A slender arm punched through the thick canopy of foliage, pressing branches, vines, and leaves out of the way. Mother Nature was hardly a worthy foe for Chrysalis who stormed through the Everfree with what seemed like a goal in mind, stamping forwards with no reluctance and utter dedication to her objective.

Which was all the more impressive, because honestly, she had no idea where she was going or what she intended to do.

She’d been like this for weeks now, occupying some semi-feral existence in this accursed forest, only venturing into the civilized world whenever she required a sentient creature to feed upon. It was not a good way to live life but at the moment it was the only way she knew.

All she really needed was a plan, a collection of ideas that would liberate her from this dreary and destitute state.

And she was supposedly good at forming those.

Plans were a speciality of hers, in fact.

She’d drafted many in her long life: The assault on Canterlot, the kidnapping of Princess Twilight and her rabble, the attempted abduction of that little runt that came from Cadance’s accursed womb.

She winced at her mental usage of the word runt, feeling a sick sensation bubble away in her gullet. There were many painful memories attached to that word, many lingering vestiges of trauma which time had only blunted but not removed.

Chrysalis growled in frustration, slamming her fist into a tree.

She yelped, as all this did was send a sharp pain radiating through from her knuckles and up her forearm. The blow was enough to break her thick black hide and soon green blood leaked through, colouring her flesh.

She quickly cradled her hand in her tattered blouse, wrapping it up to the best of her abilities and applying pressure.

“Stupid tree,” she hissed, though no real venom existed in her syllables.

What was the point of planning, of scheming, of meddling in the affairs of ponies, if every route, every attempt to better her hive went up in flames?

Look at her now. She was a queen without a demesne. She was a ruler without a people. She was alone, wandering through a hostile forest with nothing but her tattered clothing, empty stomach, and a sense of dread that coursed through her blood and refused to abate.

If she wanted to plan something productive, she should’ve planned on how to manufacture one of the forest’s many vines into a noose and hang herself. Though knowing her track record, either the branch or vine would break if she attempted this.

But in the end, planning was all Chrysalis was honestly good for. Her brain was the only thing of value that existed within this truly pathetic shell of a body.

Futile plans and useless strategies were all she’d ever been good for, ever since she was a grub suckling upon her mother’s teat.

A massive Changeling Queen sat upon her royal throne, lording over her subjects with an unquestioned authority. She was a hulking figure whose stature matched the importance of the seat she occupied, filling it with her mammoth height and potent body weight.

Years later, Chrysalis would inherit this very same throne, though she would never approach the same size or authority as the beast who ruled from it during her youth.

This was her mother, though she was the mother of all the Changelings in this hive.

It had been a couple years since Chrysalis hatched, yet she still sat upon her mother’s royal lap, watching in utter adoration as she held court. She was the only member of her immediate siblings who still occupied this spot, though this wasn’t due to prestige or favouritism.

In fact, it was the opposite.

Chrysalis was born a runt.

Her siblings had grown but she had not.

Her brothers had become big and strong, fielding the armies of their queen. She had seen some of them earlier, parading their captives through the darkened halls of the hive. Some of them had noticed her, most glancing at her with pity, some with scorn, and others with an amusement that felt far worse than either of the prior emotions.

Her sisters had also grown, becoming the drones that kept the hive afloat, or even a few joining the ranks of the illustrious infiltrators who snuck into Equestrian society and attempted to destabilize it.

Yet, while they all may have grown and moved one with their lives, Chrysalis had remained the same scrawny bag of bones who still needed to be coddled by her mother just to survive.

She knew the whispers of the hive, knew that if any other queen had sat upon the throne she would’ve been left to die. But they had a just queen, a queen who would not let even the feeblest and most pathetic of runts die.

As her mother held court, she reached down with one of her massive hands, resting it against her leg. She extended a single powerful finger, gently stroking at Chrysalis’ back.

To Chrysalis, this single digit was easily the size of one of her boney and thin forearms. It was like a child playing with a doll and not a mother providing affection.

Still, Chrysalis coed at this, ignorant of the glares she’d received at this mere touch. Love and emotions filtered through her mother’s digit, feeding her with a dosage of love so powerful that any normal Changeling would’ve swelled up at it and grown into a truly powerful being.

She, however, just ate from it like a hog, suckling down her ration. Yet, no matter how much she consumed, it would not improve her stature or power. But at the very least, it kept her brain running, her mind churning.

Her brain was really the only thing she had. Where her muscles and body were frail and useless, she had a mind that was only dwarfed by the queen herself. She could compile strategies and pick up on emotional cues with more accuracy than even the greatest of the hive’s infiltrators.

And while she was a runt, while she was frail and weak, she knew that one day her mind would guarantee her this throne. One day she would lord over this hive and make all the brigand who dared whisper behind her back pay.

But that was in the future.

Now?

Now all she could do was think, plan, and feed upon her mother’s love like the parasitic and pathetic leech she was.

Years passed and Chrysalis never did lose her status as a runt. While she did eventually grow beyond the need for her mother’s constant coddling, she would never join the ranks of the common Changelings. She would never be strong enough for physical work, nor would she be risked in the field as an infiltrator.

It turned out that the coddling and additional time spent with her mother had given Chrysalis a certain favouritism and trust that no other Changeling had access to.

As her mother’s favourite, she was given a position running the hive’s intelligence agency, in charge of the swarm of infiltrators she would never get to join. Those same infiltrators who would murmur such hostile resentment behind her back, in places they assumed were safe from her ears.

This was their mistake.

Chrysalis knew the importance of information, how important having a constant state of surveillance was to the success of her operations. After all, no plan took off in the dark, abandoned by intelligence and sound judgement.

This was something which Chrysalis found even more important in the last few months. The queen was ill, sickly, nearing the end of her multiple decades reign. She was by no means old, by the standards of a Changeling Monarch, but her health had rapidly and mysteriously waned.

Of course, Chrysalis, as head of intelligence might’ve known a thing or two about this sudden onset but she would not confide this information to a single soul. What she did care about were the murmurs of succession, wondering which of the queen’s many children would win the battle of succession.

Would it be a leading general, an esteemed spy, or maybe a member of the class of drone whose power had only grown in recent years as the hive continued to thrive?

Names were thrown around with reckless abandon but few seemed to be considering her.

This was a grievous, though not unexpected, wound to Chrysalis’ pride.

No one ever considered the runt, the feeble born. She may have grown into a beautiful Changeling; tall, slender, and curvy in all the right places. Yet, the conditions of her birth still haunted her to this day.

Someone knocked at her office’s door and she looked up, grimacing before forcing a tense smile.

“Come in!” she called.

The door opened and one of her subordinates entered. She couldn’t recall the Changeling’s name for the life of her. Though she rarely cared about such things unless they could be used to her advantage. Names were important for brownnosing, not for addressing those already below her.

“Miss Chrysalis,” the changeling barked, saluting.

“At ease,” Chrysalis murmured.

At least the nice thing about being in a position of authority is that those under you had to pretend to respect you. At least, to your face. If only that respect could be so easily extended to more than just a single sliver of this hive’s society.

Chrysalis waited for the Changeling to start talking but she didn’t, instead staring at her intently.

Then it dawned on Chrysalis, this must’ve been the messenger she called for when she sent her second-in-command, Stinger, away.

“I need you to deliver a message to Chief Pincer,” she said. “Are you familiar with him?”

The messenger nodded. “He’s the pit boss in charge of eastern mines.”

That was the least of what he was. He was also the highest-ranking member of the growing labour faction that wanted to replace the queen with his pawn when she eventually passed away.

“Correct,” Chrysalis said, glancing at the Changeling and offering a coy smile “And can you be discrete?”

The messenger nodded.

“Excellent! Then I need you to deliver this as a message from a friend, not a message from the head of intelligence, do you understand?” she asked, scribbling away upon a piece of parchment.

The Changeling nodded again.

“Very good.” She kept her expression level, holding out the note after folding it once. “I need you to tell him that Baroness Arista is attempting to recruit support from the unionists of the western coal mines. This information should be of importance to him.”

The messenger looked quite nervous. Though she had every right to be, considering that the nature of this message would cause quite the fuss between the two rival pit bosses.

“Is there a problem?” Chrysalis asked.

For a second, she thought this grub would question her decision but she turned out to be obedient, merely dipping her head in submission and taking the note that would likely result in plenty of blood being shed in the coming days.

“No, ma’am,” she whispered.

Chrysalis smirked. “Once you’ve completed your task, please report to Captain Scutum. I’m sure there will be plenty of work to get done in the coming days.”

The messenger nodded, saluted, and made her way for the exit, leaving Chrysalis alone once again.

A small smile graced her lips, now that she could betray it without fear of anyone seeing it. It was a satisfied smile, one which revealed that the game was going exactly how she wanted it.

Maybe no one was talking about her at the moment but she would be sure to change that with one act of sabotage at a time.

And as the bodies started to hit the floor and pile high, she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to be the first name offered up upon every pair of lips when the succession question finally grew pertinent. The only question was, how many bodies would it take?

The transition of Changeling Monarchs was rarely a peaceful event, though it was often fought on the battlefield of courtroom politics and back alley murders. Deals were made, alliances formed, and blocks began to take shape behind the few strongest candidates.

This transition was different.

Chrysalis knew it was going to be different when the news of the day crawled through her web of grapevines, flittering forth on half-true rumours.

Major Carapace was dead, stabbed by an unruly petty officer and gutted like the runt of the litter.

Almost immediately after this news broke, there were more rumours and stories of deadly brawls breaking out between the various mining camps that littered the hive. And all the while, the petty nobility stayed in their palace, coddling a Queen who was now comatose and barely clinging onto life.

The military was leaderless, the common folk turned to violent and destructive rabble, and the nobility was neutered.

There was only one branch of the hive which still retained any semblance of order and control.

The Intelligence Agency.

As Chrysalis stepped into her control room, she saw drones and troopers milling about, looking over maps and sheets full of figures. The air was heavy with chaos, tension seeming to dominate the composure of her usually cool collective of infiltrators and troopers.

No one seemed to notice her as she stepped through the crowd, allowing herself a small smile.

No one ever seemed to notice her, or stop her for orders or advice. Even as the head of her agency, she was still ignored, still that runt who had been looked down upon by hundreds of her siblings.

Though that wouldn’t be the reality for long as piece after piece of her grand performance fell into place.

She loudly cleared her throat, and all at once, everyone wheeled around and faced her.

There was fear in their eyes, a desire for safety, for stability. It was a toxic sensation, putrid and disgusting. Yet, to her, it was the most useful emotion of all. These were Changelings who just wanted things to return to normal, to stability and peace. And those kinds of Changelings were always the easiest to mold.

“What’s the situation?” Chrysalis asked, her smile fading as she took on her intended roll in this performance.

An officer glided towards her, offering up his clipboard. “To put it bluntly, Major Chrysalis, the hive is in a state of utter chaos. The palace is cut off from all lines of communication, the military is leaderless and has broken into bickering and violent factions, and the mines are all brawling each other. Reports are stating that we already have a death toll in the dozens and it’s only expected to get worse as the situation develops.”

Chrysalis nodded and pursed her lips, making a show of glancing at the clipboard which likely retold this in far more words.

“And how is the Office of Intelligence?” she asked, knowing the answer already.

The officer motioned around the room. “Alarmed but mostly intact. We’re lucky that you didn’t get taken out, Ma’am.”

Luck had nothing to do with it but Chrysalis played mum.

Instead, she observed the room, looking at the assembled faces and drawing out the moment. She could feel their fear, the emotion more satisfying than any tantalizing dollop of love. They were looking to her, the runt, the feeble-born, the grub who should’ve died. They were looking to her to be their salvation in this trying time.

Chrysalis allowed herself a small, instinctive smile before loudly clearing her throat. “What’s the situation with the rival factions in the military?”

“Captain Flutterwhisp, Lieutenant Rockhide, and Captain Wasp have split the armed forces into three factions. They are stationed around the hive and setting up rival juntas but are being kept away from the palace by the royal guard and loyalist forces. The only thing that’s stopping a concentrated push is the fact that the first faction that attempts this would likely have the other two form an alliance against them,” the officer explained.

Chrysalis nodded, marking down that Rockhide had done as instructed. He was one of her few legitimate friends in this hive and would make a fine head of the military when she took the throne.

“I want you to put our security battalions at the disposal of Rockhide,” Chrysalis instructed, handing him back the clipboard. “He’s the only one of that batch that I trust not to send this hive into complete and utter chaos.”

The officer looked noticeably uncomfortable at the request. “Ma’am, that’d be… you’d essentially be declaring open rebellion against the crown.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Chrysalis said, “but Our Queen is comatose, the palace is besieged, and the hive is in utter chaos. Her Majesty requires a strong regency council to ensure that the hive doesn’t tear itself apart until she recovers.”

Not that she would.

“And I believe that me and Rockhide would make for a sturdy backbone for this council,” she continued.

For a moment she thought the officer would deny her request. However, he simply nodded his head and moved over to a group of runners, being a good little subordinate and relaying her commands. Each of the drones nodded in turn, loyally obeying the chain of command, without question, and flying off to carrying on her directives.

This was the nice thing about Changelings. They were loyal, content, and most lacked any sense of ambition. They were the perfect weapon to be used by someone like herself.

And as the war room returned to its background state of duress, Chrysalis moved towards her desk. As she sat down, pretending to work on a situation that was completely of her own making, she started to wonder.

She wondered how the title Lady Protector would sound? How the throne would feel when the husk occupying it finally withered away? How grand it’d be when the Changelings who had mocked and ignored her, finally bowed at her hooves?

It was hard to be patient when such grandeur awaited.

But in the end, it wouldn’t be long until she found out.

“Lady Protector,” a voice called out, stirring Chrysalis as she scribbled away at her desk.

As she looked up, she saw that one of the Queen’s handmaiden had entered. She looked crestfallen, defeated, broken-hearted, and hopeless.

It was a collage of misery which revealed all she needed to know. That pained mosaic told her that the Queen had finally passed, leaving her mighty throne vacant.

It was an utterly devastating pain that Chrysalis only felt the opposite of as she realized that her moment of triumphant had finally arrived.

“What is it?” Chrysalis asked, playing her role.

“She… The Queen…” The Changeling sighed. “It has happened.”

Chrysalis paused for a moment and nodded solemnly, placing her quill back in its inkwell. “I see.”

She got up from behind her desk and made her way towards this handmaiden. She was so young and so pretty, yet even with her youthfulness she still stood a head over the supposedly fully grown Chrysalis.

A fact which Chrysalis tried not to let get to her.

“Major Rockhide would like to have a word with you,” the maiden said. “He rushed to the palace upon hearing the news.”

Chrysalis motioned for her to lead the way and followed her out of the office and into one of the palace’s antechambers. A Changeling officer waited for her, saluting as she approached. It was a nice gesture, one which made her feel respected in a manner that had been lacking for most of her life.

“Major Rockhide,” Chrysalis greeted.

“Lady Protector,” he responded. “I must admit that I am quite saddened to hear the news.”

Chrysalis motioned towards the door, dismissing the handmaiden as she nodded towards Rockhide. “Yes, I was quite distraught to hear about…” The girl swiftly slipped out of the room, leaving the duo in privacy. This allowed Chrysalis to drop her mask and offer a beaming smile. “Well…”

Rockhide chuckled. “We did it.”

“Yes, and I really must compliment you on how you managed to shatter the army in such a masterful fashion,” Chrysalis said.

Rockhide shrugged. “What can I say? When you’re in a den of shapeshifters, it becomes very difficult to figure out who the assassin is.”

“And your choice of weapon was a nice touch,” Chrysalis said. “Gutting him with his own sabre? Feels like something they’d write about in a play.”

“Well if we were Equestrians, sure. But we’re actually a species that needs to work for a living.” He shook his head. “So…”

“So,” Chrysalis replied.

“Once the mourning period has ended, I’ll make sure to announce my support for your candidacy for the Queenship,” Rockhide stated. “With the pit bosses effectively gutted and any rival claimants under my guard, I’m sure that no one will really have a strong case against you.”

Chrysalis smirked and motioned towards him. “And once I seize the throne, I’ll be sure to support all your plans for military grandeur.” She chuckled and flicked her wrist towards a grand map which hung on the antechamber’s wall. “Where would you like to have your military governorship, Major?”

The map was that of the continent, a gift from Equestria during one of their few bouts of peaceful relations with this hive. It had been a prized possession of the Queen, who had prided herself as a peacemaker. One of her many faulty characteristics.

Major Rockhide hummed and pursed his lips, mulling over the finer details of political boundaries and population centres. “How about a nice little fiefdom that stretches from Canterlot to Manehattan?”

Chrysalis snorted. “Are you looking for critique on that position or…”

“Those are my terms,” Rockhide simply stated, “You want to become Queen and that is the cost of such ambitions.”

Chrysalis nodded. “Then I will gladly accept your terms as long as you continue to swear your fealty to...”

“The hive,” Rockhide finished. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He chuckled, his note sounding so harsh to Chrysalis’ sensitive ears. “What a day? Who would’ve thought that the runt of our liter would become Queen?”

Chrysalis gritted her teeth, though tried not to show it, instead forcing a very strained smile upon her lips. There were few Changelings who she’d allow to get away with this kind of disrespectful attitude, especially once she took the throne. But if there was anybody, she needed in these trying times, it was Rockhide.

Though she was sure that such a formality would change in due time.

“These are interesting times,” she said. “And I believe we work well together when things get interesting.”

Rockhide nodded. “If I had a glass, I would say something along the lines of… here’s to our fruitful partnership.”

Chrysalis’ smile turned a degree more genuine, that little nagging comment slipping into the back of her mind. At least for now.

She made a show of holding up a glass that wasn’t there. “Then here’s to our fruitful partnership.”

And well the story from that point on isn’t one that really needs to get retold. Chrysalis took the throne in a total upset, much to the chagrin of pretty much every segment of Changeling society.

Her reign was marked by a stark contrast to her predecessor, where peace and level-headedness had once ruled there was now a cruel and iron-clad fist that hovered over the hive.

Chrysalis had not been kind to her rivals, remembering many grudges and allowing them to spill over into her purges and political appointments.

Though as Chrysalis reigned, she soon learned that she would never quite match the grandeur of her predecessor. She was still a runt, never growing enough to fill the massive throne she occupied, even as a monarch. She would forever look like an infant trying to occupy an adult’s seat at the table.

No matter how far her tendrils coiled around the hive, no matter how deep her influence seemed to soak into the very bedrock of Changeling society, there was no shaking that inferiority. There was no shaking her meagre stature or the fact that this led to smaller clutches of eggs and thus crippled and weakened her hive going forwards.

She of course maintained her promise to Rockhide, attempting to wield her hive like a sabre to shatter Equestria. And twice she nearly achieved this goal, almost breaking the damned alicorns over her knee and making them grovel.

But how had that turned out for her in the end?

She laughed as she looked down at her ragged appearance, at her tattered and unwashed clothes. She was alone, abandoned, like she should’ve been from birth.

Her dreams were shattered, ruined, her hive now in the hands of that grand traitor, Thorax, at least until he could find himself a Queen.

What was honestly the point of persisting, of carrying on this fight? If she were not such a coward, she would’ve thrown herself at a Timberwolf and allowed it the privilege of tearing her body to shreds. Though she doubted her frame would offer more than an appetizer to such a ghastly beast.

She stumbled through the forest, in a daze, with no destination of objective in mind. At this point, she didn’t even know if life or death was the more appealing conclusion to the day’s affairs.

What could she honestly do? What grand strategy could her, oh so brilliant, brain possibly think up? She was alone, without a hive, without any loyal following. She was a runt and not even a proper queen, unable to just start fresh in some new remote cave.

All she had to look forward to was survival, was persevering against the odds. And well, she’d done that for so long that she was growing quite bored of just attempting to etch out a meagre existence

She sighed and stumbled forwards, pressing through another branch. And as it parted, Chrysalis paused, seeing her first sign of civilization within this accursed forest.

There was a hut in the woods, with glowing candles licking within the windows and casting a feeble glow.

Outside a zebra mare walked around, hanging up laundry upon a clothesline. She looked far too normal for such an abnormal place. Well normal with the exception of the fact that her stature seemed to be sculpted from fine granite. Her body seemed to be formed exclusively of bulging muscles and performance enhancing steroids.

She moved gracefully as she worked, hanging up her clothing quickly before moving over to an object that stood before the hut’s door.

It was a totem of some sort, surrounded by a thin perimeter of pebbles and stones. It looked exotic, foreign, like it was from some long-forgotten land. Not surprisingly considering that its owner was from a species that Chrysalis had only heard rumours of, in the past.

The Zebra stopped as she stepped into the stone circle, touching a hand to the totem.

It suddenly glowed an eerie and mysterious green, the tendrils of magic wafting off of it and coiling around the Zebra’s forearm. It travelled through her appendage and soon coated her body in this same glow, her opened eyes glazed over and filled with a greenish light.

Chrysalis watched in awe as the Zebra seemed to grow in front of her. It wasn’t by much but she easily added a few inches in height, her powerful body even gaining a few additional muscles which fought against the unforgiving material of her leopard print gown. Which considering her strength, had likely come from an actual leopard.

After a few seconds of absorbing this cantrip, the Zebra drew her hand away and smiled. She patted the totem upon its wooden head and then stepped away, heading into her little hut. It would seem she was completely oblivious to the Changeling who was observing her from a distance.

Chrysalis allowed herself the first genuine smile she’d felt in days, the first little tendril of happiness and hope on an adventure otherwise fraught with tragedy and dismay.

At that moment, she was glad she hadn’t taken that fateful misstep into ending things. She was glad that she’d carried on with the course, even if it was just so she could witness this mere glimmer of hope.

For it would seem that fate was finally kind to Chrysalis, the little runt with a brain.

She scurried forwards, making sure to check her surroundings as she approached this mythical little artifact. There was no one else around, it would seem, only the zebra who had likely settled down for the evening.

Chrysalis grinned as she stepped into the stone circle, pleased that it wasn’t protected by some proximity spell that would fry her upon entering.

She made sure to give her surrounding one final look, confirming that there was no secretive figure waiting in the shadows to ambush her. When none appeared, she touched the totem, sucking in a breath.

The artifact did not zap her or kill her on the spot, merely tingling at her finger tips with some latent magical property. Chrysalis could feel the raw power that this device held, the raw mythical energy that was just begging to be released, like a partner on the edge of climax.

She grinned, chuckling softly as she could feel and see a wisp of green crawl up her forearm. This magical aura felt like a shot of some potent medical cocktail, making her feel both energized and stronger with every passing second.

And this wasn’t just some mere placebo effect, this was the real deal. She could see a bit more definition in her forearm, a bit more strength and power. Sure, it wouldn’t be enough to compensate for her otherwise feeble and runtish form, but it was something, a start.

At that moment, she became suddenly very aware of the fact that she was standing in the middle of an open space, just sucking up this thing’s magic. It wouldn’t do to remain here for long, lest she desired to be caught with her tattered pants down.

She drew in a breath and picked up the totem, surprised that such a potent artifact didn’t weigh all that much. Was it really only made of wood and decorative paint? That hardly felt appropriate for something so powerful and tantalizing.

No alarm sounded, no ward sprung to life to stop her, nor did the cabin door burst open and the hulking zebra rushed out to beat her to death.

So, she simply fled back into the forest, all the while feeling the totem’s power seep deep into her veins.

The magic was addictive, euphoric, and gave Chrysalis hope.

For the first time in weeks, she could feel her mind churning, producing a steady stream of strategies and ideas.

And as her mind worked and body continued to strengthen from the artifact, Chrysalis felt that glimmer of ambition once again reform within her breast. That mere wisp which drove her onwards, which kept her alive through every feeble step of her pathetic life.

She might’ve been a runt, but in the end, she would ensure that this runt would stand on top of the world and earn its respect.

Author's Note

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