Equestria’s Changeling Princesses and the Kinsbane

by vren55


Chapter 17: The Death of a Queen

Thera winced as Ragnar fired a beam at her, forcing her to dive, and buzz backward. She knew she wasn’t an amazing fighter, and Ragnar’s assault was vicious.

The enemy queen kept firing beam after beam at her, forcing the older queen to weave and shield herself with pink magic. All the while, Thera watched, waiting for her opportunity.

The moment came when Ragnar paused, probably taking a breath from all her spellcasting. That was when Thera threw her hammer, her magic still surrounding the spinning weapon. It’s spiked handle scraped off the hastily raised shield, followed shortly by the flat head smashing into the magic barrier, throwing Ragnar back.

At the same time, the white changeling guards that had been trailing the fight, suddenly pounced, slamming weapons on Ragnar’s shield furiously, causing cracks to form. The queen managed to dive, trading height for speed, and escape the attack, but now Thera was hovering far above her, the hammer having returned to her side.

“Coward!” Ragnar hissed.

“I would prefer wise. And I am not the one who tried to kill children,” Thera said. She took a deep breath and fired a beam that Ragnar dodged.

Chamelia, how close are you? Thera asked through the link.

We are almost there! Hold on!

Thera winced as her guards rushed Ragnar, only to be engulfed in a fireball that sent one spiralling down. The rest managed to dodge the worst of it. Hurry, please.

Across the battlefield, Sarar growled as she swatted another changeling with dark blue eyes out of the sky. It was looking too perilously close to call. Most of the changelings in the fort had been hit by the gas, whatever it was, and were huddled as close as they can to whatever cover they could find. 

Others were ducking from cover to cover, mostly behind tree stumps from the cleared area, and boulders, as they advanced on the treeline.

Diving onto the ground in order to dodge the numerous arrows and spells thrown at her, Sarar raised a shield in front of herself, visualizing a kite shield.

“Forward! Follow me!” Sarar roared, trotting forward, widening her shield as squads of changelings formed up behind her. The column advanced, raising magical and physical shields of their own. Others in the centre of the column returned fire when they could, but progress was slow.

“Hold! Hold on!” screamed Sarar, trembling as arrow after arrow struck her shield, every blow wavering her concentration.


Mirage was bringing up the rear and having a hell of a time as she kept her horn glowing to maintain the illusion that Chrysalis and Alternia were draped across her back. Things were made easier by the actual cloak she had brought and attached to half-filled sandbags. She thus needed to only partially overlay an illusion.

The issue was that it kept her dodging. Celestia had taught her how to cast spells in parallel, but there was in practice, and then there was in reality. Trying to run, dodge, and maintain an illusion whilst desperately keeping an eye on her sister ahead of her was doing nothing for her concentration.

“Kyria!” screamed Mirage as one of the pursuing queen’s spells slammed into the tree trunk ahead of her, cutting it, and causing it to topple in front of her.

Her little sister stopped buzzing, dropping to the ground, and using both wings and hooves to twist herself out of the way. Mirage, who was farther back, had more time to adjust her course, and the tree thudded with a shower of leaves.

We wanted to lure her to Chamelia’s army, but, I don’t know where we’re heading to now! Thought Kyria.

Mirage honestly wasn’t sure either, but she had to stay calm. Her sister was already panicked enough and she could see tears flying off the edge of her eyelashes.

Grandmother! Can you tell if we are headed to y- A scream was torn from the older princess’s mouth mid-pant as a spell slammed into the shield she had borrowed from Facere. Held by magic, the kite shield held, but it sent a spike of pain into her mind.

Far away, the furiously buzzing Chamelia swallowed at the fear in Mirage’s mind, but to her relief, she was so close now that could feel her granddaughters getting closer.  You’re going the right way! Just go right by twenty degrees! 

Mirage yelled, “Go right a bit, Kyria!”

Kyria heard her sister and once she leapt over a fallen log, she galloped right, chancing a glance at the infiltrator.

Their pursuer had dropped the disguise over her wings and they were large, as large as a queen’s. The changeling’s lips were curled and her horn shone a bloody pink that dyed the greenery of the Everfree Forest with a sickeningly unnatural autumn-like hue.

“Give up you two, and I will make your deaths quick!”

“Only if you can catch us!” snapped Kyria, racing forward. She just needed to keep putting one hoof over the other—

Her left hoof hit the leafy ground and rolled, eyes wide, Kyria had a second to form her mouth in a, “Oh Luna—” before the rock hidden by the leaves twisted her step and she lost her balance. Tumbling, she sprawled onto the ground. She somehow managed to scramble onto her hooves, just in time to see a beam of magic heading right at her.

She didn’t need to choose really, Mirage just acted. All her focus and the power in her love reserves was directed to making the strongest shield spell she could muster. Luckily, she was closer and her beam arched across Kyria and formed into a wall that the infiltrator’s beam splashed against in futility.

But as she did so, the illusions of Chrysalis and Alternia clinging to her back faded and nothing was left but cloaks wrapped around sandbags.

The unknown queen, horn still glowing, stared at Mirage for a moment. It was as if she just didn’t get what was happening in front of her. 

“Oh… cunning. Very cunning indeed. If it were anybody else, I would almost be impressed, but you’ve wasted enough of my time.” The infiltrator hissed and turned around, flying back to the hive. “You are next after I deal with—” 

A purple beam of Kyria’s magic flew past the enemy queen, making her pull up short and glare at the younger queen.

Mirage, Kyria! We’re at the battlefield! Just keep running!

Kyria took a deep breath, and dropped the illusion spell showing “Belladonna” and “Simulacris.” Grandma. We’ve been found out. There’s no running for us.

Mirage glanced at Kyria and the two sisters knew exactly what the other was thinking. In that moment, Mirage couldn’t be more proud and scared for her sister, and so she trotted up next to Kyria, her cutlass drawn and levelled at the queen.

For mom. Both thought at the same time, their horns glowing.


Chamelia wanted to scream at Mirage and Kyria to run, but the sheer determination she felt from them sent a freezing tingle of pride up the nape of her neck.

And she had a battle to run.

“First Battalion engage at will! Second Battalion you’re on reserve! Engage when Third Battalion arrives!” she ordered.

And as for herself, despite her hooves feeling like pins and needles were stabbing into them, despite sweat running down her carapace and a dry, sour taste in her mouth, Chamelia hefted her axe and galloped forward with the rest of her troops.

She could spy Thera fighting Ragnar, the pair wheeling and diving through the sky with their respective escorts exchanging blows as well as spellfire and arrows. Thera herself was dancing gracefully in the air like a particularly composed mosquito, dodging Ragnar’s attempts to swat her out with serene calm. Once in a while, the white queen would swing her hammer at Ragnar.

The fort was below them, white misty gas from whatever they had thrown at them still spiralling into the air. It was mostly evacuated of changelings now, the rest were duelling in the skies, whilst some on the ground waited, or hid under cover to exchange fire.

And there was Sarar advancing across the more clear area toward the treeline, a shield up, but she was being checked by the sheer volume of arrows and spells flying from the treeline.

Chamelia took a deep breath. This was going to take some love, but Sarar needed an opening. Focusing on the distance, she muttered under her breath the words to the spell, her horn glowing as she gathered her magic.

Sarar, I am giving you your chance. Do not waste it. She sent to her friend

The air in front of the treeline shimmered and shone with green magic as Chamelia’s illusion spell took effect. It was a massive spell, a mist of magic that essentially warped and blurred the sight of those changelings hidden under the trees.

Leaving those in the clearing free to advance as the spell and arrowfire suddenly ceased.

Sarar leapt forward, mace pointed ahead, galloping, despite panting heavily, exhausted from her earlier attempts to advance. But her column was charging now, giving a ragged cheer, whilst Chamelia’s First Battalion trotted in to provide covering fire for them against Ragnar’s changelings in the sky.

Sarar barely noticed, so focus on closing onto the treeline that she burst through the shimmering mist and smashed the first alien changeling-like form she saw the outline to. 

The changeling went flying, it’s spine crumpled like wet paper from the blow. Sarar continued to wade into the fray, hitting out against her opponents who fled from her merciless hammering.

She only paused when she realized some of the changelings she was hitting at were white, with pink eyes. Most were still coal-black with blue eyes like Ragnar’s, but there were quite a few who were white with pink eyes.

Thera? I am fighting changelings with white carapaces and pink eyes! A lot of them!

Chamelia blinked, and the surprise and sheer tiredness from her march made her stop mid-step for a moment. That’s impossible. Only Thera’s changelings are white-colored! Thought the queen, but she could see the changelings too as they streamed away from her arriving forces in retreat.

I know Thera’s the only white-colored changeling queen alive, but there are white colored changelings attacking us! Sent back Sarar.

High in the air, Thera took in the conversation with growing confusion. She had brought no other changelings other than the ones with her and there were no other changelings with that coloration in the world other than those of her hive. Sure, she’d have a few who left for Sarar or Chamelia’s hive, but they’d been bred out. Granted, not all changelings or changeling queens were born with same coloration as their father or mother, but she’d not heard of another white queen with pink eyes. After all, she was the last alive.

And just like that, Thera knew who the infiltrator was, and that realization sent a muscle-freezing horror that fixed her in place and made her stare at Ragnar with wide pink eyes.

“You did not.”

Ragnar frowned. “What in the Great Creator do you mean?”

“Tell me you did not save her!” demanded Thera.

Ragnar blinked and for a moment, Thera felt recognition, worry, and a bit of smugness from the queen.

“I have no idea who you are talking about,” Ragnar lied.

The little hope- no, desperation that buoyed Thera’s denial collapsed and horrified rage boiled over into hot tears that soaked her eyes.

“You idiot! You Great Creator cursed idiot! How can you be so STUPID! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”


Kyria and Mirage had hoped not to fight the infiltrator, whoever she was, but they had talked about what they might do if they did. So they immediately knew what to do.

Mirage took point, her kite shield up, her magic focused on it, whilst Kyria muttered under her breath as her horn glowed. Their goal was to survive, and while Mirage knew more damaging spells, they would be useless if their defense was overwhelmed.

Besides, Luna in particular had taught Kyria one or two spells that might prove useful in this situation.

The infiltrator responded by slamming beam after beam into Mirage’s upraised shield. Each blow fell like one of the steam-driven factory hammers that pounded on hardened steel, and they made Mirage grunt as she was physically forced back, her hooves digging ruts in the ground.

Kyria finished the last sequence in her spell and levelled her horn at the infiltrator. She could feel the magic draining on her love reserves, a gnawing, hungry feeling filled her stomach, as she sent three beams of shining purple at the infiltrator.

The infiltrator raised a shield, but instead of hitting her, one beam hit the ground and turned it into mud. The other slammed down not from below, but from above driving the infiltrator knee deep into the mud.

The final spell hit the mud, transmogrifying it into concrete, sealing the infiltrator where she stood.

A woozy feeling took over Kyria, who staggered, but Mirage had anticipated this and charged her own horn with a lightning spell. She unleashed it at the infiltrator who blocked with a conjured shield. The enemy queen attempted to free herself, but the older princess refused to let up the pressure and flames leapt from Mirage’s horn engulfing the enemy. Somehow, the disguised queen held her shield, but she was now busily trying to expand her shield to overpower the flames.

Kyria was panting, trying to recover from her spellcasting, so Mirage knew it was up to her to keep the pressure.

That was when the queen did something unexpected. Clearly biting her lip, one eye shut in concentration, the queen muttered words under her breath, and a portal opened.

But not under the queen, above her.


Moments ago…
Ragnar dodged Thera’s enraged beams of magic. Somehow the realization had caused the white queen to get a second wind, and to completely change her strategy. Instead of dodging and weaving, Thera was pouring spell after deadly spell at Ragnar. The young queen was panicking, and her heart pounded as Chamelia herself neared.

The battle is lost mother! Chamelia has arrived with reinforcements! What should we do?

Retreat! We need to go!

Ragnar nodded and sent a mental message to her army to run for their lives. Her changelings needed no second order, they ran, buzzing as fast as they could. But she didn’t, she needed to know where her mother was.

Retreat called! Where are you!

Those two cursed sister queens lured me away from Chamelia’s spawn and refuse to let me disengage!

Ragnar cursed. I’m on my way! Help me fix your location!

Ragnar, run! Ordered her mother.

The blue-eyed queen shook her head as she now turned around and fled from Thera, who was screaming something incoherent at her. She knew why, but she wasn’t going to spare her attention from dodging.

Chamelia and the others will be with you shortly! Let me help! We can overwhelm those two unascended queens quickly!

Alright. Thank you, my daughter.

Thera howled in fury as Ragnar—still zig-zagging—opened a portal in front of her and dived in. The white queen pulled up short, looking furiously around for her quarry, her eyes wide and wild.

“Thera! Calm down! She’s fled!” exclaimed Chamelia.

“You don’t understand! I know who she’s working with! Kyria was right! It was a changeling we thought was dead!”

“Who Thera? Which changeling queen is still alive?” demanded Chamelia.

Thera shook as Chamelia touched her shoulder, her eyes still filled with tears, and said a single name.

And when she spoke that single word, Zagara’s daughter knew why her cousin had been so enraged.

Present…

Mirage had been trying to break the still-disguised queen’s shield, but that goal flew out of her mind as the portal opened and Ragnar flew out, diving at the sisters.

“Shit!” yelled Mirage, tackling her sister. They were still knocked flying as Ragnar, surrounded in blue magic, rammed into the ground, sending a shockwave that bowled them over. 

Kyria staggered to her hooves and in a single look, took in Ragnar, advancing on them, and the unknown queen, now trying to free herself from the concrete. Her mind was running a mile a minute, but everything seemed to move slowly for her. 

Kyria knew she had nothing left that could affect the course of the battle. Running a constant illusion and then the three spell combination had taken a significant amount of the love she had, particularly the transmogrification spell. If she was a better spellcaster, she would have needed less energy, but she wasn’t. Her stomach now screamed in hunger and her sister…

The younger princess turned to Mirage, who was on her hooves. Yet, although she could feel her sister’s courage, and iron-willed determination, she could also feel Mirage’s despair. 

“Mirage! Use your gun! Forget the timeline! We don’t have a choice!” she screamed, no—she ordered, with authority and a knowingness that she was not going to regret her choice. 

Mirage’s slightly shockwave-addled mind processed the command in what seemed like an age, but must have been just a second. Then, realizing it was a command, she drew her service revolver from her peytral and cocked it.

The quiet click meant nothing to Ragnar, who saw the younger queen say something about the timeline, and the older queen pull out some strange metal object. She frowned and braced herself to shield, but from the exhaustion on the dirt-ridden faces of both queens, she doubted they were going to be able to do anything.

 Unfortunately for Ragnar, Mirage’s Wingcolt was anything but harmless. It was Equestria’s standard issue service arm for actively serving officers that expected to see combat in the field. The weapon had an eight round magazine, and used circular clips for loading. Mirage knew that the rounds it fired (.45 calibre) could be heavy enough to pierce shield spells, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

She looked down the sights, and pulled the trigger twice. 

The first round missed, whizzing right past Ragnar’s head into the forest. Mirage was dizzy from being thrown, and hadn’t had the opportunity to practice her marksmanship. The second slammed into the edge of Ragnar’s hurriedly raised shield, but a myriad web of cracks burst across its surface. The princess could just see shock flickering across Ragnar’s features before she fired again, twice.

The third bullet shattered the flaring shield, but it was deflected off course and grazed Ragnar’s shoulder. By this point, the queen was charging at her, her horn glowing for a spell.

So Mirage made sure she didn’t miss, and the fourth—aimed at the queen’s centre mass—slammed into Ragnar’s chest.

The blue-haired queen screamed, and fell to the ground, her legs barely arresting her forward momentum. She had to be in unimaginable pain, but the queen’s wings buzzed furiously, trying to lift herself up.

So, Mirage didn’t stop firing. Ragnar could overpower her. Ragnar had tried to kill her aunts. Ragnar had tried to kill her mother, and Ragnar was trying to kill her and her sister.

The fifth bullet pounded into the queen’s chest again, the round smashing the carapace in its way as it ploughed through. Ragnar’s wings froze in what Mirage knew was horrifying agony, and she collapsed to the ground, moaning pathetically.

And for a moment, Mirage wondered if she could spare Ragnar, she had tried to kill her mother and her aunts. She knew the queen was dying, but perhaps she could be saved.

“NO! NO! RAGNAR!” screamed the infiltrator. 

Mirage turned to the frozen infiltrator and was about to fire the rest of her shots at her, but pink flames, the color of security flamingoes, if their blood was smeared all over their feathers, had engulfed the queen. It shattered the concrete, sending shrapnel flying.

A horrified Mirage fired, emptying the chamber, but the three remaining bullets exploded on contact with the flames with three screeching hisses. Practiced motions led her to empty the chamber, but as she fumbled for more ammo, a white-hot beam of fuschia magic seized her gun and crushed it, the hardened steel squished into a ball, as if it was paper.

And with a snap, the fires dissipated, revealing a site that would give both sisters nightmares for the nights to come. 

The figure, or thing only loosely resembled a changeling queen. But neither Kyria or Mirage could quite believe it was. She was twisted, discolored. Not black, but sickly white with flecks of greens and blues that dotted her body. She was missing her foreleg, her horn was snapped off at the midpoint. One wing was torn half off. All of her remaining legs were crooked, with some of the hoof-holes forming jagged crag-like shapes.

But what made the sisters want to empty their breakfast on the forest floor was the pink eyes. The pink-eyed glare that fixed them was filled with such contempt, with such hatred that all the courage and determination they had just evaporated. 

Kyria began to crawl back, whilst Mirage managed a second longer with her shield raised, before she galloped toward her sister. 

But the queen’s eyes were completely fixed on Ragnar. Already, pink magic was pouring into the dying blue-manes queen. 

Exhausted, the sisters could only stare. They knew either could attack, but their instincts were screaming at them to run. So they hesitated.

“Ragnar! Stay with me! Don’t close your eyes!” begged the queen.

“Mom… I’m… sorry.”

The queen nuzzled her, her eyes filling with tears. “Don’t be. You’re… you’re going to be fine.”

“Atracina… I… love-” Ragnar’s eyes shut and her muscles slowly relaxed, as if she was falling asleep.

Atracina? Did she just say, Atracina? Thought Mirage, helping Kyria up, eyes wide. 

Kyria nodded, all attention on the mental link, desperately sending a message to her grandmother, Sarar and Thera. Hopefully they would get here before it was too late.

Grandma, Ragnar’s dead, but the Kinsbane, Atracina, is the infiltrator. She’s going to kill us if you don’t get here!

Atracina was standing up and was glaring at the sisters. The air crackled as pink sparks blinked and popped around her. Her horn was gleaming with sorcery and her moist eyes were fixed on the princesses.

“You killed her. How could you!” 

“Kyria, run!” screamed Mirage throwing up Facere’s shield.