She’d been defeated. There was no euphemism, no comforting self-assurance to make the sting less sharp. There should have been some consolation--she was still alive, after all--but that small mercy did little to ease the humiliation, near-psychotic fury, terror, and mind-numbing depression Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings felt over her disastrous defeat at Canterlot only three weeks previously. Sitting on a makeshift throne in what had once been a thriving hive but was now almost deserted, her mind spun in circles, as it had ever since she returned home.
How could she have been so foolish? Her kind fed on emotions like any other food--more than that, even: emotions were fuel for their magic--so how had she not seen the danger posed by the love of that ridiculous princess for her groom? Even in her seeming triumph, Chrysalis had known full well her defeat of Celestia had been pure luck; only harvesting Shining Armor’s seemingly bottomless love had given her just enough of an edge to catch the alicorn off guard--and that had only come through at the last instant before Celestia would have otherwise killed her...or worse, thinking of what had happened to Discord and Nightmare Moon. It was only through sheer luck that Chrysalis was alive now, even, having landed within her hive’s territory close enough to limp home and be tended by the few who had stayed. She doubted many of her subjects would come back as quickly, being scattered to the winds in a very literal sense.
Those that survived the fall, that is, she thought. A smattering had returned, but the Hive remained distressingly empty. Of a hoard that had once numbered in the thousands, Chrysalis now presided over a motley gaggle of barely a hundred able-bodied Changelings. “Not even enough to fill the main chamber.” Had anyone else been within earshot, they would have heard more a growl than coherent speech. Her jagged horn glowed a sickly green and her eyes flashed, magic and anger coursing through her. “Not enough to hunt, not enough to defend the Hive, not even enough to flee and seek out another Hive!!”
Chrysalis was standing now, fangs bared and her injured wings spasming. “Damn it all, THERE AREN’T ENOUGH OF US TO SURVIVE!!!” The last came as a screeching yell, boiling with hatred and despair. The whole display would have cowed even the most hardy and arrogant of her warriors, but now...
Now...
The rush the outburst had given her was suddenly gone, and Chrysalis slumped to her ersatz chair, the impact knocking off a few stones. Her green eyes, once glowing with fury-born magic, seemed to blur as she stared at the floor. “Not enough...” this time, her words were barely a whisper.
“M-m’queen...? I-I must speak with you...it is urgent.”
Chrysalis’ head snapped up at the new voice, her previous rage somewhat forgotten. Quivering before her throne was a somewhat plump female with a grey hide bereft of spines or spikes, and a wiry white mane that ran down almost her entire length, draping over her body like a thin blanket, with breaks in the coverage formed by her translucent, wasplike wings. One of her brood-tenders, in charge of raising the Hive’s young. Irreverently, Chrysalis observed that her insectoid eyes--a creamy yellow--gave the tender a somewhat comical appearance, despite her obvious fear.
Chrysalis gathered herself and rose to her feet, fighting the urge to wince as strained, still-injured muscles were put to work. “What is it?” She growled.
Bowing low, the brood tender answered, “M’queen, I bring...unfortunate news regarding the younglings. Myself and the other tenders have been making our best efforts--our absolute best, I assure you! But--”
“Speak plainly,” Chrysalis snapped. “You said this was urgent, so get to the point and stop padding the news with this self-patronizing.” It's not like anything you say can make this any more hopeless.
“M-M’queen...” The tender was almost prostrate, and Chrysalis swore she heard her subject hyperventilating. “As things stand...we do not have enough food--meat or stored emotions--to feed all the young.” There was a long, horrible pause. “At least...not them and us...”
Silence. Neither Changeling spoke, or barely moved. Into the horrific void, Chrysalis gave an order. “Take me to the hatchery. At once.”
“Yes, m’queen; at once.” Visibly relieved, the other female rose to her feet and shakily trotted off, Chrysalis in tow. They strode out of her throne room into a cavernous, winding tunnel. It wasn’t unbearably dark, but only just. The few torches left were crowned with sputtering, weak flames, and the magic-laced gemstones were now largely missing, no longer adding their steady, multicolored glow. Chrysalis felt a sudden stab of curiosity.
“Tender...what is your name?” Her subject suddenly stopped, wide-eyed. Some distant part of Chrysalis’ mind still thought the yellow eyes looked funny, moreso now that their owner wasn’t terrified.
“My name, m’queen? ...I was, er, am, called Kara by the other tenders.” Over her surprise, she--Kara--resumed walking. “Why do you wish to know?”
Chrysalis offered no answer as she followed Kara through the dark, empty tunnels. Tunnels that had, just three weeks previously, been swarming with Changelings. Walking with Kara, she realized, was helping her think. Think of a way to save what little of her subjects she had left--a way to survive. If we can’t survive on our own, what can we do? No-one would help us willingly; that’s not an option. We could manipulate some target to raise us up indirectly, but that takes time...something I don’t think we have.
They entered a sinkhole the Hive’s main caves snaked through. Months of toil by drones and Diamond Dog “volunteers” had turned the pit into an amphitheater, the stone floor carved into descending terraces of bench seats towards a circular stage whose lighting was--or had been--supplied by a network of reflective gemstones which focused the light of the sun or moon onto the stage. Chrysalis winced upon seeing the room; she had addressed her drones on the invasion of Canterlot there--her last great speech before assembled subjects. Now the room was fading, moss caked over the stone where rain had fallen and the masonry was showing erosion. The gemstones, like those in the tunnel, were largely missing. A few destitute drones were using it as a sleeping area--black splotches in the grey.
Chrysalis managed to block out the rest of the trek. It was just more of the same--dank tunnels, deserted junctions and hubs, scattered pockets of her last snatches of subjects. Though, she noticed Kara was leading her deeper underground, and...it was getting hotter.
Kara stopped at a final bend in the cave. “Through here, m’queen,” she announced. Chrysalis followed her around the bend, into the hatchery's near-sweltering air.