Scarlet Changelings did not sleep the same way most other creatures did. Instead of a dreamless sleep or a harrowing nightmare, the crimson shelled bugs returned to their hive. The Scarlet Hive was a strange thing, a towering hollowed-out tree, claw-like branches stretching out as if to grasp the sky itself and decorated with lamps and lanterns that glowed with the red fires of nightmare essence. Its roots extended into winding tunnels deep far below the earth.
It existed both in the waking world and in the Nightmare Realm. The realm itself was a forest, a vast expanse of trees, dark wooden limbs in the shape of an open claw, and whenever a being slept deeply enough, a red flame would light within these branches. Every tree represented a sleeping individual and every lit flame a nightmare born of their own subconscious.
Hearth stood just outside the entrance to the hive, her chitin discoloured in places where the burns were still healing, and her wings still useless ribbons of membrane crusted with blue hemolymph. Her body in the waking world was sound asleep in Grimm’s carriage, the pair on their way to wherever it was The Troupe Master was headed before stopping to retrieve her. It had been many moons since she had last reported to the hive, the slowly worsening state of The Badlands Hive had taken up most of her time, she had gone weeks without rest, a feat doable for a Scarlet Changeling, but not without drawbacks.
Hearth had spent the last few years running on embers, on whatever scraps of nightmare essence she could get, usually from eating the nightmares of her fellow 'lings. It wasn’t ideal but changelings born of the nightmare realm weren’t as rigidly bound to the laws of nature as the other hives.
The changelings under her care had been worse off. The wounded 'ling kept all of this mind as she walked at a brisk pace. The inside of the hive was as lavishly decorated as any palace or castle. Red tapestries, banners and ribbons hung on the walls, elegantly embroidered cushions of every colour imaginable lay in piles up against the sides of the large hub of walkways and tunnels that made up the Mainway, the central hub of pathways that led to most areas of the hive.
She kept her mind closed off from the hive and walked to the largest tunnel that led deeper underground. The gaping entryway was guarded by a pair of stockier bugs as tall as a yak, wearing white heart-shaped masks and their red armour-like carapace was decorated with unique markings in white paint. One guard held out a spindly limb to stop her.
“Are you not headed to medical?” they asked, pointing to a doorway lined in white cloth to make it stand out amidst the varying shades of red.
Hearth shook her head. “We have a rogue Queen, I must present my findings to the court.”
As the guard sighed, clearly worried, their co-worker chimed in. “Let her through brother, A Kindler’s duty comes before themselves. You know that.”
“…Very well, but afterwards, go see the healers.” The guard relented and Hearth nodded.
“Of course.”
The Crimson Court was a collection of important 'lings responsible for running not only The Scarlet Hive, but The Nightmare Realm as well. The room they held their meetings was a large round stage, raised seating for onlookers to watch as the court members sat on cushions on the floor. The room mirrored the look and feel of a circus tent, walls covered in red curtains, seats filled with the occasional onlooker or young grub.
Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-dump…
Suspended near the ceiling via glowing, vein-like cables, was a red patchwork heart of red cloth, dotted with holes that glowed with a white light, like eyes, as the sound of its rhythmic beats filled the room.
Hearth took comfort in that sound, as it did every scarlet changeling as she walked into the room. The Crimson Courtroom was a place the changelings of the Scarlet Hive were free to enter, to voice their concerns.
Only one member of the court was present, an older changeling whose physical form looked more like a bee than the pony-like quadruped Hearth herself had chosen to become in the final stages of her growth. Red fuzz covered the changeling’s torso. The ‘ling’s legs tucked beneath her body as she sat on the cushion reading from a piece of parchment. The antennae atop the changeling’s head twitched as Hearth approached.
“Hello, Grand Harvester Pollenna, I bring news from The Badlands Hive.” Hearth said, respectfully dipping her head as Pollenna looked up, red eyes widening in shock at the state Hearth was in.
Pollenna set down her reading material. “Goodness, what happened?”
Hearth, though knowing full well what to say, found the words were stuck in her throat. The memories still fresh and the Kindler could feel every tattered remnant of her wings, could point out every section of still healing chitin. The goal of getting back to the hive, of surviving, had kept her mind focused, but now in the safety of her home and knowing Grimm watched over her in the waking world Hearth was at a loss.
She was quickly becoming frustrated with herself, leading to only upset her further.
The Grand Harvester got up and gently coaxed her into sitting on one of the cushions. “You’re the Badlands Kindler, aren’t you?”
She nodded.
Pollenna hummed in sympathy. “Your first hive and already dealing with a bad egg, poor dear. I’ll send a squad of Harvesters to monitor the ‘lings and inform the rest of the court,” she smiled warmly. “You did your duty little kindler.”
“I- the grubs. Everyone’s starving,” Hearth forced out. “I tried everything I could think of but I can’t love an entire hive and The Queen…She’s a monster.”
Crack.
The noise came from above, everyone looked up to see the centre of the heart had opened and a figure could be seen within.
The Nightmare King.
The tall bug, wrapped in a crimson cloak with spiked ends and a high collar, bore a striking resemblance to The Troupe Master, save for the fact that this bug’s horns were longer, and his chitin was red as opposed to Grimm’s glossy black. He appeared in the middle of the room in a flash of red smoke and turned his glowing red eyes towards Hearth.
“So, Chrysalis is starving her subjects?” he asked, and it took Hearth a moment to remember that yes, this was the same bug that had rescued her hours earlier.
His presence in the nightmare realm was daunting, a bonfire of power barely contained within his ruby shell.
Hearth nodded and The King’s maw dipped into a frown. He bowed low to the smaller bug. “Forgive me Kindler, I’ve been busy with other matters. Had I known of such cruelty, Chrysalis would have been dealt with much sooner,” he said sincerely. “I have an important meeting to attend, but once it is done. I shall see to the rogue queen myself.”
It was well known that King Grimm upheld a changeling’s freedom to express themselves and pursue their own lives alongside their chosen duties. The hive operated independently from his duties as the ruler of the Nightmare Realm, but he still took his position as Changeling King seriously. Many a tale had been told about how he dealt with threats to his subjects and though he let The Queens run their hives as they saw fit, he would not stand any ruler, any parent that would harm those under their care.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Hearth bowed as the king straightened up. She was still reeling from everything that had happened, her thoughts out of sorts and swiftly left the room as Grimm and Pollenna launched into a discussion about which Harvesters to send to send aid to The Badlands Hive.
Following the paths marked with white cloth, Hearth made her way to Medical. Her surroundings called to mind the years of her youth spent in these halls as she entered the large chamber. The lanterns that illuminated this area of the hive were lit not with red flame, but the white fires of Soul Magic. The power that was the will made manifest was present in pulsing white runes carved into the walls and floor, and stitched into the plain looking bedsheets that lined the round nests that were in neat rows on either side of the main chamber.
Even the staff, changelings that shared their ruler’s bipedal stance, dressed in white, clean cut uniforms, had glowing white eyes and delicate wings. And as soon as they spotted the injured Kindler, they herded Hearth into a nest and began checking her over, silent.
Healer 'lings were purely telepathic, their heightened cognitive abilities allowed them to search for what was wrong should a patient be unable to tell them. Hearth never had the stomach for medicine, not for lack of trying, but it took a smarter 'ling, and one with a stronger constitution than her to spend their days tending to the sick and injured. The time she had almost fainted trying to put wrappings on a fellow changeling recovering from surgery was proof enough that she wasn’t meant for the job.
She felt a mental poke at her link to the hive. Hearth carefully opened her senses to the enclosed environment of the Healer Hivemind and the healer tending to her paid her troubled emotional state no mind, sympathy bleeding through from the other ling.
The kindler stared at the wall in front of her, mind adrift, thoughts steadily becoming a calm sea of incoherent snippets as opposed to the storm of stress they had slowly been warping into. After a time, with the sterile environment soothing her frayed nerves, the healer got her attention with another mental poke.
The news was delivered in a concise, clean stream of thought.
Damage to flight membrane irreversible, recommendation: Full Metamorphosis.
Upon waking, please head to the nearest hive or colony for assistance. Until then, please remain here.
Hearth nodded and the healer left to attend to other patients. She curled up in the next, the bedding soft against her chitin.
Metamorphosis huh? She mused. …What would I even be?
She was certain that after dealing with The Badlands Hive, she had no desire to remain a Kindler. As much as she loved the job, she had been subject to far too much in the last day or so to agree to a new posting at another hive or colony. Though the colonies were smaller, they still required a Kindler to advise them.
And Kindlers were but one type of Scarlet Changeling. With the prospect of finding a new purpose for herself, Hearth began to ponder over the other roles she could eventually claim for herself.
She dismissed the thought of becoming a Knight, as strong as the warriors of the hive were, fighting off night terrors and the more dangerous, wild aspects of the realm never appealed to her to begin with.
She knew she’d never have the will to be a Healer either.
Her thoughts drifted to her ruler. She had no idea if he had simply been passing through when he found her, or if he had sensed her out in the barren wastes and come to collect her himself. It had been centuries since a Kindler had been in her position, and tales of The King swooping in to save abandoned or mistreated 'lings was a common tale passed around in both written and spoken form.
It had also been centuries since a 'ling had taken the mantle of Mothling, the personal servant of The Nightmare King, not since Pyre the Fearless had sacrificed themselves to allow Grimm to flee The Crystal Empire.
As the room around her became hazy and her mind drifting away from the depths of sleep, Hearth resolved to ask Grimm about it when she woke up.
Hearth awoke with a start as the carriage hit a bump in the road, jostling its passengers. She felt Grimm steady her with a hand and looked up to find the black and red being watching her curiously. She had fallen asleep in his lap some time ago, daylight peaked through the edges of the curtains drawn shut over the windows.
“Greetings friend,” he said with a smile. “And what do the healers make of your situation?”
“I need to undergo a full metamorphosis,” she replied. “My wings are too damaged. Where are we headed?”
“I am headed to Canterlot to speak to Equestria’s ruler,” Grimm explained. “Princess Celestia has summoned me to her kingdom to meet her niece, a monumental occasion to be certain.”
His gaze focused on Hearth’s shredded wings. “…If you wish, I can request a room for us and stay for a time, long enough to ensure your recovery. You may do as you like afterwards,” he looked back at her, curious, and Hearth was caught off guard by his next question. “Have you given any thought to what you wish to be?”
She stumbled over words. “Y-yeah, for the most part,” at his insistence, she elaborated. “I don’t want to be a Kindler… I know I’m downplaying my situation but… it was rough to say the least. The less I dwell on it, the better.”
She took a breath, bracing herself for the worst, he was unlikely to get angry over her next request, but several moons of skirting around the volatile Chrysalis had left its mark. “I was thinking, with your permission, of serving under you directly.”
“A Mothling… It has been an age since I last accepted one…” Grimm was quiet as he pondered the suggestion. “You are aware of the rumours? They are only true to the degree you want them to be, a Mothling’s duty to me is more than that of a servant or minder, they are as closely tied to my heart, to my realm, as I am…”
Still, she waited, cautiously watching him for the slightest change in expression or body language. He was pensive and Hearth kept her thoughts closed off from her ruler lest he pick up on her ill-founded worries.
“You are also in need of support,” Grimm continued, peering down at her. “While you saw the healers, I took a cursory look at the state of the Badlands Hive. It is as you said, starving lings… Poor, frightened things living in terror,” He shook his head ruefully. “Truly detestable.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “They’re the ones who need help.”
He arched a brow at her. “They are not the ones that were beaten and left for dead. Had I not found you, I daresay you would have been worse off…If you survived at all.”
She grumbled in frustration. She was frustrated in herself, her injuries, in her own failings to truly stop Chrysalis… It was an endless loop of doubt and helplessness. She did her best to put it all aside and sighed. “I know…but I was responsible for their safety! Who will do that now?”
“I have Harvesters watching over Chrysalis and her brood, they are ensuring every ling gets the food and medical treatment they need without the rogue queen knowing,” Grimm explained. “I’ve also sent some Knights over to help those who wish to leave the hive but fear retribution if they do. The situation is well in hand.”
Hearth blinked, processing the information. “The Queen?”
Grimm stared at the wall. His gaze unfocused, seeing something beyond the confines of the carriage. “…If left to her own devices, she will be embroiled in the trials that Equestria will face in ten years’ time, her hive a swarm of starving, desperate subjects…” He blinked, scowling at the revelation, and heaved out a sigh. “I believe I shall end those events before they can begin, Chrysalis shall be dealt with and cast out. For too long I, and others, have been idle. Content to see to our own responsibilities and nothing more.”
“Isn’t that normal?” Hearth asked.
“That doesn’t mean everything takes place in isolation. With all that is to come, actions must be taken and unlike others I shall not name, I will not be idle,” Grimm said, bringing his attention back to the changeling still sitting in his lap. “Heed my words friend, a Mothling’s duties are loosely defined. Should you choose to walk down this path, you will be aiding me in my duties…I trust you understand what that entails?”
“A rough idea,” she admitted. “You oversee the nightmare realm, you are the harbinger of endings and beginnings, and you act as a mediator between the other Higher Beings.”
He nodded, smirking. “I admit, I have only had the company of my troupe these last thousand years, I had assumed you would choose to join them.”
She had forgotten about the troupe, a mix of living beings Grimm brought into the fold, and Grimmkin, spirits native to the Nightmare Realm that followed Grimm as he did his duties. The troupe and their tent was The Nightmare King’s home when away from the Scarlet Hive. Hearth never had the pleasure of seeing the troupe in person but those 'lings who did often spoke of wonderous performances and Grimm delighting in bringing something joyful and colourful to the world despite the serious nature of his work.
Here was a being that was a symbol of death, a final warning for tyrants and beloved rulers alike.
“Are you certain you don’t mind if I choose to be a Mothling?” Hearth asked him hesitantly. “After what happened with Lady Pyre, I understand if you’re not comfortable with the decision.”
“It has been a thousand years since their sacrifice… And I have been with the troupe for too long,” Grimm reassured her, resting a hand on her back. “Chrysalis’ attempt to overstep her bounds, the mistreatment of her children that went on unnoticed until now… I am in need of someone able to see the trees and not the forest…”
She took a moment to really look at him. It was an old saying. Meant to instil the notion that the small scale, personal struggles were just as important as the bigger picture, and Hearth had always wondered why he hadn’t caught wind of Chrysalis’ scheme sooner. It had simply been a case of the king, of everyone really, being too wrapped in their own responsibilities to take notice. Even Hearth herself had only acted when she could no longer stand to see the hive destroying itself from the inside, and she had tried to save it. She had tried to sneak as much food as she could get away with to the grubs, to the sick, to so many changelings that Hearth was often called the hive’s princess in secret.
She was no princess, to Hearth, she was only doing what was right.
“I guess…I’m your personal Kindler?” she suggested. “That’s what it sounds like anyway, keeping an eye on the little things and all.”
Grimm chuckled. “So long as you don’t interfere with my duties, you may do as you please. Mothling’s are more mystical in nature than I could accurately describe. You will understand upon completing metamorphosis.”
She nodded.
“You were asleep for quite some time, we will be at Canterlot in a few hours,” Grimm said and smiled fondly. “I look forward to seeing how far pony kind has come since I last walked among them.”
“Will we be using disguises?” she asked.
Grimm looked at her, perplexed. “We were offered safe passage, invited. We need only be ourselves.”
“Oh…” her ear fins drooped in embarrassment. “…I’ve never been outside the hive without a disguise before…”
“Fret not, no harm shall befall you,” he said coolly. “We are dealing with ponies, Hearth, they are harmless.”
She winced. “Master, you haven’t seen what a pony is capable of.”
He looked at her curiously but said nothing more on the subject.