Chimera 14: The Gathering
Draccaria seated herself on the throne of a monarch who was no longer home, her form that of a changeling queen, her mane streaks of white and gold by choice against the smooth short fur of her coat. She had prepared for this day a long time, waiting for the civil war in Chrysalis' kingdom to simmer down to a slow strangling war of attrition between the five major houses and those opposing their declaration of rule in the face of the commoner uprising. Chamberlain Phillip had prepared for this, unleashing the every day changeling's rage upon the noble houses and their matriarchs. Many of the weaker houses were overwhelmed, whole families scattered. A few matriarchs were even killed at the hooves of angry mobs. Beheadings were numerous and celebrated. Changeling law and order had more or less been tossed aside for the sake of good old fashioned mob rule. Blaming the nobility for selling their beloved queen to the Equestrians to stand trial for war crimes was easy enough to do. Stoking the fires for fifteen years made the powder keg very easy to set off.
The past six bloody weeks had been like a cornucopia of mayhem to delight upon.
She smirked into the hoof-held mirror held up to her by a servant, a wisp of a thing from common stalk and very pretty. The eyes staring back at her were deliberately golden, her own eyes. She wanted them to see those eyes when they came in. The changeling filly holding the mirror trembled, very much afraid of the noblemare sitting on the throne. She did not know Draccaria was a dragon, a child of Flamespyre, a Battlesinger. She only saw a queen as dark and terrible and beautiful as the one who had once sat on the throne before. There was also the matter of the three dead bodies scattered before the throne. Nothing more than examples put on display for the very effect on the girl's face now.
"You need not fear me, little one," she purred to the girl, pushing the mirror and caressing the sweet little filly's face gently with a hoof. "This little visual play is not meant for your eyes, but for those who think themselves better than all changelings."
"Yes, ma'am," the changeling filly stammered quietly, not able to look into Draccaria's golden eyes.
Smiling at the trembling maid, Draccaria sat back, settling in comfortably - rather as comfortably as the throne allowed her - and frowned. Must changeling queens sit in this as a test of their ability to withstand discomfort? It was a test of courage to sit in the blasted thing for any length of time! Still, it would serve one more purpose before she had it replaced with something a pony (or dragon) could actually sit on and be somewhat comfortable.
"How do I look?" she asked the filly, preening and flattening some folds out of her lovely gown she had made especially for this day with her front hooves.
Draccaria was clad in silver and white to imitate her favorite flower, the water lily. Two such flowers were set in her curled mane, with mother of pearl beads interwoven with her mane. Ruby earrings were set three in each ear, two smaller ones flanking a singular one in the shape of a dragon's eye. Her hooves were slippered in pearled shoes of simple elegance. A small golden loop pierced her left nostril. Upon her head and just behind her horn sat a crown of frosted flames of silver and crushed diamonds, flickering to its highest point in the center and holding aloft a dark shadowed form of a dragon rising in flight from those white flames. It was her own outline in her true form. Golden eyes appeared to gaze balefully from the shadow.
"You look very beautiful, Lady Draccaria," said the changeling child honestly.
The dragoness smiled, dismissing the servant. The filly left quickly, offered a deep curtsy and keeping her eyes cast to the ground. Along with the chamberlain, there were four other visitors in the throne room, each one lined up and in the shadows. They appeared as changelings, waiting for the most important visitor to arrive. They were brothers and a sister, Draccaria smiling at them as they fidgeted uncomfortably in bodies too small for comfort and too awkward for their tastes.
If only Silent Wing and Discord were here, then the whole brood would be present, less Scarheart. Draccaria was none too pleased the sibling with which she had argued the most with (and fought physically) was in a near vegetative state due to her father's constant tweaking and obsession with mind control. There was a time when she would have been pleased to see her youngest brother destroyed, but time and perspective had altered the feeling. She felt a bit different having seen him for the first time some years ago as she orchestrated her game from the shadows in a bid to shatter the most powerful houses to make her eventual rule of the kingdom easier to manage.
Chamberlain Phillip quietly entered. He was expected. The old changeling stallion moved with a shuffle, the past few weeks taking a toll on his ancient body. Running a nation essentially untenable had worn him to the bone and these days he had a permanent look of helplessness. Lady Draccaria had returned, saw his sorry condition and ordered him a few days rest. She actually liked the old backstabbing son of a buck. After a moment speaking with him, she also was aware his proverbial wind was broken, having given his all to betray his queen, placing the strange invisible machines in her food Draccaria promised him would not harm her but encourage her to be indifferent to certain things. Looking down at the three bodies, he took his time stepping over them, mindful to not get his hooves caught up in the bloody clothing. There had been a lot of dead bodies lately. What were three more? He sighed, tired of everything as he presented himself to Draccaria. Haunted eyes sunken deeply within their sockets gazed upon her without so much as a spark.
"You summoned me, Lady Draccaria?" he asked in a feeble voice, looking up at her over glasses he no longer bothered to clean. His form shook and trembled, but not from fear.
"Remember when you asked when the Master would arrive?" she asked him, wondering just how in the world he could still be standing. Phillip was a shambled mess of a stallion, wracked from guilt, Draccaria observed as if giving a study in changeling emotion in the aftermath of a complete mental collapse.
He tottered, eyes darting about in sudden wild fear. "Is he here?" he cried, trying to make himself as small as possible.
She soothed him with her voice, leaning forward, calling gently, "No, gentle servant of a grateful kingdom. Come. Stand beside me." She indicated the spot next to the throne where years ago a certain pale colt once sat while a beautiful queen once in a while would throw him little smiles, before her daughter was born.
"I am not worthy, my Lady," he simpered.
She smiled gently again, repeating the gesture as if coaxing a foal to take his first step.
The image of an innocent foundling appeared there, looking at him, once long ago wanting to be his friend. Phillip whimpered, the ghostly sight vanishing and leaving behind it the guilt and what might have been if the word had been no instead of yes. Obediently he ascended the three steps, felt the eyes of Children of Doom fall upon him. He feared them not.
If Chrysalis returns...
When Chrysalis returns...
A tear fell unnoticed down his muzzle as he hung his head, sitting, wanting it all to end. She had offered him a sunset before she left. She had loved him in her own way, seeing him as close a father figure as was possible to be viewed by changelings. Maybe she saw him as no more than a beloved dog who was obedient and faithful. Perhaps that love had allowed her to let this old fool linger about the court longer than he should have. Perhaps he should have warned her of the creature poisoning her, but each time the reflection in the mirror staring back at him told him it was for a good cause.
"Father will come when he decides. He is expected soon. For now, rest, old friend. Fifteen years with you has earned my admiration. Your reward will come soon," she promised, her voice strangely touched yet reserved. Draccaria knew the weight he carried on his heart. In a way, she could understand his pain, the hurt, the sense of betraying that which he had loved most.
Eyes shifted from the shriveled changeling to the large haunting room devoid of furniture save for the great stone throne at the far end from the massive doors. The high ceiling bore the soot from a thousand years of soot, intentionally kept that way to promote a sense of foreboding for those who sought an audience with the sitting queen. It was purposely done to give her a psychological advantage, as were the dark marble stones and red carpeting. Tapestries depicting the greatest victories, all led by a victorious queen. One such spot on the wall remained empty, a reminder Chrysalis had left for herself...
...and forgotten for the most part.
Now she was over there, having already defeated one of her peers in combat.
In the bare spot were lined up four changelings unknown to Phillip. They had arrived singly over the course of the day, speaking quietly with the Lady Draccaria while Phillip went about doing the duties he was still able to (which wasn't much). Always he would return, find another changeling speaking to the Lady. They all had strange golden eyes, like the Lady to whom he now thought of as his queen. Who else could she be? None of the matriarchs had opposed her seizing the throne. Eventually they tallied four in number, each one as different from the other yet all related by their eyes. They were offered drinks, of course, refusing to be seated and largely ignoring the few servants skittering about nervously like mice in a den of cats.
Blood Assault had been insulted by the illusion she had used. All had been impressed by the little Emerald queen's display of power and cunning, keeping a cool head and finding victory at the right time. All would have preferred to have seen Princess Celestia in battle.
"She would have been a valuable ally," noted one of the golden eyed changelings with a hiss, noting her lingering eyes upon the bare wall. Apex was a clever dragon, working in Canterlot and taking a moment to be here at his father's summons for this meeting. The voice like scraping claws upon steel echoed in the great throne room. The acoustics turned his echoes into lingering whispers, as if possessed.
Blood Assault snorted. He was the large changeling stallion, his form as tall as Myzanum's but far less massive. Sleek and powerful, he was clad in black armor of his own magic design. When he spoke, the room rumbled like a distant avalanche. "Father knew she was too dangerous to trust. Besides, she had selected her to raise our youngest brother," he growled, his words slow and thoughtful.
"Youngest half of a brother," corrected Tantibus, the middle sized changeling stallion in a brown hooded cloak. His voice was normal - for a changeling. Charged with keeping tabs on the wild changelings, he viewed his job as the most boring. But he would soon have his fun as a certain airship approached his territory. "The other half lies in Canterlot. The glue floats about the very air to bind them." He was the equivalent to Luna in terms of what he could do in dreams. Also known as the Night Dragon, he looked forward to confronting the Princess of the Moon. Soon.
Apex snorted. "Too bad Discord is not here. We never get together like this."
"He abandoned our cause long ago," Draccaria spoke out firmly. "He serves only himself. Father moved him out of the way to watch over the Topaz Queens." She did concede his point with a nod.
"Don't forget Prophet." The last of the gathered brood spoke. She was the smallest of them all, a changeling mare. Her voice was a harsh whisper, rasping. "The drunk requires a drinking partner. What better one than Discord? The two hate each other." Dreadsong was the mistress of song, her music capable of shattering eardrums and driving her enemies to madness.
"Nevermind our reluctant bearer of future sight," Draccaria announced to them as she straightened herself. "He tells us nothing. He speaks to none save children."
"I understand they were the first children he had laid eyes upon since our smallest of brothers came screaming into this world." Apex scratched an itch on his neck. "What's his name this time? Silent Wing?"
"Who gave him that name?" wondered Tantibus curiously. "The bug witch from this palace?"
"They're not bugs, you idiot," sighed Draccaria, rolling her eyes. "They have bug-like characteristics, but they're mostly ponies with natural armor."
"But they lay eggs. Ponies give birth to live young."
"Really? Since when?" Draccaria stared hard at her stubborn brother. Tantibus always wanted to argue changelings were more insectoid than equine. "They hatch a couple of weeks after being laid, depending on the sex and they do need to be nursed like mammals."
"Bug armor," he insisted, tapping a hoof against Blood Assault's chitin.
Dreadsong cleared her throat apologetically. "Changelings are warm-blooded."
Tantibus glared at her, but clamped his mouth shut.
"You all have a little changeling in you, my children," announced a voice from the shadows all around them. "Very quaint to hear you argue a moot point."
Phillip found himself cringing towards Draccaria, trembling violently as he felt the presence of a vast power not bothering to suppress itself. He could feel the emotions of the dragons, all fearing the monster drawing up seemingly from every shadow in the room, gathering up as a patch of darkness at the center. Up rose the red eyed Alicorn, with his midnight black coat, a living nightmare. Phillip could also sense a little contempt from Draccaria, something resembling a twisted form of love from the others. Fanaticism, he realized.
Draccaria was the chink in the armor here, he realized, quickly turning his eyes to her. She caught his look, arched a brow at him and shook her head. "To answer your question, Tantibus," she said, turning to her brother as Flamespyre was still materializing, "the answer is yes. Chrysalis did name him Silent Wing."
"After so many thousands of years," rasped Flamespyre as he stepped from the shadowed circle on the floor, "you all still behave like children to each other." He observed the room, recognizing it and letting out a grunt. Flamespyre turned to his children, amused at the forms they had chosen. They bowed reverently to him. Finally his eyes settled on Draccaria.
She did not bow, but remained seated in her throne, gazing at him coolly. It was a challenge, open and defiant. Flamespyre thought she looked adorable trying to assert authority. Nor did he mind, as he already knew what she had in planned. Children and their little schemes.
"You look lovely, my daughter," he told her as he approached the throne in long, swift strides.
He paused long enough to look at the bodies, arching a curious glance at them before noting the changeling form on the throne shrugging impishly.
"Thank you," she answered as she allowed him to kiss her cheek. For a moment they held each other's eyes, locking in a mental struggle with each other before he pulled away with a wicked smile. Draccaria was visibly shaken by whatever she had seen in his singular gaze.
"Report, my children," he began, stepping down and pacing before his gathered brood.
Phillip drew closer to Draccaria, his old and failing body quivering as he could feel the overpowering sense of superior pride emanating from the ancient creature assuming the form of an Alicorn.
"Chrysalis is a pain in the butt," grunted Blood Assault. "She keeps going back and forth between Canterlot and the front while Princess Celestia feigns illness. They're on to us because Ivory Buttons here -" he flipped an indifferent hoof at Apex, "- got sloppy with his magic. She's in control again and she's removing the ponies he's got on his payroll."
Apex shrugged. "No matter. It was a distraction, anyways. I know my real purpose there."
Flamespyre nodded, pleased. "Interesting you took the initiative you took some nanos to stall her. Be wary of her. She may be crippled, but she still has her full power."
"Eh, I was bored and stole a page from Drac's little book of subterfuge and infiltration." Apex ground his fangs, contorting with exaggerated boredom. "Waiting on the word to be given shouldn't mean I'm not allowed some fun with your toys."
"I'd rather you ask next time before taking my things, Apex."
"Yes father. I'm sorry father."
"What else?" Flamespyre cast his eyes to Draccaria. "What have you planned?"
"Oh, the incident from a couple of years ago. You know my feelings towards your obsession with the little whelp, but I shouldn't really hold that against him should I?" The dragoness tossed her mane, mindful of her crown. She smoothed the front of her dress again.
"That's very logical of you," Flamespyre said with approval. "Hate me. I don't mind. I don't ask for you to love me, just do as I command. What have you in mind?"
"Finishing what I started for him then. I gave them reason to fear him. Now I will give them reason to scream during the last pitiful moments of their lives," Draccaria purred. Watching the colt's face when he found out the changeling filly had been murdered melted her heart enough to do something about it. Had it really been just a couple of short years passed already? Perhaps it was best what she had hoped would happen did not.
"Oh, yes, I remember the report you gave me. He will soon be shed of his mortal coil and assume his rightful place among you as one of you."
Apex cleared his throat. "Father?"
"Yes?"
"It came to my attention Princess Celestia has a hypothesis you intend to use the colt as a replacement body. Is this true? Do you covet what you built purposely in another form because you feared you could not control it?"
He was suddenly grabbed by an unseen force and bodily dragged in front of Flamespyre, his left eye ablaze. "No. It is not. Do not suggest such a thing in my presence. Ever. I am a monster. I am a destroyer of races. I have shattered this world twice because I refuse to give up on my greatest work. I might even be insane because of my obsession. But I will never take that power for myself. Only gods are meant to wield it." - he shook Apex violently - "Do I make myself perfectly understood, son? I know my limits."
"So you are trying to make a god," Dreadsong said, sucking in a sharp breath. "Why do we even need one, father?"
"Magic must be contained, my dear," Flamespyre replied as he released Apex from his grip. Tapping a hoof at an odd spot in the carpeting, the Dragonking regarded it curiously, wondering if it was an old blood stain or something else. "His whole purpose is to hold it and perhaps use it at my command. As for your claims a deity is in the works? No. This would imply I have the ability to alter the universe. I do not. No, he is a weapon with the sole purpose of keeping this world under my rule."
The faux changeling queen cried out, "Now you know why I grow irritable every time you want to pursue this course, father. I want us to succeed, to have the world, but we do not need a manufactured god! We are mighty in our own right! You are as powerful as any Alicorn! Why resort to giving us an idol who will want nothing to do with us? Silent Wing does not want worship. He wants to live a simple life. I have watched him grow." Draccaria shook her head, narrowing her eyes. "Despite what you think of him, despite what you might have given him in the past, you can't complete him as a project. She won't let you."
An uneasy silence fell across the room as her siblings held their collective breath, their eyes falling to Flamespyre as they wondered what he might do. He had listened to her impassively, even nodding at her points. Her father was polite, his blinking eye the only movement. The dragon in Alicorn form blended in and out of the darkness, finally turning his head at the throne, inhaling. There was an uncomfortable twitch of the ears at the mention of the colt's long forgotten birth mother. No, not forgotten. Never forgotten. The Dragonking felt a flitting pang of guilt, then shook his head the thought.
He replied, "I am prepared to admit defeat if it fails a third time and destroy him if necessary. I have one Alicorn already and will soon have a second." Flamespyre had long ago conceded his daughter's point of view, having even begun preparing to accept the possibility Silent Wing was not as he had hoped he would be. Turning his back to her, he stepped away, taking in the lovely artwork of the tapestries. "I will start again. There are still a few billion years left on this world to get it right. Manufacturing evolution is never easy. I have done well enough with seven children, each magnificent in their own right." He could feel them swell with pride, save Draccaria who simply glowered at him, completely unconvinced.
"He's in love with her, father," chirped Dreadsong suddenly. "With this Luna." She began stepping forward, lowering her head as if she thought she would get in trouble for speaking up.
"I beg your pardon?" Flamespyre asked, blinking his one eye in surprise. "Clarify that statement, if you please. I'm not sure I heard that right."
She cleared her throat. "Your son Silent Wing is in love with Princess Luna. My changeling spies watched him up to the moment they began to have withdrawals and made themselves useless."
"Not bad for six weeks," murmured Draccaria. "I wonder. Does this mean he got over his squeak?"
"He's too young for that," Flamespyre said dismissively. "He's fifteen and too young to be interested in a female."
"A fifteen year old male of any species is bound to notice pretty females," Dreadsong noted dryly.
"Technically he's over five thousand," added Apex with a grin.
"He's older than Luna," added Tantibus airily. "We should encourage him to date."
"You never pay attention to us, Father," complained Draccaria with a sigh. She rubbed her temples with a hoof and shook her head. "You get so involved with your work and want us all to do our parts, you never take a moment to just be a father." She glared at the black figure who had turned to regard her with a narrowed crimson eye. "You never take time to just be a father. That's all any of us ever wanted. Feel free to ask. Especially Scarheart." She paused, holding up a hoof before lowering her chin. Venomous sarcasm dripped from her voice as she hissed, "Oh, wait. He can't. You scrambled his brain so many times he's practically a drooling retard. Don't even get me started again on how you've regarded your youngest son's other half!"
Being dressed down by his opinionated daughter stirred the dragon's anger. She suddenly found her head exploding in pain the moment his left eye exploded with energy, flinging her back against the high backed throne. She ground her teeth, curling her lips in pain as she squeezed her eyes shut. Wave after wave of mental anguish assaulted her, thousands of needles piercing as trap jaws. Draccaria's body had gone stiff, little animal sounds gurgling from her throat.
Phillip reached out to her, patting her consolingly on the shoulder, his own mind declining during the conversation until he had gone senile. "That's quite all right, my Queen. Griffons are not easy to deal with," he said with a gentle smile.
Flamespyre seemed to notice Phillip for the first time and released his daughter. "What is this?" he demanded, staring at the old changeling.
The ancient stallion stared down his muzzled at Flamespyre. "Young fellow, I must ask you refrain from using such crude language before the queen. Remember where you are!" He puffed himself up poorly, as best as his frail frame could manage.
Flamespyre explored Phillip's mind, then withdrew quickly. "I see," he grunted, his tone softening slightly. "Let's move on to relevant topics. I understand we have a war we are winning. Let us make sure the right claw knows what the left is doing." He released his daughter, leaving her gasping in the aftermath of the horrors her mind had seen while under her father's mental assault.
He started with his eldest son, Blood Assault.
"How has your army recovered since the loss of Queen Alzaera?"
"She was a powerful queen, father," replied the giant. "Chrysalis did not kill her, but took her prisoner. I thought the old queen was formidable enough, but attempting an illusion on a changeling who is a mistress of illusion in her own right was a major miscalculation."
"That's too bad. Who is her replacement?"
Blood Assault snorted dimissively. "The daughter has ascended the throne. Queen Harmonia is young and unproven. I will not allow her to the front, despite changeling traditions for new queens to be blooded in battle. On top of that, she is pregnant."
"I swear you all take too much interest in your changelings," grumbled Flamespyre as he rolled his eye and shook his head. "So the advance continues? What of your ground forces? You've brought up your minotaur heavy infantry, haven't you?"
"Yes, father. They are very good against Earth ponies. No changeling can really match them on the ground, so the minotaurs are needed to clear out large cities like Manehatten. I'd rather we just bypass the city and press on to Phillydelphia."
Flamespyre nodded at this. "Very good. How are your reserves and supplies?"
"Supply trains are stretched. We're trying to keep them guarded by using our reserves to guard key points along the main routes." Blood Assault was not too happy to voice his frustrations, but he pressed by saying, "We keep getting resistance from the locals. Guerilla tactics. Nothing major yet, but if this keeps up, they're going to get bold and try something big and more disruptive. I'd like to bring up the Rubies to scour the conquered territories to stamp out the resistance."
The Dragonking sharply regarded Dreadsong. "Get him what he needs, keep those supplies going to the front."
"Yes, Father," she replied with a polite inclination first to him, then to Blood Assault. Her brother reciprocated the respect.
Flamespyre nodded, not displeased. Such things were expected in war. He had fought enough in his time. "Very good. We need to conserve our strength and start drawing out their heavy hitters."
"Phase four, then?" asked Apex excitedly.
"Yes. You may all show your hands and begin involving yourselves directly in the fighting. Do as you will, just remember the goal. Tantibus, you are to go after Luna as planned. Attack them a day from shore. Take Captain Myzanum with you to see if he can bring out a bit of the dragon in my Silent Wing. I understand the penalty for assaulting any queen has but one outcome."
"Consider it done, Father," said Tantibus with a grin. His horn glowed as he was dismissed with a wave of a hoof and a nod from Flamespyre. He blinked in a cloud of inky smoke, teleporting halfway around the world to prepare to meed his brother.
Flamespyre shifted attention to his eldest son. "Blood Assault, you will begin taking a personal interest in the front. Get involved. I want you to try and draw out Chrysalis."
"She may not come out, Father," said the big changeling indifferently. "If she does, she'll need help." It was a modest assessment. In his natural form, Blood Assault was the sort of dragon who preferred letting his fangs and claws do his fighting, not his magic. He might as well been no different from the regular dragon species, which was perfectly fine with him.
"Tappis and Tappaz have sent their assassin after the Emerald Queen. Let's see if she is successful. She should be striking soon."
Draccaria blanched. "Wraith?" she asked, having recovered from her father's chastisement. "She's mad. She serves a pair of mad queens." Not to mention just flat out disturbing to look upon. She had seen the twisted pale changeling once. It made her shudder with revulsion. "Those young guards around Chrysalis are formidable and dangerous. I doubt Wraith will succeed."
"She'll be an amusing distraction. Do not discount her, my daughter," Flamespyre said with a grin. "Infiltrators such as her are rare. She will be a challenge to our favorite queen. If she can eliminate her, so much the better. Let's see what happens."
"Do you still wish me to stay with you as you move the Topaz army into position?" Draccaria asked, shifting the subject. "They are all ready to go, their generals at your command."
"Good. What's the number on them?" Flamespyre asked.
"Around half a million."
"And the portal stablizers?"
"In place and in perfect working order."
"Very good. Excellent work."
"Thank you, father." Draccaria hinted insincerity, but a reproachful look from Flamespyre made her flinch.
"Very well, my children," he announced briskly, stomping a hoof and smiling. "It would appear all is moving as planned, with a few minor deviations. Let's put on the pressure and finish this war. I'll worry about my personal project after we have everything under our control." His eye swept over his brood, wondering which of them would fall. They were not invincible. He had his ideas, his thoughts. Flamespyre had not yet spoken his intentions for Princess Twilight Sparkle nor Princess Luna. Nor did he plan to. Fathers were allowed to keep some secrets from their children, after all.
Especially Draccaria. She would certainly object, having already harped incessantly of his experiments on Twilight Sparkle. As much as he despised his daughter, she was the most gifted of his children and could hold her own against him respectably. Should he use her against Celestia? It would be a good test to measure the power of her magic and see how it fares against a being who feeds off solar energy to feed her own magic.
"By the way," the Dragonking noted idly, his attention falling to the bodies on the floor. "What is with the unusual decor?"
"I'm planning to make a point to the five major houses," she replied, leaning on an elbow and resting her chin on her hoof. "What you see before you are the remains of three eldest daughters of three of the five. I could not get the other two because they are currently hiding in the mountains. Changelings on guard are difficult to fool when you try to use their own abilities against them. The counter spells they keep refreshing against infiltration are quite effective."
"Do not kill them," Flamespyre commanded tersely.
"What?" Draccaria blinked.
"I don't care what they did to your brother."
"Father!" she protested, sitting up.
"Hand them over to the mob, instead. Let changelings deal with changelings. What you did two years ago stretched the latitude I gave you in subverting the Emerald Kingdom. Just because Silent Wing happened to be under your nose did not mean you were to play the part of the vengeful sister. From what I understand, it's because of what you did he developed this fear of mares." Flamespyre spoke as if giving a lecture.
"He's afraid of losing another love and going berserk like that again," she said, almost ashamed of the aftermath after what she did. Almost.
"What a cruel thing to do to him," Dreadsong sniped, giggling. "Yet he's still managed to find love again. I think it's lovely." She assumed a dreamy expression.
"He'll probably be dead before he can do something about it," Apex snorted. "You might have stripped him down a bit much this time, Father." He turned to Flamespyre, tilting his head to one side. "I know why you split him in half, but he's so little and frail and...squishy now."
"We'll see," Flamespye said mysteriously.
"You're up to something, Father," Draccaria said with a tone of alarm.
"Yes. I am up to something. I am always up to something. There is always something to be up about." Flamespyre flicked his tail, his ears swiveling for a moment. "As for your little personal thing with a few matriarchs, you may speak to them. You may even torture them a little bit. But hand them over to the other changelings. If you're going to run this kingdom as you seem intent on, then give the masses something to love you about."
As they spoke, the other transformed dragons teleported from the room to resume their assigned duties. They gave their farewells to each other neutrally, though a couple of exchanges might have passed for genuine sibling affection. Glowing horns signaled the spell casting and within seconds of each other were gone, leaving Flamespyre and Draccaria alone with Phillip.
"Are we done holding court this afternoon, my Queen?" he asked her in his feeble voice. "I can see to it you are not disturbed if you wish a moment to yourself and this griffon." Squinting at Flamespyre, he wondered why this one had a red glowing eye. Griffons don't have red glowing eyes. "Most curious."
"Stay a bit longer, Phillip," she bade him warmly, reaching out with a hoof and lightly touching him on the shoulder. "We are almost done."
"What of your other guests? They seem to have fallen asleep." He indicated the three bodies at the foot of the throne. "I do believe that is Ursika from House Arachnidae. Such a disagreeable mare. Very rude."
"They're fine. Let them sleep a bit longer. Their families will be coming to retrieve them. No need to worry ourselves over things beneath us."
He beamed at her. "Quite right. Quite right. Would you and your guest like refreshments while you wait for the matriarchs to come and retrieve their family members?"
Draccaria nodded. "Why not? Send for one of the servants to do it."
"Yes, your Majesty."
Another changeling arrived from one of the side doors bearing a note on a silver tray elevated by her magic. She knelt before Draccaria and offered it within easy reach by hoof if the sitting dragon chose to do that. Taking the note and nodding the servant off, Draccaria read it. She smiled.
"Good. They are here."
"The matriarchs?" asked Flamespyre, amused.
She smiled at him wryly. "Indeed."
Refreshments were brought. Flamespyre sat next to his daughter opposite from Phillip and assumed a changeling form, nondescript and rather plain. He did not want to take from his daughter this moment she was savoring. Besides, this might be fun to see her deal with the mares and ultimately seal their fates.
"Send them in," she announced to Phillip. He nodded and walked slowly, stiffly, and painfully towards the doors.
"End him already," grunted Flamespyre in exasperation. "Put your pet down already. Look at him!"
"It's his last day, Father," she reassured him. "I want him to see the fruits of his labor before the last moments of his life pass before him. Even the way he is."
"As you wish."
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Excellent chapter, I love how you made Phillip have an emotional breakdown.
Draccaria has actual feelings and a backbone?
WOW. Girls got spunk. It's a shame that spunk will have to be shed upon the lovely floor. 
It's going to take a while to clean up.
3710830 Oh...her hatred for Flamespyre knows no bounds. Too bad she can't act out against her father. She would be a terrible opponent indeed for any who would fight her.
Think Celestia without the nice.
*Whistles quietly* Damn... And I thought my family had problems...
Hmm, so Flamespyre is the kind that can't stand when someone disagrees with him or something doesn't go just right. It'll be fun watching him lose his cool when things start to fall apart.