A Change in Strategy

Bellum awoke, and immediately realized that she was not in her sleeping quarters. This was not as abnormal as it first appeared, and she did her best to stay calm and absorb as much information as she could while pretending to sleep.

She was in a square-ish room, completely blank of features, likely one of the barracks for the warrior drones. The air felt... thin, lighter than she was used to. Were they near the surface? Master Leer was there, which immediately heightened the tension she felt creeping up on her. Her Creator was there which, after their last conversation, did nothing to assuage her nervousness. Finally, there was-

Immediately her eyes snapped open and she bowed very low, pressing her nose to the stone floor. The last changeling present was by far the most terrifying. Queen Chrysalis herself was here.

This was not the first time that she had seen the Queen since her hatching, but each time had come with careful prepping from both Leer and her Creator. And none of those times had all three been in the room at the same time with her.

"I see our little experiment is awake," said the Queen with a condescending smirk.

Bellum did not say a word. She would be addressed when it was her time to speak, and she knew that.

"Indeed, my Queen," her Creator replied, and the tone told Bellum something. Proxima Chitis was nervous about something. Was today some sort of test? Some form of assignment? Her Creator had not made any illusions to the young changeling about what would happen to both of them should Bellum fail in her ultimate mission. Perhaps today had something to do with that?

Leer remained silent, as was his custom. His emotions were unclouded, however, likely out of respect for the Queen, and Bellum was surprised to find that he, too, was anxious.

"It would seem that her curiosity is piqued," Chrysalis said, "Leer, why don't you explain to her what her task is for today?"

Leer shuffled uncomfortably, leaning back against the rough stone wall that made up the chamber, "Alright, kid. Today you're... you're going to meet your mark."

Bellum tensed. Did he mean...

Leer nodded, "It's what you think. We were able to abduct Stratus Fairweather from her family for long enough for you to do your thing. She's waiting outside."

Bellum stood a little taller and looked her teacher in his hard, emerald eyes, "I'm ready."

The Queen, resplendent in her shimmering gossamer gown, fluttered her wings in pleasure, "Such spine in this one! You did well in training her, Leer. I almost begin to believe that she might just pull this off."

That comment stung more than Bellum would have liked. She knew that her Creator had faith in her design, but the idea that the Queen was sending her on what Her Highness viewed as little more than a point-proving suicide mission was... disconcerting.

Leer looked troubled as well, and he did something then that shocked everyone in the room. He spoke again, out of turn.

"Be careful, Bellum. Her mind is... complex. What you're doing is something that-"

"Leer!" the Queen said, and the spymaster immediately snapped his mouth shut.

Chrysalis turned a now much colder gaze on Bellum, who did her best not to tremble underneath the weight of the Queen's stare. They stood like that for some time, in absolute silence.

Finally, Chrysalis broke the silence.

"Bring her in," she said sharply, and a section of the wall opened inward.

A pegasus was led into the moderately sized chamber. She was quite large, for her breed, and her wingspan was absolutely massive. Bellum tried her best not to gawk at this creature she was supposed to imitate. Four gangly limbs, a mane of matted and dirty yellow hair, a creamy coat. The flank was the most interesting part, as it bore the image of a wing covering the sun. Her eyes were violet, though heavily bruised and lidded from lack of sleep and the no doubt terrifying ordeal of kidnapping.

The guards, two hulking warriors, chained the pony to the far wall, bowed low to the Queen, and then silently exited the room.

Chitis cleared her throat and spoke for the first time, "Bellum, this is your primary persona for your mission. You know what to do."

And she did. She had been trained, brutally, exclusively for this task. All at once the understanding that this was the first step on her path, and that it was being overseen by three incredibly exacting judges crashed into her.

Steady, she told herself, breathe.

She took a few moments to collect herself, calming her racing heart and fighting off a wave of nausea.

"Alright," she said, opening her eyes, "Here we go."

To begin, she commanded one of her hivelings to hatch from one of the many pores that dotted her back. There was a sharp pain in her side, the sensation always accompanied the process, and a miniscule grub slapped to the floor. She gently picked it up in one hoof, and carried it over to the drugged and dazed pony. It attached itself at the base of the neck, underneath the mane line, and quickly camouflaged itself as nothing more than a strand of loose hair. From there, she understood, it began pumping its host full of various chemicals to assess the brain structure, and began harvesting any emotion that it could reach to fuel its growth into the spinal column and up the brain stem. Once it had made connection with the host's neurons, awareness of the other pony snapped into Bellum's consciousness.

This part was normal, and expected. Now came the hard part, which she had never done before. She closed her eyes, and made connection with the grub. A series of biological processes occurred which she did not fully understand, the fruits of her Creator's sleep deprived, half-mad mind during the days following the Canterlot siege. There was a strange shifting sensation in her forebrain, nausea, and a sudden feeling of weightlessness. Then her consciousness itself slammed into the pony.

She began assimilating memories. Starting from the earliest childhood of seeing her parents' faces, and of playing with small toys. The entire time she had to remain certain that she was herself, Bellum, standing before her teacher, her Creator, and the Queen. Even as she took in memories that she was certain were her own. Even as she... began to live them.

"No..." she said aloud, though it was barely a whisper.

"Steady, girl," Leer said, despite himself.

"Leer!" the Queen snapped, "if you cannot contain your outbursts you will be ejected from this chamber. Allow her to finish."

These memories... the memories of Stratus Fairweather... were horrible. Dark things, this mare had done, even in her youth. The seventh daughter of a massively wealthy house, the cruelty she had shown to servants and playmates... the pain she had inflicted upon so many...

Bellum began to convulse as her stomach yearned to wretch at the things she had done, "I cannot be her, I could not-"

"You will be!" her Creator snapped, and that shut her up.

Control, maintain control, She thought to herself, breathing hard against the memories. The emotions that flooded her... she never could have imagined reveling in pain, enjoying the killing of things and the crying of those less fortunate than her. She was a changeling, and feasted on Love, but this... this was feasting on Fear. On Pain. On Death.

I... am a monster, she concluded, and suddenly it all made sense. This creature was not a pony, was not a changeling. It was something else, and she was simply learning to absorb it, control it. She could maintain this sphere of emotions and memories as something other, as a separate entity. Still the horrors flooded in, but Bellum was in control now. She had circumscribed this creature, and now felt for it nothing but raw contempt.

"Good," the Queen purred, "yes, child. You can see it, can't you? How it's done? The Old Way, before the Change."

Bellum sucked in one final breath. And then she Changed for the first and only time in her life.

Stratus Fairweather opened her eyes, and beheld three changelings. She smiled, and said, "Transformation complete. Ready for my next assignment." She had no clue why she said those things, only that those things were right to say.