"You wish," Pharynx started.
"Yes, brother. Must we go in circles?" Thorax groaned, rolling his eyes at the devilish smirk of his older brother.
"For me to attend the meetin' in your stead," Pharynx egged with a condescending tone.
"Because I promised Ocellus and her little friends that I'd.. go to their tea party," the King mumbled, accentuating his embarrassment by tapping his hooves together like a child caught taking a cookie out of the cookie jar.
"You want me to discuss trade, economy, security, the future of the Hive for you... because you promised foals you'd go to their tea party."
"Well, when you say it like that..."
"I'll do it."
"I owe you a million times over the moon, dearest brother," Thorax's smile returned sheepishly to his face, as the taunting smirk on Pharynx's face slowly melted down into his usual scowl. The elder brother waved him off with a lazy wave, rolling his pupil-less eyes.
"What are Princes for, Thorax? Am I expected to leave now?"
"Well, I usually like to talk about my big day with some of our citizens for an hour or so before I left, but you can leave right now if you'd..."
When Thorax looked over to where his brother was standing, the brother in question was gone. A whisk of air was all he left behind, alongside a few dizzy changeling gardeners attending the throne room's small garden pit that dipped off into the stair case just to the left of Thorax's throne.
"...like." He finished weakly, sighing before setting off to go entertain foals.
To get away from the diseased Hive for at least a few hours' flight was all the words you needed to tell Pharynx to go ruin his public relations with Pony ambassadors in Canterlot. That, and scare some ponies too. That never got old. That, and the damned feeling that had been tugging at him ferociously for a couple years now had also been bugging him. It seeped into his bones, his chitin, moving his mouth into that determined answer for Thorax's childish plight. An unending cacophony of annoyance bubbled into a three-word answer.
He'll do it.
He wasn't sure if he wanted to, now. It seemed as if he was being controlled. Something was controlling him. Moving him away from the Hive, coercing him to the ponies so they'd subdue him, and take over the weak bugpony Hive that he swore himself bitterly to protect. Kill him, torture him, maybe try to hold him ransom for something Pharynx's peoples hold. He doesn't want that, nor does he need that kind of history to go down in this world's book.
That, or it's his hunter's intuition. There's something out there big for him to tackle, for him to conquer and bring him to his peoples to boost them further from the clutches of Ponykind. Perhaps he'd be able to honor his ancestors in the best of ways, after all. Maybe he's just being sent to his death, a natural calling to try and fight something bigger than him, more powerful than the Elements, more cunning than Discord, more intelligent than Sombra.
Maybe something as lying as that filly.
"Anythin' to remove this annoyance," Pharynx steeled himself with a growl. His wings buzzed angrily as he thundered himself forward, causing the wind to howl in his ears. Canterlot was not too far from where he was. He was exiting the slowly rehabilitating lands of the Badlands. The scarce fauna was being replaced with forests, lakes, jungles of all shades and sizes, stretching out as far as his eyes could see. The land of the Manticore.
His tongue had managed to flick out to lick his fangs in anticipation, his fangs immediately drying in the screeching winds he was blowing through with blurring, powerful flaps of his wings. Maybe he could take a quick detour to take one of these legendary beasts as a trophy. Something to intimidate the ponies with, to let them know he wasn't some Thorax that could easily be manipulated into allowing such blaspheme into his life, or his peoples' lives. Yes... a singular claw of the manticore, and leave a little splash of fresh blood to let them know it's real, and it isn't a joke. That predatory smile stretched itself across the bloodthirsty Pharynx's face.
A true warrior can never be a politician, after all. If they were, the world would be cast into never ending war. The sky would be orange and black with the hue of fire, smoke and devastation. The world would be cast into an eternal suffering atmosphere of oppression, hatred and blood to fuel the fire of the changeling war machine. It would only bubble up to its absolute limit before being released violently into the world of the ponies. Rows of cocooned ponies, feeding the thousands; no, millions of changelings storming the gates of Canterlot, taking the Sisters down once and for all, to avenge the loss of the invasion many years ago.
Though to be honest, he never liked Chrysalis anyways. The plan was perfect in theory, but Chrysalis never had a talent with executing it properly. Back to pressing matters that thundered in his skull; he'd never usurp his brother, but Chrysalis-be-cursed he was making it so hard to not want to. It'd never happen, as Pharynx's word is always his bond, and he will forever retain his promised self-wish to preserve the security and future of the Hive.
As much as he loved the Hivemind, he'll admit with a frown that could kill a puppy's soft look instantly that the individuality aspect of each changeling would spawn those who tried to uphold the traditionalist ideals of Pharynx's peopl-.. of their peoples. Was it him, or was he starting to think more like a Thorax the closer he got to the untainted Canterlot?
Only a couple more hours to Canterlot. Yeah, he could use that detour. Something to squash this ponythinking from his head. Preferably a manticore. Specifically a manticore. Desirably a manticore. A manticore. Yes, Pharynx wanted to slay a manticore in case his thoughts weren't clear enough for you.
Landing in a large clearing, complete with the rustle of disturbed tall grass and a fwoosh of air, Pharynx was quick to survey his surroundings. To his knowledge of such a populous but legendary animal, they typically stalked like cats in the forests, always revealing themselves at their own opportune time. Hey, speaking of opportune--
Pharynx's wings buzzed, flinging his own body away as the powerful swipe of an aforementioned being's claw ran through the air with a low whistle. Angling his body to cut into the earth to slow his rapid acceleration, Pharynx cocked his head up at the beast. Scars of all shapes and sizes lined the big beast's body, complete with an eye-less socket, completely ruining any vision on its left side. Looked about as tough as the biggest of them would get, despite its slightly underwhelming size.
"Not so big as the old hunters said," Pharynx huffed, eyeing the beast up and down. It merely bristled with a snarl, resetting its position to face him, ready for anything. "Or are you what they call a runt?"
The beast's good eye had the pupil turn into a pinprick as the veins seemed to bulge out angrily. Its chest swelled with air before it gave a thundering cry, shaking the earth beneath Pharynx's hooves as he stood unimpressed. Silence reigned as Pharynx cocked an invisible brow to the manticore's show of dominance. It wasn't bad. Not bad at all. Not impressive, but not terrible. "Not bad," he nodded sagely.
A vicious concoction of green and purple smoke whisked into the air as the horrid spider-bug form of Pharynx released itself to the world, matching the same size as the manticore who only tightened its stance at the sight of Pharynx's transformation. The large, bulging arms known as chelae tittered on the ground before stabbing themselves straight into the dirt. Pharynx leaned back, sucking in air for his mighty roar, which shook the trees and scattered blades of grass. The loose grass danced in the air violently until the roar ended, of which the concert of dancing grass slowly fluttered back into the cities of fauna it came from.
"But mine's better," Pharynx boomed. The manticore charged, and the mighty form of Pharynx charged as well.
Riding a feral manticore to Canterlot was going to make a great impression on the weak ponies. How his ancestors would be so proud. The entire altercation never removed that annoying feeling that coursed through his body like a poison. However, even if he didn't show it with his stoic gaze and eternally unimpressed frown, Pharynx internally was very satisfied with his violent tango with the manticore. The fresh wound on Trachea- he named the manticore Trachea -would prove to be a fine addition to the fine beast's collection.
It was not without good sportslingship that Trachea return the favor; the newly fashioned cut that danced from the left side of Pharynx's snout, slashing across jaggedly to the other side was added not too short after Pharynx's arm tattoo on the aforementioned Trachea.
Ah, there it was. Canterlot. The City on the Mountain. The Capital of Pony Civilization. The Equine's Blessed Grounds. He could go on and on for hours about all different corners of Equestrian's denizens giving affectionate names and titles to the capital city. It wasn't very capital-like when Chrysalis almost took it for her own. Wasn't very blessed-- he takes that back, it was very blessed. That love blast still put aches in a specific spot on his chest to this day.
A good Pharynx will not desecrate the Equestrian's land. A good Pharynx will obey the new demands and customs of foreign policy of his King. A good Pharynx would never be led astray from the mission. And that's what Pharynx did, but not before leaving a good portion of Equestrian's beautiful forests in turmoil after his recent bout with his newly minted companion.
He had already seen the pegasus scout of the Royal Guard coming a couple miles away, and didn't dare slow down the beautiful flying of the manticore, and instead blew by the scout who in turn flapped his wings angrily to match the same speed as the beast. He also kept a healthy distance, shouting over the winds.
"Can I have a name?! Or where you're going?!?"
Pharynx kept his chin up like a noble would, looking over with a stiff posture at the slowly exhausting pegasus. "Prince Pharynx of the Changeling.. Kingdom. Diplomacy," the regal attitude dropped with a ferocious snarl. "If you're not here to announce me, then get out of my way."
"I'll- I'll lead you to the landing pad, milord!" The pegasus gulped, a slight pant entering his voice before he snapped his arms forward to give him a straight acceleration towards a nearest landing point closest to some council chamber Pharynx never cared about. He was also screened by two more pegasus guards, but was nonetheless allowed access through.
"Keep that manticore on a chain! Or binded, or.. something!" The third and final interfering guard said.
"I'll put you in a chain if you insult my royal companion again, maggot!" The short-tempered changeling flared. The pegasus yipped as a lazy swat of the manticore made him freeze up and immediately disappear into the winds, left behind by the speed of the manticore. Trachea slowed the flapping of his wings, taking great strides for a comfortable landing. After all, it took a warrior's conversation to have the great beast admit defeat and accept the surprising offer of Pharynx's question of becoming his companion of battle. Promises of glory and bloodshed didn't need much to be said from Pharynx. One look at the changeling and Trachea had already known the madling was a being of warfare.
"Your Hhhheee.. hhhigh... Highness, Your most gr- gracious Highness, I suggest we enter through the council chambers here to meet with the Princess and her noble council." The first guard from earlier had been flushed with exhaustion, air seeming to be more of a concern to him than addressing Pharynx. His lips curled at the hidden disrespect. That, or he was overthinking it like Thorax said he overthinked most things. It was all for security and the good of the Hive, something that Thorax would never understand. Another thing to monologue angrily to himself about.
However, the desperate coughing of the guard broke Pharynx of his inner monologue. He stared at the tired guard, before a devilish smile came to his face. "Direct me to them, then."
The guard nodded, weakly motioning towards the pony-sized wooden door to their left. "Of course, milord, now if you'd just fo- .. follow me.."
"With my companion."
The guard stopped, turning around with wild eyes, energy renewed in his body and air seemingly forgotten. "Milord? I- I wouldn't do that, sir. Th- The door doesn't even fit him!"
The smile only remained as Pharynx's horn shimmered a sickly purple. "I can make that change."
"I- I really don't think that it's a good idea, milord! Sir Pharynx, Your Highness!"
With a flash of purple and the splintering of wood and marble, the slackjawed pegasus was left gaping at an appropriately sized hole for Pharynx and his companion Trachea to traverse through. And several more crashing noises for the stairwell to accommodate for Trachea was quick to follow. Slowly, the guard took off his helmet and held it over his chest, sitting back on his haunches.
"I'm so fired."