The Prisoner sat in his small excuse of a jail cell, a grim look written on his face. It was dark and the cold still managed to crawl into his carapace no matter his efforts.
"You should feel honoured, first 'ling to be branded a traitor since who knows how long. Why the sad eyes?" The mocking tone was clear, yet set in a way that sounded innocent at the same time.
He moved his eyes to gaze upon his jailer. He paused. Then took a good deep breath in and replied "I'm not a traitor."
There was a derisive snort. "Found during the wedding, wandering around instead of helping your fellow kin as they die. We aren't even sure who you are, since apparently you were so forgettable no one remembers you." she turned her head to observe him "It isn't natural for every single lint and lynx not to have the slightest idea of who you are, to put it mildly. I am not convinced in the slightest of your innocence, Prisoner." Apparently his jailer also had a constantly moving mouth. A wealth of information.
"That's not my name. And besides, I was confused. Didn't know where I was."
"So you claim, Prisoner." She paused and looked up into the air almost as though smelling something. Then she stiffened in a rigid posture. "The queen. Shes here."
That was rather quick to be meeting the leader of an entire species, wasn't it? Then again, he had only interacted with one species, that being his own.
There was a buzz of sorts and in entered one he had learned about through naught but careful listening.
His jailer crouched down in some sort of bow. "This is the traitor? I had expected an experienced infiltrator or a scared drone. Certainly not a common guard. Most certainly not since the incident." Queen Chrysalis stated, in a tone that would have convinced one that she was criticizing overly burnt fish.
She cut an imposing figure and his eyes took seconds to realize she was a a good bit bigger than him. Alas, his jailer, now finished with kneeling, interjected, her answer breaking his thoughts. "Yes, your majesty. He's the one."
Chrysalis turned to stare at him carefully. He stared back, clearly unsure of what to do.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself."
"I'm loyal. Serve the throne."
"Really? Why didn't you kneel when I appeared, then?"
There was a moderate period of silence, but before those on the best side of the bars could say anything he answered.
"Does it matter if I'm dead?"
The Queen smiled, showcasing her bone white fangs.
"Who said anything about death?"
He woke up in an uncomfortable position. The ground was cold, but he didn't recognize the texture. He wasn't in a jail cell anymore, was he? He would assume so.
"Finally woke up, Penal guard?"
He went rigid. "What?"
"It's your name. Or your title. Something like that."
"It's not my name" He let out with a sigh "My name is..." He sat up with alarm. What was his name!?
"Don't you remember? It's merely a small part of the punishment you got."
He did remember.
"Penal changelings lose the memory of most of their life and other things, like passwords and secrets. You will be spared the basics, like your general knowledge. You will be watched carefully. Earn your loyalty and perhaps you will have less of a miserable life. Fail, and suffer."
"That seems like a rather light punishment."
"That is what you think. You will be treated like expendable hethicus. You are below that of drones. You will serve the throne, whether you like it or not. Be glad we can't spare a single 'ling-"
His jailer took his attention once again. "Your the first penal 'ling in a long time. Even longer ago than traitors were a thing. centuries more perhaps."
She studied him carefully "Usually you would be given a name of sorts immediately but since your the first penal 'ling in such a long time, your the only penal 'ling here, thus you don't receive a proper one yet." She shook her head, red compact eyes shining. "Off to work with you now."
He sat on his haunches, ignoring the order, dealing with his situation the best he could, all four of his legs feeling as though ice had seeped completely into them.
She gave him a glare. "I trust you remember what disobeying orders from those who are above you entails?"
He did, wishing that part of the conversation had been forgotten instead of his other memories, and got up.
"Where do I go..?" He asked warily.
She sighed. "I have to teach you as if you were a newborn grub, don't I? Well, my name is Locust, go there" she lifted her leg (hoof?) till you see the arched doorway, then sit at the doorway and don't move. Guard that area. We will send someone to tell you when to stop. Don't let the 'lings get out. The area is a vital part to the hive and since we don't have any more- Just guard the damn thing already!"
The outburst shocked him, and in a fearful state he turned and followed his orders the best he could.
He walked silently, mulling over his recent conversation. When he reached his destination he observed where he had been sent to guard.
Another 'ling had noticed him, gave him an emotionless look and walked away without a word, leaving him with alone to guard the position.
Inside the room a bunch of tiny changelings were fighting within a reasonably sized room.
God, he was sent to guard a literal nursery? He- what? He wasn't meant to be their caretaker if he understood correctly, just keep them in. Because changelings had yet to invent doors, quite apparently. In fact a couple of the adult changelings inside he guessed were the caretakers themselves, providing watch as the tiny 'lings fought fought rather viciously among themselves.
Huh. A nursery.
It was rather important, he realized, ridding himself of hysteria. The young are the future and one would be a fool not to know that.
He sat and did his job which consisted of standing still and making sure none pass. Huh. He still remembered Gandalf, somehow.
Did he miss his family and friends? No. Wait. He didn't have any that he could remember. A tad difficult to miss what you don't remember as even being a part of your life. Perhaps he missed what could have been. He certainly missed Earth, that glorious planet in which he had fingers.
"Magic" was strange. A new thing he had yet to understand.
Not too mention that everyone around him thought he was always a 'ling, born a 'ling and that meant he was expected to know this.
Was there a library of sorts somewhere?
Someone tapped him at his - fetlock, was it? - he glanced down. One of the kids had approached him with a serene look on said child's face.
"Is your name really Penal Guard?" he chirped.
He stared. After a moment, he thought he really had to reply.
"Yes."
"Your name sucks!" another child angrily squeaked.
He blinked. "Do you have any better ones?"
"Yes!" she said proudly "Pigeon!"
The silence that reigned supreme over him only managed to keep its throne for a second.
"...doesn't it have to be insectoid-themed...?"
"Only for true changelings!"
Silence regained its throne and resumed ruling.
"..Alright" He conceded. It was better than Penal Guard, decidedly.
He looked forward and focused on guarding.
Had he been a security guard of sorts? He couldn't remember. He must have had some patience at least for he was able to fight boredom until a... drone if he remembered right nervously approached him and gave him a jar. Inside was a pink gas or mist of sorts. He stared at it. Clearly he was supposed to know what to do with it. He opened it with utmost caution. The mist practically jumped out and flew into his mouth. he stiffened and- ...it felt as though he had consumed a small meal. He felt the hunger that he hadn't even acknowledged fade a little.
"Rations?" he muttered. Changelings eat pink air?
"...Yes?" the drone whom he had forgotten about answered, looking at him with a mixture of confusion, curiosity and nervousness.
"I see. Don't let me hold you from your job." he dismissed.
The drone buzzed his wings, ready to leave.
"Wait." The drone stopped.
"Whats the difference between a drone and a guard?"
The drone stared at him almost incredulously. "You don't know? I thought the loss of your memories didn't include basic knowledge!"
He stared at the drone blankly. Then Pigeon sighed and asked "Well, what's your name?"
A pause. "Thorax."
"Well Thorax, educate me."
"W-well Drones have blue eyes and are given wings and speed, Warriors have red eyes and are given magic and strength, Caretakers have purple eyes and are given horns and a large storage for love to spread and Guards have green eyes and are granted magic and endurance. Infiltrators have orange eyes and are given perfect disguises and powerful magic" He finished off with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.
Pigeon looked at Thorax with amusement "This was a nursery rhyme of sorts, wasn't it?"
Thorax nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Blue Drones, for the hive to function, Red Warriors, to destroy its enemies, Purple Caretakers, to teach the young, Green Guards, for when it prospers, Orange infiltrators, to hide in plain sight, and the Queen, the embodiment of the hive herself! DWCGIQ!"
Pigeon stared at him, his green compact eyes communicating how bewildered he was.
Thorax managed to wield the power to solve all storage problems of the universe by shrinking.
"Thanks.. Thorax. See you later, I suppose. Have a good day?" Pigeon offered kindly.
"Alright" Thorax mumbled "I'll just go now."
Watching Thorax fly away he could only think What a strange mess I've landed myself in.