//------------------------------//
// What has been done, cannot be undone. 
// Story: What Have I Done? 
// by Xhoral1865 
//------------------------------//

Chrysalis lay next one of her subjects. She was one of many that lay scattered across the mountain side that lay at the far edge of the Badlands. Not many had survived the harsh and brutal landing of arriving in the Badlands. None of this would have happened if Chrysalis had just swallowed her pride as ruler of her hive and opted for a covert takeover of Canterlot, instead of the messy ordeal of attacking it directly. She never should have done that. Now her subjects were starving, hurt, and dying. It was all her fault, all hers.

Chrysalis had always thought that her hive was the strongest, now she knew that the ponies were even stronger. Even though the attack of Canterlot had been easy, she had not expected the Captain of the Guard to come out of his stupor and combine his power with that of the Princess of Love. Now her overconfidence had been her hive’s downfall, and now her hive was dying. 

She had found several of her changelings, healed them, and set out to find more. With each changeling she found, she shed a tear for how short their lives may be out in this wasteland. There were no ponies out here, no griffons, not even wildlife would live here, for it was too inhospitable. The only things that could live here were these mysterious dragonflies. They seemed to live off the very rocks themselves, eating them like there were nothing. This caused a few of her changelings to attempt eating the rocks, only to find out that they were rocks and not some mineral that could be eaten. Even though this would have normally caused her to laugh, it made her shed another tear.

It had taken several weeks to find the remnants of her hive, but she found what was left. It was only a fraction of her original hive. Such a pitiful amount. Her hive had once had thousands of changelings, now only a few hundred, and even now they were many that were dying due to their injuries and starvation. Chrysalis herself was starting to feel the effects of hunger, and her wounds had yet to heal. Once the last changeling had been found Chrysalis sent scouts to find food, any type of food. Changelings could temporarily sustain themselves on pony food, but they still needed emotions to survive.

A week after sending her scouts, one returned. A further fourth of her hive had died due to festered wounds and starvation. They had been on the move ever since they had grouped. He reported to seeing an oasis in the desert they had started trekking across. Chrysalis would have hugged her scout if not for her utter exhaustion. She immediately told him to lead her hive to the oasis. 

When they arrived at the oasis her changelings roared with joy. There was water for them to drink from, food to eat, and shelter from the blistering sun and heat. Even though her hive insisted that she have the first drink, the first fruit, the best shade, she refused. Her hive was more important to her than a drink, a piece of fruit, or some shade. Only when her hive had had their fill did Chrysalis finally drink her fill of water and eat her share of the fruit that was left.

Once the hive had packed enough food and stored enough water did Chrysalis call for them to march deeper into the Badlands. She knew that there was an old changeling hive in the forested part of the Badlands. The hive she was leading her hive to was the first hive, the oldest hive. Once there she could request that her hive be kept safe until she could find a suitable area in which to start her hive anew.

Her hive was still starving even though they had all the food they needed. It wasn't because they weren't eating, they had rationed out the fruits of the oasis, they were starved of emotions; the most nourishing thing a changeling needed. If they did not find somewhere to feed, many more of her changelings would die. Chrysalis wanted to quicken the pace of their march, but knew that if she did she would cause even more of her changelings to die. Especially those that were still nursing injuries. So she kept the current pace of their march, vainly hoping they could go faster so they could reach the ancient hive all the faster.

Another week went by, and they had finally made it to the forested area of the Badlands. They needed to find the ancient hive, or they would soon be nothing left of Chrysalis’ hive. A further fraction had died in the week that had passed, causing Chrysalis to fall deeper into the depression that had settled over her but her hope had been bolstered thanks to the old forest. She immediately sent scouts to find the hive upon reaching the edge of the forest. 

Another day passed while Chrysalis and her hive set up a camp in the edges of the forest. Ten more changelings passed away overnight due to their wounds which had festered and become infected with a strange disease that caused their carapace to soften and slough away, revealing the soft flesh beneath. The insects of the forest quickly took advantage of their weakness and pierced through their skin and ate the poor changelings from the inside out. The victims died in painful agony, their screams heard throughout what remained of the once prosperous hive until Chrysalis mercifully killed them herself to end their torment. She had cried while killing them, feeling guilty for their unneeded deaths. She knew that their deaths were her fault. 

Another day passed, with only one changeling dying. It was her oldest friend and adviser, Zoid. He had helped raise Chrysalis and was like a father figure to her. They had made many happy memories together. He was taken by an elemental while the hive slept. It killed him in his sleep, for that Chrysalis was grateful that he did not die in pain. She still felt guilty, as she could have prevented his death by setting up a watch. Once again her overconfidence had killed someone dear to her. She thought that the one hundred and twenty changelings of her dwindling hive would ward away any creatures that would otherwise attack a smaller group. Nothing happened for the rest of the day.

The next day her scouts returned. They came bearing good news for the downtrodden queen. They reported finding the ancient hive, but they had not courage to approach it. Chrysalis almost berated them for their cowardice but stopped herself. She would have done the same thing had she been in their place. They did not know whether the hive would be friendly. For all they knew the place could have been overrun by the forest, since the entrance had been covered in vines and other such flora. Chrysalis knew better, the ancient hive had been like that for ages so as not to attract suspicion.

It took a further week to reach the hive. Twenty more changelings have died. None of them died from wounds or sickness. It was like the forest itself did not want them to reach the only place that could save them. The only place that they could hope to survive in. When they reached it they stopped at the entrance.

The entrance of the hive was crumbling and almost on the brink of collapse. This worried Chrysalis severely. It should not be like this, it should only look like it was decrepit. She ordered her subjects to stay outside, lest the hive collapse on all of them. Many of them argued, something they would have never done before. Many tried to go in first. She stopped them all, but only barely. Chrysalis vehemently told them that they were not to go in first, as she didn’t want any more of them to die on her account. This surprised her hive, who had thought that their only reason for existing was to protect and serve their queen. A few of the braver souls told her this. Chrysalis, broken from guilt and her depression, told them that they were more than her subjects now, they were part of her family now. She left them there, stunned beyond belief, as she entered the crumbling hive.

The interior of the hive was a grand thing. There were statues of past Queens and Kings. There was a depiction of the war between the hives, The War of Swarms. A brutal war that lasted several decades. It was only stopped because the war had almost driven the changelings to extinction. The cause of the war had long since been lost to history, but many speculate that the cause of the war was because of aggressive nature of the past Kings and Queens.

Although the changelings of the old hive lived farther in the utter emptiness of the entrance worried Chrysalis. There should have been at least one or two guards at the entrance, to either greet fellow changelings or ward off or kill would-be adventurers. Chrysalis traveled deeper into the hive, looking around for signs of life. She found signs of a large battle. This worried her more than the missing guards. If there was a large battle at the heart of the changeling civilization, then that meant that her attack on Canterlot had been the reason of it. She knew that her kind had been in hiding from the other civilizations for obvious reasons. That the other countries and factions would see them as monsters, love-stealers, creature-killers, and various other things that her kind did not do.

She ventured farther into the hive, afraid of what she would find. Up ahead was the main throne room. There had been no signs of life up to this point. If there would be any changelings left in this ancient home of the changelings, then it would be in the throne room.

As Chrysalis entered the throne room, she stopped. What she saw was the most horrifying thing she had ever seen. Hundreds of changelings were there, but none of them were alive. Some of them were even torn open, signaling that an animal had been here to feast of the results of the battle. Since the only corpses were changelings, Chrysalis could only assume that an uprising had happened. She had had several sympathizers in the other hives that had supported her attack of Canterlot. But there was an equal number of hives that was appalled at her actions. Knowing this, Chrysalis felt more guilt pile upon her. She had caused this battle… this massacre. It was all her fault that more changelings had died. They had fought in her defense.

There was nothing left for her hive. Nothing that could save them. There was nowhere else they could go without dieing on the way there. All their hopes had been set on finding sanctuary in this ancient home of the changelings. Now, because of her, her hive was going to die out. Her hive was probably the last remaining hive. She collapsed on the floor in wracking sobs of despair.

“What have I done?”