Deep beneath the earth, there was the Hive.
He stood at the very center of the crossroads of cavernous tunnels that spread out around him. The cool, dark air—clear to his luminescent eyes as daylight—hummed with the sound of his brothers' wings and shouts. The stone walls that had sheltered him and his family for so long echoed the sound into a constant wail, crying out as the unthinkable happened.
His home was sundering.
Through his entire life, the Hive was this place. It was these chambers, where he lived and trained for as long as he could remember. It was the lake and its gifts of water and fish that supplemented the scarcity of love. It was the caves and tunnels and his brothers and sisters, all as one. Changelings had come and gone as duty demanded, but the Hive remained.
And now they were leaving it. Rumors had spread for months, but the truth was finally laid bare: the changelings were going to war. They were going to reveal themselves to the world and claim a new home.
Only one had the authority to give such an order, and she was the one towering over him now. He kneeled before his Queen, as he always did, bowed his head in deference to his Master, as she demanded, and spoke out of turn—for the first time.
"Don’t do this."
Chrysalis struck him across the face. "The weapon does not question its wielder!"
He bowed his head further, ignoring the dull throb of pain. "Let me fight with you. If we’re invading, there’s no need for me to stay back.”
"You will serve me as you have always served me." Her hoof touched his chin and pulled his face up. "You do remember your purpose, yes?"
"Secrecy is our survival, and secrecy is my weapon. I strike from the shadows to keep the Hive hidden there." The litany spilled forth, almost automatically, but he shook his head. "That’s what you taught me, and I haven’t forgotten. But Equestria is too big. You’re exposing us all, and if the invasion fails—”
He cut himself off with a snarl. Chrysalis was leading the invasion personally. No brother in the Hive knew her power like he did, and he had felt it often during his training. From the force of her destructive bolts to the skills of telekinesis that belonged to her alone, her command of magic surpassed every brother and sister in the Hive, and even with the physical strength and skills he learned from her tutelage, he was nothing compared to her.
Chrysalis stared at him, hard, but his insolence slipped by, unremarked on. "Your task remains the same. You will wait and watch over your brothers and sisters. Should they fail, you will seek your target and eliminate her.”
"One? In all of Equestria, I only have one target?"
"One.” Chrysalis slowly circled around him. “One target that will earn our Hive its place in history forevermore.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “One target that, if we fail, will make the ponies taste the same despair of defeat.”
He forced his breathing to stay calm and controlled, but his body’s shaking betrayed his thoughts.
His Queen and Master stroked his back, and she bared her fangs in a vicious smile. "You always were a clever child. Tell me your mission."
"P-Princess Celestia.” He regained control of himself and met Chrysalis’ gaze. “I will kill Princess Celestia."
Thoughts of home faded back to reality with another mouthful of coffee. He peered through the smudged window next to his table into the night, scanning the street behind the transparent reflection of his disguise until movement caught his eye.
An earth mare slinked through the bright streetlights of Canterlot, continuing to follow the same path she had night after night. Her head dipped, letting her mane fall over her face while two unicorn stallions walked by her. She lifted the impromptu veil—as straight and white as the clouds that hung over the city earlier that day—and the mare smiled as she stood in front of her destination.
And he waited for her inside, ready to begin his mission in earnest after a week of scouting and frustration.
His quiet vigilance was interrupted by the loud brays of an ass sitting at the table in front of him, and a muscular gray stallion laughed along with him. “So then I says, ‘For that much, the hammer better jack itself!’”
The Hive was never even that loud. He shot them a glare, then looked up to the door. The mare walked in as a plate smashed against the floor behind the counter.
One of the cooks swiped at the other. “Where were you, numbskull?”
The numbskull shoved his accuser. “I wasn’t the one who let go of it!”
The crowded room laughed and egged them on, and his chuckles joined them as the mare smiled and shook her head.
Her stride was more open and fluid than what she showed outside, and her slender body cut through the press of ponies and chairs with a grace that was foreign to the lumbering oafs surrounding her. She settled in her usual spot at the end of the counter, across the aisle from his table.
A third cook stopped in front of her. "What'll it be, doll?"
Slice of pie.
"Slice of pie," she answered. "I need a pick-me-up tonight."
He gestured with a broad sweep of his foreleg. "We've got apple and peach."
Peach.
"Peach. The sweetest slice you’ve got."
The cook cracked a smile. "You want some ice cream on it?"
She sighed and put an elbow on the counter, leaning her head against her hoof. "Fry, if you actually had ice cream, I would be impressed."
The cook laughed and left to fetch her order.
He continued to study her, but after days of watching, he believed he had the measure of her. Her body—slight of build and a touch shorter than the other ponies in the room—still clung to its youth. The earth tribe's lack of wings and a horn did her physical stature no favors, and her submissive posture to the unicorns outside was no longer a surprise to him. It did make her decision to live in Canterlot a curious one, but his interest truly lay with her occupation.
He had first spotted her leaving Canterlot Castle on his third day of surveillance. Coincidence, he had assumed, until he spotted her again, taking the same route. And again, each night retracing her steps as though she were a train, and the path to the diner were laid down in tracks.
For the first time since he witnessed the Hive blasting away from the city, his mission had taken a step forward. She had information he needed, observations that only eyes and ears inside the castle itself could pick up.
He took a long breath through his nose. Her flowery scent and pristinely clean pink coat ran counter to the diner's baser nature, but he couldn’t deny the change he saw in her each night. She held herself with an air of confidence as the cook, Fry, brought over her plate. In that small slice of the world, she sat with her head above her shoulders, and made no move to hide from the rough-and-tumble ponies sitting next to her.
She lowered her guard in this place. That was the opening he needed.
"Refill, hon?"
He looked up into the grinning, wrinkled face of the waitress. The half-empty pot of coffee, strapped around her hoof, shook in the air to repeat the question. "No, thank you. I'm almost finished here."
She leaned in and filled his mug anyway. Her eyes twinkled, and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Maybe you wanna buy somethin’ for the pretty filly?"
He tried to match her smile, grinding his teeth as her hay-ridden breath hit his face. Sloppy! But it could work to his advantage. He paused to flick his gaze at the young mare at the counter, then turned his attention back to the waitress. "I'll consider it."
She slipped him a wink before straightening up. And then she turned to tap his mare on the shoulder. The same mare that sat just feet away. Even with what the waitress considered a stealthy whisper, he was almost certain the mare had heard every word. It was so blatant he had to bite his hoof to stop the laughter.
His mare had an uneasy look when she turned to the waitress. The die was cast.
He looked over the coffee and half-eaten plate of hayfries on the table, and pretended to read the dessert menu. The glass of the window reflected his mare, alone again after the waitress waddled away. He kept still and patient while she looked him over.
Her eyes locked onto his dusky orange wings first. It was a struggle not to bring them in tighter than he already did, but there wasn't anything he could do about them now. If the feathered tribe intimidated her like unicorns did, then he was back to square one. The tension faded, and her eyes moved up.
A feeling of unease driven by instincts ingrained in him by Chrysalis' harsh tutelage settled over him as the mare studied his profile. He brushed his crimson mane across the back of his neck and faced forward again, focusing on his food. Surprising her with conversation or eye contact would do no good.
And she left him in peace.
He glanced over and saw her face turned away from him—and her mind with it. He sneered and stewed in his frustration.
It was the mask. Flight had aided him as he watched over the castle, but now those wings turned her away. It was too late to change. To avoid suspicion, taking a new mask would force him to take time and establish a new routine.
But she had looked past the wings.
Then it was the face. He had spent more time focusing on the athletic build of the pegasi and then slapped on an afterthought of a face to complete his disguise. That decision just cost him the information he needed. There were no second chances with his mission, and blindness would lead to failure.
Failure was unthinkable. He was the only one left to avenge the Hive.
If there were any other options, he hadn’t seen them. After more than a week in Canterlot, he hadn’t even set hoof inside the gates separating the castle grounds from the rest of the city, much less been inside the castle walls themselves. The regular patrols and the constancy of the Royal Guard’s vigilance ensured that, and expecting their guard to drop after the attack was a fool’s gambit.
Once again, a purple veil flashed across his vision, and his brothers and sisters were blown away, scattered to the wind. It fell to him to make sure their efforts weren't in vain, but even if... when he completed his mission, the Hive was finished.
He banished the thought with a shake of his head. No news or rumors had spread of the Hive’s location after the battle, alive or dead. Regardless, Chrysalis had ordered the elders, younglings, and their nursemaids to stay behind. So long as they survived, the Hive survived. If the Queen could not, he would return and protect them as best he could, but his last command must be obeyed.
Breathe. Calm down.
The mare must not have noticed him before now, or she didn’t yet consider him welcome in the makeshift herd of hers. Either way, time was the only answer, and Chrysalis had taught him the value of patience.
The waitress walked back over and slid his check over to him, face down, her eyes still twinkling. “You can leave the money on the table, if you’d like.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome! Come back and see us again, now.” She turned away, winking again.
“I’m sure I will,” he muttered, picking up another limp hayfry. He would have paid every one of his stolen bits for a lake fish—or even one of the mushrooms that grew in the lake’s cavern—but food was food, and he needed to keep his energy up. Chrysalis would not approve of the extra time it would take to steal more bits, no matter how unappealing the food was.
He bit down on the fry and then flipped over his check. A bit for the coffee... three bits for the hayfries... and two bits for a slice of peach pie.
Something brushed against his shoulder. He looked up, and a white tail flicked into his face, brushing across his muzzle and filling his nose with its sweet scent. The tail fell away, and his mare walked on without looking back.
Sly girl.
He grinned, dropped six bits on the table, and stood up. The game was on, and he had underestimated her opening move. She slid through the crowded diner with the same effortless grace she'd entered, and he followed—bumping into ponies and mumbling half-hearted apologies—until he managed to slip between her and the door.
“Please, allow me.” He held the door open for her with a spread wing.
A small smile spread across her face. “That’s two thank-you’s I owe you, hm?” She stepped outside and looked back at him. Her smile grew. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”
“Maybe,” he said, returning the smile and following her out. “I found this place a couple days ago.”
“That’s what Ms. Mulberry said.”
The waitress. “Is that—?”
“The waitress." Her eyes flicked back to the diner. "She’s the one who pointed you out to me.”
“Thought you two looked a little chummy." His eyes followed hers to the diner, and he nodded. "I’ve seen her, but never thought to introduce myself. Guess it would have been nice to have a name to go with a face.”
“It would, wouldn’t it?” She looked at him, head tilted to the side, and flicked an ear.
He mirrored her pose, down to the inquisitive ear-flick.
She smiled and shook her head. “Cherry Blossom. So what do I call you? You aren’t exactly ‘That handsome pegasus sitting behind you’ anymore.”
His grin masked his unease. Sight and scent were enough in the Hive, and names were reserved for Chrysalis and those that led before her. The foreign custom was distasteful, but he was prepared.
“Dawnbreaker.”
Cherry Blossom’s tail swished. “Ooh, I like that! You pegasi get the best names.” She headed for the street, head held high and eyes raised to the sky. “Spitfire, Hurricane, and I even know one named Silverbolt. They’re all so... dramatic.” She waited for him to catch up, and looked at his flank. “And how did you get that?”
He spread his wings to give her a clear view of his false mark: a half sun breaking over two clouds. “I’m up at the break of dawn every day.” He flapped his wings back down. “It all helps make me a pretty useful errand boy. Sorry to disappoint you.”
Cherry hummed in reply and stepped into the street.
He followed, looking up to the stone towers that loomed over him as he did so. The stores and manors in Canterlot—buildings taller and sturdier than any in the outlying towns and villages he was used to seeing—had almost made him feel at home when he first arrived. The stone under his hooves and the encroaching walls of the alleyways soothed him in his first days of reconnaissance. But the stones under his hooves were hewn, unnatural, and the buildings too regular—not at all like the flowing, smooth caves of home.
There was one point of interest. He and Cherry Blossom split their paths and walked around a crater in the center of the street, bounded by stakes and awaiting one of the road crews to fill it in. Even in defeat, his brothers had left their marks throughout the city. Did they feel it, too? Did this place remind them of home?
Focus! They were gone, and they needed him to do his duty. The mare was his goal now.
Cherry rejoined him on the other side of the crater. “You’re a real gentlecolt, aren’t you?” She smiled and nodded at her flank. “You can look.”
“If you insist,” he said with a grin, turning his attention to her mark. The five familiar petals swirled around as if caught in a breeze, each one a pale shade of pink. “I’ll take a guess and say... carpenter?”
She snorted. “Don’t give my supervisors any ideas. I’m a gardener, but they could probably get away with ordering me around like that.” She kicked a hind hoof out to knock a loose rock back into the pit.
“Oh?” He spun in a long, slow circle, making a show of surveying the the stone street bathed in the light of lamps hanging from lamp posts. “There’s not a bit of green in sight." He paused, then pointed at a green awning stretched out over a clothier's shop. "Oh. My mistake. There's some."
"My, what keen eyes you have."
"I do my best. Don’t see any plants, though.” He waved a hoof at the barren street. “I thought gardeners needed gardens.”
“You haven’t been in Canterlot long, have you?”
“A week or so. Long enough to know the only gardens here are locked behind walls or gates." He stopped at a street corner and pointed up the hill to where the more expensive manors were. "May I ask where you fit in?”
Cherry sat down on the walkway and chewed her lip, looking up in the direction he was pointing.
Here it comes.
She studied him intently for a long moment, but finally relented, and turned to point down the other direction, up the fork that led to his objective. “I work at the castle.”
He blinked. Don’t overdo it. Dawnbreaker leaned forward to look around her at the spires that dominated the night sky line. “The castle.” He settled back to his haunches, and looked back at Cherry, then raised his leg to mimic her pointing. “You work at the castle castle?”
She nodded, pressing a hoof to her chest. “The castle castle, yes. Honest truth.”
That was a welcome confirmation. “Well, you’re a lot more important than I am.” He walked past her, and started down the street. “Here I thought I might be able to play the big shot, and you knock me out with one sentence.” Her hoofsteps didn't sound behind him, and he paused to toss a grin over his shoulder.
Cherry Blossom wasn’t moving, but her eyes danced between him and looking down the road behind him. She took a slow step forward, towards him, her stride becoming tight and cautious again. The curtain of her mane fell over her timidly bowed face as she walked past him. “I’m nothing special.”
“If you say so.” His grin remained. The nights he had spent following her home—three blocks down and one to the right—told him her mood shift was no accident. It was time to give her space, but he had made more progress tonight than he would have hoped: she didn’t lie about the castle.
“It was a pleasure, Cherry Blossom, but I have to get going.” He spread his wings briefly, flapped them once, and settled back. "It's late."
“Oh?” She turned, her ears perking up and her head once again rising above her shoulders. “Well... it was nice meeting you, Mr. Dawnbreaker.”
“No,” he laughed, “never call me that again. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow? I have some business near the castle.”
“Maybe.” A moment slipped by, then she smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”
He bowed his head. “Then I promise we’ll be seeing each other again.”
“Heh. You really are a gentlecolt.” She turned and called over her shoulder, “Have a good night!”
“You, too.” Cherry Blossom. She’s more trusting than she lets on. He chuckled and looked back to the castle.
Princess Celestia waited for him inside. She waited behind a wall that separated her palace from the city outside, and an army of guards that patrolled night and day. She waited behind her captain, Shining Armor, and his wife Princess Cadance—the two that defeated Chrysalis and the entire Hive if the stories floating around Canterlot were true.
And she waited with a power that would rival, or even surpass, Chrysalis herself.
Battle was suicide, but she was vulnerable. His attention turned to the rising moon, and he smiled. The sun had to sleep every day, and so too did its steward. That was Cherry Blossom’s importance. A clumsy strike would fail, but she would help him aim.
Her knowledge could get him inside. His skills could keep him undetected. And when the ponies’ goddess dropped her guard, his fangs would find her throat.
Soon. I promise you.