoofsteps rang out along with the droning of buzzing wings. Queen Gytha’s breath quickened as she observed the group walking in formation.
They were large; even the smallest drone stood at about eye level with the burlier guards, and the largest one of the retinue was just shorter than Gytha. Despite their sizes though, these Changelings were gangly and scarred at the limbs, typical symptoms of starvation. Still, despite their haggard and emanciated appearance, they carried themselves in a manner that befitted their role as those closest to royalty. The retinue not once slouching or straying from their positions around their leader.
And Hatcher below, their leader!
She was a full head taller than Gytha, and had a lean build that held a quasi haunting quality to it. Her matted cerulean mane, riddled with holes similar to those upon her hooves, still held a sheen that complimented those startlingly sharp eyes. In spite of her ashen look, the approaching royal still held her head high and proud, as was expected of anyone of royalty.
Chrysalis did not bow when she came to a stop, and so did her followers. The only one of the group who did was one of Gytha’s own.
Mild irritation trickled along the back of her neck, but the Queen merely tightened her smile. She’s another queen, Gytha reminded herself. No amount of training could have fully prepared her for hosting her racial equal, and no guidelines detailing such a procedure existed. She’d have to play this by ear.
Gytha lifted her head slightly. “You may rise,” she declared aloud to the group, even though only the Greneclyfian responded.
“Queen Chrysalis wishes to express her sincerest thanks to thee for allowing her into thine lands,” the small translator began. The fact that Chrysalis’s eyes were wandering about the chamber didn’t escape Gytha’s notice.
“State your case,” Gytha said with a friendly wave of her foreleg.
The translator turned to the strange Changeling and spoke haltingly in a foreign tongue. Only then did Chrysalis’s attention seem to focus on Gytha. She replied in a loud and fluent voice, her tone both exotic and oddly familiar, to the members in the audience. She never took her eyes off of Gytha.
The translator’s lips thinned, but he did not miss a beat. “Milady, the noble Queen Chrysalis beseeches thee to open thine heart to offer asylum for her and her retinue.”
Gytha’s eyebrow rose somewhat. Chrysalis’s words sounded few for what the translator had provided. “From whom?”
The question was relayed and the guests’ mood changed. So far, both parties had closely guarded their emotions, but a wave of anger crashed upon Gytha. It wasn’t directed at her, but its intensity made it seem otherwise.
Chrysalis sneered and spoke many words in quick succession. The translator was continually interrupted before she was finished.
“A ah, a traitor, Milady,” he explained. “A miscreant who led the Queen’s own against her and has aligned his rogue state with Equestria.” The Changeling shot a sideways glance towards the foreign Queen. “She… details many atrocities committed by the rebels upon her loyal subjects.”
Gytha met the steely eyes of Chrysalis and saw no faults through the determined gaze of the Queen. Gytha was almost inclined to believe her were it not for the numerous accounts that her own agents had brought back. There had definitely been atrocities, but not as the royal claimed.
A part of her wanted to call out the blatant lie right then and there, but the thought was overshadowed by her fascination of the current circumstances.
“We see,” Gytha began slowly, speaking directly to Chrysalis. “We are prepared to offer you refuge within Greneclyf, Queen Chrysalis. Our homes and our food shall be provided to you as if you were one of our own.”
A smile grew on the guest’s muzzle as the translator related Gytha’s words. Before he was allowed to finish, the Queen cut off any response that Chrysalis had in mind with a raised hoof.
“However, your actions and ways are known to us,” Gytha said with a firm voice. “We may be ignorant of the greater political schemes in your lands, but do not pretend that you are a friend to Greneclyf.” She rose to her full height. “You may stay, but only under the condition that you and your kin shall abide to Our ways, and work under Our rule.”
Much to everyone’s surprise, Chrysalis did not bother waiting for the translation and explicitly addressed Gytha.
“Queen Gytha,” the royal said in a heavily accented form of Gytha’s tongue, impolitely taking further steps towards the throne, “you are naive, and I don’t blame you.” She paused when she noticed the guards menacingly tightening their grips on their halberds, but turned once more to face Gytha.
Chrysalis took a breath and spoke once more, far less heatedly. “There is a certain order to things that must stay inviolable, such as a royal being the leader of a hive.” She tilted her head to the side. “Surely you know this.”
In spite of the guest’s rude manners, Gytha reluctantly nodded. “Aye, that is true.”
“The traitors back home have profaned upon the natural order, and I have the Equestrian Principality to blame.” Chrysalis brought a hoof to her chest. “They have been my enemies for years, and have done everything to destroy our way of life, including supporting that rabble rouser Thorax.”
Gytha didn’t need to be an empath to feel the venom that the royal had laced upon that name—she had almost spat it as if it were poison.
Regardless of the spiteful words, Chrysalis’s features softened and almost looked... relatable, as if she were just another one of Gytha’s subjects.
When she spoke again, the anger was gone. Instead there was a calmer and sober quality to Chrysalis’s voice.
“I have been cut off from world affairs for some time,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “but your missions abroad have been failing, correct?”
In response, Gytha’s lips thinned. So she knew. “The concerns of our foreign policies are not yours to bear,” she said slowly.
“Perhaps not,” Chrysalis admitted with small tilt of her head, “but my Changelings and I know about the outside world.” She took one additional step. “We can share our knowledge with you and your people and prepare you for this hostile world.”
The Queen took in a sharp breath. What is she playing at? Gytha wondered. “We…” She ran her tongue along her teeth. “We thank you for your offer, Queen Chrysalis. Though Greneclyf is doing well enough as is.”
A small spike of annoyance accompanied the hitch in Chrysalis’s poise, but they both quickly melted away into the neutral mask from before. Eventually she added, “My offer is still on the table—” She bowed her head. “—Queen Gytha.”
The foreign Changelings behind the royal had been impassive for the most part, but the words and tone of their queen had earned a response in the form of widened eyes from them. In truth, Gytha herself was pleasantly surprised, though she had kept a better grip on her emotions. Still, she allowed the corners of her mouth to rise just a tad.
“We’ll keep it in mind,” she replied. Sitting back upon her throne, Gytha said, “In the meantime, you shall be housed and fed for the foreseeable future; Our homes and food will be yours.
“If,” she added slowly, “there is nothing more to discuss, We can end this audience.” All eyes fell upon the deferring guest.
Chrysalis worked her jaws for a moment before answering. “No, there is nothing else.”
“Very well then,” Gytha said before loudly stamping a hoof upon her throne. “You are free to leave, Queen Chrysalis.”
The foreigner deeply bowed her head. “I thank you for your time, Queen Gytha.” She flicked a wing and her loyalists parted slightly to allow their leader to be surrounded by them. They had begun to take their leave when Chrysalis stopped to turn her head.
“Remember, Your Highness,” she said, putting on a toothy grin that was far too large for Gytha’s liking. Even the fangs were longer and sharper than Gytha’s! “We are ready to help.” She continued on without waiting for a response as the doors closed behind them.
The chamber fell silent once more as the Greneclyfian elders and nobles began to file out towards their own exits, while Gytha remain sat upon her throne.
She’s dangerous, she decided, noting Chrysalis’s surprising insight on the matters of state. With the reputation that Chrysalis had earned herself, Gytha would have to keep careful watch over any machinations that she might try to pull. The Queen could not allow a potential enemy in on her own plans.
Still…
Gytha let out a slight sigh as an assistant eased her out of her jeweled dress. Perhaps there was some value in Chrysalis’s offer. The Griffons on the continent had already chasen away Greneclyfian envoys, though that was to be expected. The ones sent to Farbrook and the other Pony nations had not yet returned, which was both a good and bad sign. If the others turned her away, would Gytha still find a friend in Cenhelm and his kin?
She dismissed the notion of Farbrook closing its harbours to Greneclyf. The royal knew Cenhelm; he’d come through for her. She could feel it.
Making for her own exit, Gytha’s mind focused on Chrysalis once more as one question stood out.
What am I going to do with you?
“And who does this represent?”
Gytha followed Chrysalis’s gaze and beheld the heraldry of Queen Deidre, the Broken Horn on a snowy hill. “That’s Queen Deidre, Our great grandmother.” She came to a halt, and the armour of the escorts rattled aloud as they followed suit. “She lived around four hundred years ago, and had agreed to the Second Great Pact.”
“The Second Great Pact?” Chrysalis echoed with a raised eyebrow, taking a moment to admire the tapestry.
“The Reaffirmation, Chrysalis,” Gytha turned to face her guest, looking up to meet her eyes, “of the friendship between Farbrook and Greneclyf.”
That had earned her a muted scoff from Chrysalis in the form of a twitch of her lips. “Friendship,” the royal muttered, flicking her eyes upon the tapestry once more. “Why a broken horn?” she asked with a pointed hoof.
“‘Tis really a tale about a broken heart,” the Queen explained. “Not long after the accord, Queen Deidre approached the Farbrookian Chieftain, Albar, to further their friendship.”
Chrysalis immediately understood. “She loved him,” she said quietly, prompting a nod from Gytha. “And he rebuffed her.” Another nod. The foreign Changeling snorted and shook her head. “Why am I not surprised?”
Gytha’s jaw clenched somewhat. “The timing was inopportune,” she insisted, “nothing more.”
“Or perhaps,” Chrysalis piped up, glancing sideways at the Queen, “it was nothing more than a smitten fool hoping that she could overcome Pony nature.”
Anger promptly flared within the Queen as she shot a glare straight at Chrysalis. Menacing hisses emanated from both of the escorts behind the two royals, and Chrysalis was suddenly very aware of her situation.
“Watch thy tongue, Royal,” Gytha spoke in an ominous tone that she barely recognized. “You and your subjects’ accommodations are solely dependent on Our hospitality. Lest you wish for the cold outside, We suggest that you do not speak ill of Our ancestors.”
There was a long and tense pause as both royals stood their grounds. To her credit, Chrysalis did not look troubled, even though Gytha could taste the underlying anxiety behind the neutral mask. Eventually, she thought that she spotted a crack in it in the form of a twinge of Chrysalis’s smile. Good.
Remorse hit Gytha in full force at the malicious thought. Why was she finding pleasure in threatening someone? What would her mother, bless her, think if she knew of this? The anger abated slowly as the monarch let out a slow breath. “I‒ We apologize.” Gytha rubbed her forehead with a hoof. “It was not Our intention to threaten you.”
“No,” Chrysalis said in a wheeze, as if she had forgotten to breathe. “I was the one out of line, and I ought to be the one apologizing, Your Majesty.”
The Queen scrutinised the larger Changeling for a moment longer before relaxing her shoulders. “Yes,” she said slowly, nodding to herself. “Yes, see to it that you watch your step.”
“I will do so, Queen Gytha,” Chrysalis replied with a hoof to her chest. “But poor word choice asides, I mean what I say.” Gytha’s gaze hardened immediately, but she stopped short of snapping at the sight of Chrysalis’s raised hoof. “Please, I don’t mean to insult the memory of Queen Deidre, but even if her heart was true, her love would never have been reciprocated by this Albar character.”
Gytha maintained her hard stare, and flicked her wings and tail in irritation, but she held her tongue. Sensing the unspoken consent, Chrysalis continued slowly. “Only another Changeling would truly have loved Diedre back, and it would not have been her fault.
“I know the feeling all too well, Your Majesty,” she said, casting her eyes downwards, not looking at anything in particular. “I—” The royal cleared her throat. “The world hates us for what we are. It is pointless for us to try to befriend anyone who is not one of us, because they will never see us as anything other than parasites.
“I’ve tasted their hatred directly,” she stated resolutely, locking eyes with her petite host. “And I shall carry that taste with me until I meet the Hatcher for the last time.”
The two Changelings did not break eye contact. Gytha did not sense anything asides from the sincerity in the latter words, and knew that the foreign Queen had suffered much at the hooves of the Pony kind back in her lands. That much was true.
What left her unconvinced of Chrysalis’s thinking was her own personal friendship with Cenhelm, and the countless relationships that Greneclyfians shared with Farbrookians. There was clearly room for growth (at least when it came to improving what had been agreed in the Second Great Pact) and whenever she was reminded of her great grandmother’s tale, Gytha did sometimes compare her relation with Cenhelm to Diedre’s. Perhaps Queen Diedre’s ancient goal of proving to the world that love truly could transcend all species could fall upon her.
The question was, did Gytha truly see the stallion in that light?
Putting such thoughts aside, she focused on Chrysalis. “You forget the Great Pacts, Chrysalis.” She motioned the royal to follow, leading both her and the two escorts further down the chamber to a set of majestic draperies.
There were two pieces, each embroidered and weaved with fine textiles of colours that were perhaps more alive when they were first spun, but still held rich details even centuries afterwards. The first, the one on the left, recreated the scene of Fingal sharing his love to a starving Queen Dylis, whereas the second on the left depicted Queen Diedre offering refuge to Albar during a particularly harsh winter. Each piece had distinct styles, with the first utilising the Katellian style, typical of the time in Greneclyf, while the second was woven in the Farbrookian way.
This had a sister tapestry that currently resided in Farbrook, and they were made possible thanks to the collaboration between two people. Their mere existence was a message enough in it of itself, and was a living embodiment to the interspecies cooperation that Chrysalis insisted that could not exist.
“Here, Chrysalis.” Gytha waved a leg with a bit of a dramatic flair. “These are the Great Pacts. This is the First Sharing, with Queen Dylis and Chieftain Fingal from over eight hundred years ago, whereas this one” —she pointed to the second embroidery— “is the Frozen Refuge that my great grandmother had offered to Albar.”
She turned to attentively observe Chrysalis, noticing a small tingle of appreciation trickling from the royal. A few seconds of silent contemplation passed, and Chrysalis nodded slightly.
“These are rather beautiful,” she stated clinically, taking a moment longer to view the First Sharing. “I imagine that they represent the pacts, correct?”
Gytha tilted her head to the side, blinking. “Well, yes. These are the pacts.”
Chrysalis began to nod again before her ears perked up. She turned slightly to see the Queen from the corner of her eye. “Wait... ” She snorted. “Surely you’re not referring to the scenes depicted here.”
“We—” Gytha shook her head. “We’ve meant what We have said,” she said, confused.
The large Changeling turned to the Queen, then back to the Pacts, angling her head to find a perspective that simply didn’t exist. “Wha‒ but…!” She buzzed her wings to go airborne and look behind the tapestry from above. She slowly hovered back to the floor, completely astounded.
“What are you searching?”
“What am I sear‒ where is the paperwork?” Chrysalis suddenly demanded. “There has to be the written record of any formal agreements! How else can they be followed as they were supposed to be when they were penn—” She stopped herself before bringing a hoof to her head and groaning. “Hatcher Below...”
Gytha finally caught on, finishing Chrysalis’s thought. “Queen Diedre and Albar were illiterate, Chrysalis, and so were nearly all of their respective subjects. Needless to say, so were Queen Dylis, Fingal and their subjects.”
“Bu‒ but then...” Chrysalis craned her head to be at eye level with the smaller royal. “There is no legal obligation for either you or them to assist one another.”
The Queen gave her a funny look. “Honour and mutual respect for one another will uphold the Pacts,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That will ensure Farbrook’s acceptance of our requests, should all of our diplomatic envoys and offers of friendship be rebuffed by the others.”
Chrysalis clearly did not see it that way, sputtering some more in her native tongue before giving up the effort. Groaning once more and pointing to the Pacts, she said, “This, this right here.” She turned to face Gytha. “This will be your undoing with Farbrook. They will play the part of the sympathetic Ponies until it’s no longer convenient for them.”
“You know nothing, Royal,” Gytha spat. “Our history—” she brought a hoof to her chest “—nay, Our own experiences prove otherwise.”
Her foreign counterpart scoffed. “You will see, Queen,” she spoke slowly, her strange accent fully evident. “Greneclyf will require assistance from its nominal friends, and they will not come.” The royal shrugged her shoulders and threw out a leg. “What will you do then?”
“Out,” Gytha hissed through her teeth.
Chrysalis began to reply but stopped when she sensed the raw rage hidden underneath the thin veneer of civility. Even the two escorts scowled fiercely at the foreigner. Eventually, she gave a light curtsy. “As you wish,” said Chrysalis in her neutral voice before walking past the Queen, followed closely by the guards.
Gytha watched Chrysalis’s form as she walked away, getting a good view of her whole body. Time had been kind to Chrysalis during her stay in Greneclyf: the scarring on her limbs had almost healed entirely, and her wings were now whole; the exotic mane and tail were no longer matted, oily things, but neatly combed and trimmed; her body, while still lean, did not appear nearly as fragile as it did when she had first arrived, and her chitin bore a sheen that was pleasant to the eyes. Even the horn had become somewhat less gnarled.
Watching the form sway with every step, Gytha had almost thought of this new Chrysalis as beautiful.
But she saw for what she was: an apple with an interior rotten to the core.
Still, as Gytha stood there quietly venting her frustration through a few long-winded sighs, she knew that there was a good reason in keeping Chrysalis around, even though it was somewhat hard to spot it right then.
Though an advisor, there had still been skepticism from the elders and the small council regarding as to where the former queen’s loyalties truly lay. Her old hatreds had promptly shut down any conversation of reconciliation with Equestria and the current Changeling state in the other continent, garnering much reproach from everyone involved. Even Gytha, having taken Chrysalis under her wing (ironic as it may have been to some), glimpsed signs of dishonesty underneath the fanged smiles and in between the few friendly words of redemption.
Really, the reason that Chrysalis was still kept within the inner circle was pragmatic more than anything else. Chrysalis and her followers still had valuable lessons and knowledge to share, and Gytha had held onto the hope of perhaps bringing the foreign Queen to her line of thinking. After all, it had been her House’s philosophy for centuries. Surely there was merit to it if it had led the Hives for so many years.
Still…
Gytha stopped herself dead. No, she told herself as she beheld the Pacts once more. Cenhelm will come through. He can be trusted.
She quietly made her way out of the chamber.
It happened.
Gytha had demanded for the messenger to repeat himself twice, but his report remained the same both times. The drone’s demeanour had grown more and more concerned with each recounting, wings aflutter and eyes widened at the edge in his liege’s voice. When he had finished for the third time, the Queen was deathly still.
“My Queen?” he asked tentatively, ears splayed back.
Gytha did not react. In fact, she had barely heard the Changeling. Her breathing slowed to a near-wavering inhale. She focused only on her breathing: Slow inhale, slow exhale.
Moments passed, and Gytha thought that she heard the drone ask another question. She took a sharp breath as her eyes flicked over to him. He shifted under the scrutinising gaze, but otherwise held his ground.
“I—” The Changeling coughed. “My Queen, are you feeling alright?”
The royal closed her eyes and tried to concentrate once more on her breaths while thinking on the question. A particularly loud and long exhale through her nose and heaving of her shoulders afterwards, Gytha’s mind went back to one name.
The messenger leaned closer; his Queen had whispered her response. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”
Gytha’s whole form shuddered, and her brows knitted tightly. The corners of her eyes glistened. Cenhelm… Cenhelm…!
The smaller Changeling scrambled away as the large monarch fell down to her buckling knees. A wall of deep misery and sobs radiating from her threatened to overwhelm the drone and the others nearby. A wordless cry emanated throughout the chamber that almost compelled those around their Queen to lose themselves in her sorrow.
This didn’t matter to Gytha, none of them did.
The Griffons’ refusal was expected. The Equestrians’ refusal was a surprise, but ultimately made sense. The refusal from the tribes under the Federation was worrisome. Farbrook’s refusal… It was a devastating betrayal of an ancient trust.
Since the times of Queen Dylis, Farbrook had been the only point of contact with the outside world for the Changelings of Greneclyf, and their only true friend. Whenever the situation had called for it, both states had helped the other at its time of need. Had all else failed, Gytha had Cenhelm to fall back on. To think otherwise was impossible. It was a trade deal! Why would they refuse that?
“Why?” she asked aloud at the tail end of her sobs. “Why, Cenhelm?”
What had changed? He had been a dear friend to the Queen, and she had shared intimate information with the charismatic stallion. To think that she had entertained the notion of considering him as something more than a friend…
Was Chrysalis right after all?
A few Changelings approached to offer their affection, but her emotions were too much for them. They instead joined in Gytha’s grief, tearing up and sobbing quietly along with her. The others stayed at bay to not become overcome themselves. Confusion reigned as those unaffected called for assistance from beyond the political chamber.
All the meanwhile, the Queen lay there with three drones, all wallowing in their shared anguish. For those passing minutes, nothing beyond those Changelings existed.
An accented voice finally managed to pierce through the despondency and stirred Gytha and her subjects enough to become aware of their surroundings. Through bleary eyes, Gytha looked to see the approaching figure.
Chrysalis stood tall over the small mess of Changelings, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s happened he—” Her words died as she doubtlessly felt the immense heartache, flinching as she had gotten too close. She secured her stance as if she were bracing against a particularly powerful gust of wind.
Her horn shimmered with magic, and ethereal tendrils spread from the tip. Four green beams slithered through the air effortlessly and reached to Gytha and the drones, softly impacting each one in their chest. The Queen felt part of her very self being cut away, but whereas this would have normally been cause for concern, the shroud that was upon Gytha was slowly being removed. The glimmering beams of emotional energy drew out the gloom, and the afflicted recovered their senses.
Eventually Chrysalis had to cut off the flow of magic, trembling and sagging when she did. The Queen was still not well, but…
“Thank you,” Gytha whispered, still teary-eyed.
The larger royal sniffed in between the heavy breaths and rubbed her eyes, barely glancing her way. “D-don’t, hah, mention it.” Chrysalis took a few uncertain steps towards Gytha and helped her up. “I’ll ask again,” she asked, huffing once more before she sobered up. “What happened?”
Had circumstances been different, Gytha suspected that she would have avoided answering the question, using her rank as Queen and the excuse of Chrysalis being a stranger as possible justifications. Had things been different, Gytha would have kept quiet.
And yet…
“Cenhelm,” she said after a false start. “His reply has finally gotten back to us, a-and…” She stopped herself before the tears returned in force.
Chrysalis blinked a few times before she nodded briskly. “I uh, I see.”
“You were right, Chrysalis,” the Queen said, shutting her eyes and scrunching up her face. “You’ve said it so many times, and I didn’t listen.” She brought up her hooves to bury her face in, and her whole form shook with barely-restrained weeping. Tears began to roll down her muzzle. “Why couldn’t I…?”
A leg hooked around Gytha, gently pushing to get her to move. “Come on now, Your Majesty,” Chrysalis said in a hushed tone. “This is no way for a queen to behave in front of her subjects.” She looked about and spotted many drones looking on with concern evident on their faces.
Gytha’s wails renewed with vigour, and pushed the closer elders and assistants to the limit. All too quickly, the chamber was thick with the emotional pain. Even Chrysalis staggered at the waves of hopelessness.
“Hatcher Below,” she muttered despondedly to herself before putting more effort in her coaxing. “Th-there’s a time and place for this, Gytha!” The two royals stumbled out of the small council chamber and slowly made their way to the Queen’s private chambers, earning themselves the attention of the few Changelings in the corridors in the meanwhile.
Gytha had barely noticed that she was being herded away from everyone. All of her drifting thoughts centered around Chrysalis’s prophetic words from all those weeks ago.
You will see, Queen. Greneclyf will require assistance from its nominal friends, and they will not come.
This line of thinking demonstrated that, for all that made Chrysalis and her small group Changelings so alike to Gytha and her own Changelings, they were still fundamentally different. It compounded difficulties that the two parties suffered through already because of Chrysalis’s prideful arrogance, and had put the two royals at odds multiple times after that first spat.
And, she had been right all along.
The closing of a door tore her from her inner thoughts. Gytha found herself on her private chaise, and spotted Chrysalis standing by the large wooden door, huffing heavily.
“What was that?” Chrysalis demanded. Gytha merely drew a quiet breath and hung her head. “Breaking down in front of everyone like that,” Chrysalis continued, approaching Gytha. “That was an embarrassment!”
Again, Gytha stayed quiet, letting her head droop further down into her hooves.
Chrysalis shook her head and stopped right next the downtrodden Queen. “You are the Hive, and the Hive is you. You can’t just let—”
She was interrupted by a leaping hug from Gytha, who had begun crying into Chrysalis’s mane. The larger royal stumbled at the sudden weight, and barely managed to stand upright while Gytha wept.
“You were right,” the Queen mewled. “You were right, and I didn’t listen.” She dug her face deeper into the comforting hair. “I didn’t… I-I-I couldn’t…” Gytha continued to babble incoherently, leaving a very surprised Chrysalis unsure of what to do.
Gingerly, Chrysalis hooked a leg around Gytha’s neck, and ran her free hoof along the back of the neck. “Come on, Gytha,” she mumbled. “This‒ this isn’t healthy. For either of us.”
This continued for a while, with Chrysalis vainly trying to comfort the bawling royal. The simple physical contact between the two was soothing to Gytha, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Chrysalis seemed to realize this and, with a sigh, lit up her horn once more to soak up the melancholy that permeated the room.
All Gytha could sense was that very melancholy being severed away, and she felt herself getting a grip on things. The sobs were quickly reduced to mere heavy exhalations, and she finally brought a halt to the tears, sniffing instead. Then there was another shimmer of magic from Chrysalis, and this time, Gytha thought that something was… pressed upon her, unlike before. A part of her wanted to understand what Chrysalis had just done, but—
“I’m sorry.” At last, Gytha brought her snout out from Chrysalis’s mane and found her looking away, teary-eyed. “I can’t—” Chrysalis sniffed and rubbed her nose. “I’ve been so selfish.”
That almost fully brought Gytha out from her funk, and she tilted her head. “But you‒ you helped me.”
Chrysalis shook her head vigorously, chewing on her lower lip. “No, not that.” She let out a shuddering breath. “I… I was going to call your Queenship into question, and I…” Her eyes finally met Gytha’s. “I was going to challenge you.”
Gytha’s heart hitched. It took her a moment to understand fully what Chrysalis had meant by that, but the implications were made immediately clear. Chrysalis had wanted to duel her.
Another moment passed. The Queen thought that she would have been furious, or at the very least irritated by this intended betrayal. There she was, a vulnerable little royal, confessing to her criminal intentions.
But there was nothing. No anger, no rising ire, no disappointment: just a sensation of emptiness. Gytha simply could not bring herself to bear any ill will towards Chrysalis. Instead, she felt pity for her. That made her snort slightly. She is far larger than me, she thought, and yet I’m the one pitying her.
Chrysalis noticed the goodwill pouring out from the Queen, and stared dumbfoundedly at the small smile that played on Gytha’s lips. “Wha‒ why aren’t you…?”
“You’ve finally learned,” Gytha said softly, her smile widening. “You could have exploited me at my weakest, Chrysalis.” She brought a hoof to lift Chrysalis’s chin so that she could see those emerald eyes. Funny, were they always this beautiful, or had Gytha never really paid attention to them before?
“But you didn’t.” Chrysalis blinked, astonished. “You didn’t let your vices win over your sympathy. Why else would you have helped me when I needed it the most?” Gytha genuinely asked. “Don’t you see? Your heart is only as great as you allow it, and only with great hearts can we achieve great deeds.”
Chrysalis stared, eyebrows raised high and eyes wide. Then a frail smile took shape and, after a sharp intake, Chrysalis closed in and kissed Gytha right on the lips.
The Queen immediately recoiled, shocked. How dare she?! To make such a forward and absurd move upon a Queen of Greneclyf! That was…!
...What was it?
Gytha knew that she should have been furious, but there was nothing of the sort. There was merely an excitement that had been wholly unexpected. The kiss, as abrupt as it was, was a nice bit of physical contact that she didn’t realize that she was craving for. A part of her still tried to rationalise everything, arguing that this was not proper, and that her emotions had gotten the better of her.
Gytha promptly decided to dismiss that thought.
Chrysalis looked appalled when she saw Gytha’s reaction. “Oh, Hatcher! Why d-did I do that?” She shuddered. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty! I-I-I didn’t mean to—”
“Hush, Chrysalis,” Gytha purred. “Like We’ve said, our hearts are only as great as we allow them, and—” She laughed softly. “—and these shall truly be great.”
Chrysalis’s brows shot up as she was deeply kissed, though she did not once draw away from Gytha, instead leaning in to kiss back. Gytha wrapped her legs around the larger royal, and the two drew even closer to one another.
A shrinking voice in her head tried once more to put a stop to this. But, she didn’t care anymore. Hatcher, she needed this; they both did. Chrysalis had asked her what she would do if and when Cenhelm failed to uphold their friendship. Gytha still didn’t know the answer to that.
All she knew was that she had a good friend to help her.
Chrysalis’s eyes fluttered open, groaning as she shifted her weight. When she felt the bodily warmth to her right, she almost jolted to full consciousness. She and Queen Gytha were in the same bed, sharing the same sheets and space. When she spotted the soft smile adorning Gytha’s tranquil face, Chrysalis loosened up and breathed a sigh of relief.
That was too close.
The way that she had handled the Queen’s negative emotions was a stupid risk. She had taken too much too quickly, and had put everything at risk. It was almost by pure blind luck that Gytha did not have her arrested when Chrysalis had spilled her own plans.
“Stupid,” she said under her breath. Thankfully she had managed to place a powerful enough suggestion upon the Queen. Had she failed to do so, Chrysalis would most definitely not have been waking up in Gytha’s own bed.
This wasn’t part of the original plan, and she would have to rethink everything. Duelling Gytha now didn’t make sense, and Chrysalis knew that if she tried again Gytha would probably be in a better position to stop her.
A sharp snore from the side garnered a quick glance from Chrysalis. Gytha was still soundly asleep, and appeared rather pleased.
I wonder…
The gears in Chrysalis’s mind were working furiously. At first she had thought that the kiss was an absolutely idiotic play on her part, and though it was still that, there was now a tantalising opportunity. This… this was something that she could work with.
Smiling smugly to herself, Chrysalis set her head back upon her pillow, eyeing the Queen’s sleeping form in a new light. This brought to mind old memories from years ago…
She chuckled. Some things never changed. At least Gytha was actually cute, and her performance in bed was both satisfactory and absolutely adorable. This could be the beginning of something wondrous.
And this time, Chrysalis would win.
