That night I learned how changelings defecate.
To be specific, I learned that they don’t. Instead, they regurgitate a sort of slime. Big Bug Mom gathered the waste and threw it into one of the empty pots.
”The changeling digestive system,” Chrysalis began, ”rids itself of the waste from processing love by congealing it into a thick mucus, then rids itself of the slime. We use this slime in a myriad of ways; from construction to being the basic component of a self-repairing salve, the changeling gel is our most abundant material.”
That would explain the warped-looking walls, columns, and ceilings; they are made of bug slime. Considering concrete is one of the most consumed resources in human society, I find it hilarious, disgusting, and most of all impressive that the one of the most used resources in changeling society is bug vomit.
Changeling anatomy lessons with Chrysalis continued into the night. She told me we could change our form at will, using magic inherent to changelings themselves. No other species had such an innate master over shapeshifting.
That’s another thing. Magic. It was very real, and it was how Chrysalis, Psocid, and Lethocerus could levitate objects. It also unsurprisingly had countless other uses: from popping popcorn to transmutation of elements.
‘I wonder if this means it is possible to split atoms using magic...’
That wrapped up the impromptu nightly lessons from bug mom. She told me to get used to the study, as it would be my room until one of the spare rooms could be prepared for me. The other larva of my generation had to sleep in a pile on the floor of a cavern while I got a room to myself.
I could get used to this.
With Prince Phasma asleep on the couch of the study, Queen Chrysalis made her way to her bedroom. Tomorrow, before the Prince awoke in the afternoon, she would check the archives. For now, she retired to her chambers. The bleak changeling-gel walls stood in stark contrast to the room’s contents.
They were the pinnacle of luxury in the changeling hive: an actual bed, complete with two pillows, a few blankets, and a mattress. She had to hand it to the ponies, they know how to live comfortably.
There were also three wooden chairs around a low table. A chess was set on the table, though Chrysalis never played. No windows, she would not tolerate such a security risk in her own personal wing, just as her predecessors never did. The pony Princesses were fools to leave such vulnerabilities in their castles.
Ponies. Right.
Chrysalis trotted over to the table and picked up the Black Queen using levitation. She started to giggle, then moved on to a full-blown cackle. The thin layer of dust was quickly brushed off as the piece jiggled in her grasp.
“Centuries of-” Chrysalis looked at her door…
However no guard knocked, bringing news of supply shortages, of strange happenstances, or of the latest issue of Colt-Cloak Magazine being released. Her monologues were interrupted more often than not, and it was starting to get on her nerves.
“.... Of planning, and the Great Weaver grants me such a boon! And the fact that Prince Phasma is blessed with being such a prodigy? The signs are clear, the sun shall set upon the eternal Sun Princess!
“How many centuries have we toiled in the dark? It is finally time for our place in the sun; Prince Phasmatodea shall deliver the final blow to the oh so glorious E.U.P., and city by city, Equestria will fall! My most loyal son, you shall be the key to delivering me Celestia’s head on a silver platter. Together, we will bring in a new era for our kind.
“No more hiding in the shadows! No more food shortages! No more suffering! Well, for my changelings, that is. Dear Celestia and her little ponies shall wish they were granted the mercy of death. Soon she will feel that her nightmares are real!
“Yes, step aside Celestia! The age of ponies has ended. The age of changelings has begun!”
Queen Chrysalis hummed quietly to herself as she headed down to the archives the next morning. Getting to the lowest layer of the hive was far easier than getting to the top spire yesterday. Without Phasma on her back, she could use her wings in the vertical shafts that formed the arteries of the hive.
Changelings moved out of her way and clung to the walls. The oncoming traffic parted as she made her way all the way down, past the dormitories, the nursery, the storage rooms, until she reached the final layer.
At the bottom of the shaft, just above the grate leading to the Underhive, there was one exit. That exit lead to one hallway, which lead to one room with one final door.
This final door was more akin to a wall that moved, it was thicker than many of the walls that made up the hive. A giant, circular vault door, twisting inwards in a spiral, converging to a circle that held a picture of a blue scorpion. Just below this central circle was two holes, equally distant from the center.
Chrysalis paid the two royal guards stationed on either side no heed as she slotted her forelegs into the circles. As her hooves pressed against the end of the recesses, tumblers slotted themselves through the holes of her legs. She turned her left leg clockwise ninety degrees, her right counterclockwise forty five, then her left counterclockwise one hundred thirty five. Finally, she turned her right leg ninety degrees. There was a loud click and the tumblers retracted.
She never got the combination wrong, not after accidentally getting it wrong once and having to sit there as the royal guards attempted to get her unstuck when the magical tumblers locked in place. The alarm blaring just added to the indignation.
The vault door started to swing outwards and Chrysalis pulled it out all the way with her magic.
“In the dark of the night, evil will find her!” She quietly sang to herself as she stepped through.
Proximity runes triggered the activation of the white light orbs on the walls, revealing the massive room. Rows of bookshelves, extending out a hundred feet and fifty feet to each side.
“In the dark of the night, terror comes true!” Chrysalis trotted to just to the side, where the index lay.
Finding the section she wanted, she pranced off to Row Fifteen, Section Three, Shelf One. There were the journals of King Mesopleuron, Queen Cantharidae, Queen Maxilla, and Queen Sphecidae. She pulled them out and brought them to the table that was in the center of the room.
Chrysalis pulled out the one chair at the table and continued to sing to herself as she read through the entries.
Outside, the royal guards glanced at each other. Despite the rigorous training they endured, ensuring they remained vigilant and reserved at all times, their stoic poise was broken.
Queen Chrysalis was singing.
Royal Guard Hydro made a quiet prayer to The Great Weaver.