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// Larva 
// Story: Shame 
// by Sterling Sketch 
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	The accused one walked through the halls of the frigid enclosure, her head bowed and pleading silently for sanctuary. She desired nothing more than to relinquish her duties and live out her starvation in a desolate corner of her kingdom—rather, her former kingdom.
She meticulously placed one hoof in front of the other, allowing the ones surrounding to exorcise their raging demons. Hunger was truly to blame; an unsuccessful harvest of love would leave them famished for some time. She couldn’t help but believe she deserved the hatred for having facilitated the possible future decimation of the Changelings.
Her angry subjects lined the walls, spitting and mocking her when she got close. She aimed her face to the floor, hoping for this to pass quickly and smoothly. Her failure was certainly forgivable to one housing love; she raised her muzzle a mite to laugh at her own ironic downfall.
As she opened her eyes for the first time in what seemed like ages, her eyes locked with another’s own, and she immediately stopped every process in her mind. Hooves fell, breathing ceased, and all who saw the interaction silenced themselves, or, at least that’s how it seemed. The being before her had donned the false mien of her enemy, Princess Mi Amore Candenza of Canterlot. The pathetic fool had even smirked as the fallen Queen had once before, and she knew then the fury that came from such a look. Rage washed over her chitinous limbs and made her body tense.
Two guards shoved on her haunches, causing her to stumble forward onto the slick surface of the castle’s floor. That cold quietness that had wrapped around every jaw shattered as she regained her posture. Still seething from the sight of her offender, she reluctantly continued on through the arched passages of her own home.
The audience chambers were only a little way off now, but the wade through the guilt hanging thick in the air would be no easier to budge. The forsaken ruler would have to swallow her pride and bite her tongue in response to whatever these ungrateful Changelings would do. If it meant ignoring the mirrored face of defeat, it would have to be done. Her face steeped to the ground with one more angry huff as they neared the towering doors of her judgement seat.
They stopped at the base of the portal, waiting for confirmation before entering. A thunderous boom of vocal irritation resounded from the inside, clashing furiously against the gate. The two guards who escorted her neared her sides and took their hooves up to the frame of the door, budging it open only enough to allow the accused’s entrance.
“Enter, fiend.”
Those two words bellowed as the voice had before, now washing over her rising face. She focused on the being which had taken her place; it sounded like--
“Did you not hear me? Enter!”
Queen Chrysalis gathered herself and forced her way into the narrow passage. Her trial had come.

Larva nestled her final cache of love in her decayed hoof. This little sip of love would have to last her until her sisters returned from advising the harvest preparations. She began to think about how troublesome it is to be a parasite. Simply because of their nature, the Changelings have had countless bouts with starvation. In theory, living in a land of true harmony would provide ample sources for their feeding, but she couldn’t help but wonder why she favored starvation so much….
The growing Changeling stomped on her straying mind’s leash. Self-control was essential for her, seeing as how she would need it when she was given the throne that her mother held. No matter how much her stomach would tremble, she had to keep her composure.
She lay down her nourishing vessel and made eyes at her books again. Those texts, some ancient and most modern, held all of the ways to gather and, if the situation desired, siphon the love from those who produced it naturally. Their go-to plan has been taking love by force, and in doing so, destruction had been wrought. There had to be a way to efficiently and harmlessly take love and cultivate it. At this point, it was only a matter of finding.
The gatekeeper called from above her nest, signaling the return of the two princesses. Larva took no glance from her studies, and instead repeated a patterned call of understanding. The action had been done so many times that she now wondered if she had already read this portion of Understanding the Composure of Affection.
While the eldest remained glued to her research, the little one climbed through the port on the ceiling. She caught herself on her wings and placed herself close to Larva, attempting to draw her attention.
“Are we still in this together?” The foal’s eyes were wide with anticipation. She raised herself on her forelegs to lean close for Larva’s answer.
Larva was wrung from the explanation of Carous matter activation by this simple, overheard statement.
“Yes, youngest. We indeed are,” she sighed, turning herself and raising a dark hoof to meet her sister’s.
The youngest princess was a young and careless sprout, just like Larva had been when she was young. She had a lust after love and its various forms from her infant days and now used that same hunger for more creative pursuits of the blessed toxin. She took after the second-born, but desired to be like Larva more. She wanted to begin preparations for overthrowing her other sibling, and Larva was the one she went to for advice. Humoring her was the wisest choice. Besides, what hope did she have of defeating her in the end anyway? 
Within a moment of making contact with her hoof and a quick flash of fangs from the lesser sibling, Larva returned to her examination of the adventurous text.
Using a heart for low range love dispersion, perhaps? No, love is stored in the heart, not manufactured….
A moment passed and the other royal sister landed softly on the smooth, hive floor. She sank to a seat, practicing her greatest graces even though her company was the most private of privates. “We have begun enhancements on our storming procedures, maximizing gather rate and lessening casualty rate. The exacts measure to…,” she recited, referencing a chart held by her horn’s glow. “...four-point-six percent increase in harvest and point-one-three percent decrease in fatality. Mind you, this is naught but an estimate.” Moth lowered her notes and looked to Larva for a response.
Moth was a sullen type, even for the standards of a Changeling. Her approaches and demeanor were always very formal and proper. She never allowed herself to be easily distracted with petty matters and only cared to please the noble Queen. Her face remained a taut version of her natural self, distorted by the hatred for her elder sister, the reason she was the second-born.
Larva, still attempting to bury herself in Desola’s findings, tossed the numbers around in her head. Dissatisfied, she snapped her gaze to Moth, hoping to see a rare occasion of whimsy in her eyes. They remained as grave as the Queen’s own.
“Is there no way to increase that number? Sixteen isn’t a good amount of survival.” She turned her body to face her younger sister. “Can we try for sixty?”
Moth blinked once, as if to absorb the brashness of the comment. “This is a military action, you know. They are the ones we send in to take by force. Peace isn’t really an option.” Moth spoke as if speaking from the mouth of Mother.
“That is exactly why I’m in these archaic scribblings.” Larva motioned to the large stack of worn texts on the table behind her. “If we cannot harvest without taking lives, our race will perish from having no more to take.” She turned again to her book. “Emulating peaceable trade of love for… for something seems to be our only option.”
The youngest spoke up. “Isn’t that why we move from city to city, to make sure the numbers stay constant?”
“Yes, but…,” Larva spoke and dug through several strewn-about sheets, eventually producing a map. “...We’ve wiped off four cities already and we haven’t even been above our standard in food lately." Red "X"s marked out the overtapped towns. "Our population is growing and our habits are becoming a nuisance.”
“If we had any desire for peaceable trade, our mother would’ve found a way, surely.” Moth lifted herself from her seat and spreading her wings, prepared to depart. “I’ll request an audience with her so we can at least present your ideas.”
Larva nodded, and instantly Moth took to the Hive. Turning her attention to her youngest sibling, she spoke softly. “I still have some work to do here, but I’ll meet you at our spot later, okay?”
“Got it.” The young Changeling flashed her fangs playfully and took off in uniform with Moth. The room settled to peace again, and Larva sealed herself away in her volumes.

Chrysalis eyed the figure in her throne as she strode to her seat. This was a female with a surprisingly deep and illustrious voice. The entity that had taken her place had also donned a dark cloak over her face in custom with the old queen’s practice. Chrysalis found it far too stuffy and not quite as endearing as delivering judgement with her own beautiful face. It seemed to her that this pony would not want that chore placed on her identity. The convict queen understood her fear of condemning her own ruler.
Chrysalis stopped at the banister before her. It was raised slightly onto a platform and guarded by a knight on either side. She had no chance of escape, nor an intent to attempt escape. She kept telling herself that she deserved punishment for what she had done, but something wasn’t well with her. There was some reason that her culpability wasn’t solid. It would have to wait for now.
“Have you anything to say before we begin?” The voice had simmered down, but it still held a degree of coarseness in her quieter approach.
“Yes, in fact.” Chrysalis responded with equal harshness in her reply. “You are aware that you all consented to our siege of Canterlot, right? We all agreed it was a last-ditch effort to forget starvation, and we all failed. All.” She turned to face the small crowd that had been amassed in the audience hall.
The judge was taken aback. “The siege? Of that, we know you are not to blame; we aren’t as savage as most people think we are. You, of all ponies, should know that.” She calmed her tone again, leaning forward now to make herself clear. “You are charged with something that only recently resurfaced.”
Chrysalis searched in her mind for what this may be about. Her crowning had been by force, yes, but that was part of Changeling tradition. It was a sort of challenge to see who could get the Queen’s guard down long enough to take her life. It isn’t like there would be any care for the Queen anyway. Mothers deserved reverence and nothing more. Moments passed as she raced to find what it was she had done.
“I see you’re having some trouble, so would you like some assistance?”
“If you’re through making me squirm.” Chrysalis spat at the figure who leaned on her hooves. It’s like she was amused at her toiling.
“That’s only just beginning.” The judge demasked herself immediately. Her face was adorned a with pure black sheen. Her mane spilled out in long locks of vibrant green and revealed a mark she had known before; one that resembled a crown. Her horn was large and towering above her face. Her eyes snapped open, revealing a fluorescent blue.
The judge spoke again. “Have you remembered now? Or should I show you the scar, sister?”