Ocellate

by Grimm

First published 14th of May, 2019

Ocellus never asked to be a queen. And when Thorax decides it's time for her to find a mate, Ocellus has to make a choice: the hive, or her own happiness?

Ocellus never asked to be a queen.

She never asked for responsibility, or duty, or to live under the shadow of her tyrant mother, Chrysalis, but that's what she was given anyway. Despite her misgivings, Ocellus always accepted her role, and she always agreed to whatever Thorax asked of her. She always did what she was told.

At least until Thorax decides Ocellus needs to find a mate to preserve the hive, and she wonders if being a queen is really worth it after all.

Maiden Flight

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m not sure, Thorax,” snapped Pharynx. “No one knows how this thing works. It’s already taken so much longer than a drone would.”

Thorax leaned forward on his throne, hooves grinding nervously against the vines enveloping it. “But you think it’s time?”

“As best as we can figure. It’s been more active than ever over the last couple of weeks, and one of the caretakers said he heard a crack this morning. We ran a few tests, and as far as we know, yes. She’s hatching.”

Thorax’s heart jumped a little. All this time, dwelling on what he and Chrysalis had done, weeks spent staring into the egg’s misty surface and wondering if his deal had been worth it or if this was just another of her tricks.

Either way, Thorax would finally have his answer.

“Then what in Tartarus are we waiting for?” Thorax asked, jumping to his hooves and striding off towards the egg chamber. Pharynx was quick to follow, marching smartly beside his brother, and for once Thorax was glad for his militaristic tendencies. They had no idea what was going to come crawling out of that egg, and if anyone could be counted on to take care of a threat to the hive, it was Pharynx.

The corridors stretched out before them, twisting and turning as they strode through the winding paths with well-trodden ease. Thorax had walked this route so many times, almost daily since they’d moved the egg down into the depths for safety, and by now it was second-nature. Soon they were well below the living areas, and into what was ostensibly the dungeon, although Thorax didn’t like to think of that way anymore. Certainly it was close to where they had kept Chrysalis during her incarceration, but that was an extreme circumstance. Desperate times, and all that.

The memories flew up again at the thought – flashes of glistening fangs, green eyes in the darkness. Glinting, rattling chains, the feel of her around him as he plunged into her and gave her exactly what she wanted. He shook the images away. Not now. Not ever.

Pharynx’s scouts had no knowledge of Chrysalis’ activities since her escape, and equally little idea where she’d ended up. She was a ghost again, and Thorax hoped it would stay that way. He wasn’t naive enough to believe it, though; Chrysalis never gave up. He didn’t think she knew how.

They arrived at a large, onyx doorway, flanked either side by hoof-picked guards, well-trained and sworn to utmost secrecy. They saluted as Thorax approached, and as he went to open the door he noticed that Pharynx was holding back.

“What’s the matter?”

“Quarantine,” Pharynx said. “Minimal personnel inside reduces the risk of a breach. If it comes to it, we can seal the chamber and the only casualties will be anyone inside.”

“So, me?”

Pharynx at least had the decency to look a little sheepish. “You know it’s the right thing to do. I don’t want it to come to that, of course I don’t, but if whatever’s inside the egg is dangerous…”

Monarchs have to make sacrifices for the good of their subjects.

“If it’s dangerous, then you do whatever needs to be done,” Thorax said, resting his hoof on Pharynx’s shoulder. “I’m entrusting the hive’s safety to you.”

Pharynx nodded slowly. “I will,” he agreed, reluctantly.

“I’ll be fine,” Thorax assured him. “I promise.”

Thorax had no idea if it was a promise he’d be able to keep, but he certainly hoped so. The false confidence made him feel a little better, at least.

He stepped through the door, and it was quickly shut behind him again with a boom of colliding stone. The egg chamber was large, circular, and mostly empty. The egg itself rested on a rough stone pedestal in the centre, glowing ominously as Thorax approached ever so carefully, as if the egg might be listening.

For all he knew, it was.

Inside, through the murky green mist, Thorax could make out the same dark shape as always. Already it was much larger, bigger than any newly hatched drone, and almost as big as the egg’s shell would allow for. If he peered close enough he could just about make out the form of four legs, but that was all. Hardly anything to go off.

The shape squirmed and wriggled, even more than usual, and Thorax flinched a little. It really was time. He dropped down to his haunches beside the egg, watching, waiting. And then, closing his eyes, he began to feed it.

Love emanated out of every inch of him as he directed it towards the egg. Let it taste him, feed on him, let every feeling of goodwill flow forth. You are loved, you are welcome, you are our saviour. You are our queen. All these thoughts and more, distilled into raw love and shared with the egg.

And the egg ate.

No matter how much Thorax gave, it ate, it devoured, swallowing up every ounce of love. Too much, more than Thorax could ever spare. And, just as he was about to give up, exhausted, he heard it. So quiet that at first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but then another one, louder. A cracking sound, the sound of splitting shell.

A thin fracture began to spear down the front of the egg, lancing downwards in a jagged, uneven line. Thorax held his breath. Please don’t be a trap. Please let my hunch be right, for the changelings’ sake. Let them live.

With a horrific crunch, the egg splintered and shattered, pieces sent flying as it broke apart, showering Thorax with fragments of shell and slime from inside as it exploded outwards. Another difference from drone eggs, he thought, wiping the ooze off his carapace. And then Thorax’s gaze was drawn inexorably to the pedestal, or more accurately to what was now lying on top of it.

He stepped forward tentatively, better to see the small being that lay there, still damp from the egg’s innards, drawing the first real breaths of its life. It was unmistakable.

A queen.

Chrysalis had been telling the truth. Whatever her motivation, whatever her reasons, she had kept her word. The changeling before him now was more slender than drone hatchlings, but taller, almost lanky, in the same way Chrysalis herself was. And, most importantly, it was female. A new queen, embodying all the hope for the changelings’ continued existence. A clean slate.

No longer scared, Thorax gently lifted the newborn into his hooves, holding her close and smiling as she gazed up at him in that kind of awed wonder that only fresh hatchlings were capable of.

“Hi there,” he murmured, and the little changeling squeaked in approval. “My daughter,” he said. “My queen. You’re going to do great things, you know that?”

The hatchling burbled happily, reaching up a tiny hoof to try and bop his snout.

“I have a name for you,” he told her, and the hatchling giggled in response. “Do you want to hear it?”

She stared up at him, so innocent, so unassuming. He couldn’t imagine why he’d ever been scared – she was his daughter, and she was beautiful. “Ocellus,” he said, a lump in his throat. “Your name is Ocellus, and you are going to save us all.”

***

If there was one thing Ocellus hated, it was responsibility.

Well, hated was a strong word. ‘Terrified of’ may have been closer. For all her life, for always, she’d had Responsibility to worry about, with a capital R. Most parents would tell their kids they were going to be special when they grew up. Certainly all her friends had agreed it was the case, so she had evidence to prove it.

Most parents did not tell their daughters they were going to single-hoofedly save their entire species. That was Responsibility. That was terrifying.

Ocellus never asked to be born a queen. If she’d been offered the choice, she was pretty sure she’d have turned it down. Her father constantly told her what an honour it was, how special she was, how she was going to do great things. Her father also consistently had acid reflux from the stress of ruling, which somewhat undermined his assertions.

And he didn’t even have half of the expectations that she had on her shoulders. Yes, he had to be a good king, yes, he had to lead the changelings through their tumultuous new identity, but she would have to do all that when she ascended to the throne, too, and she’d still have all the extra Responsibility of being a queen to worry about. Queens, as it turned out, had quite a reputation among changelings.

Thorax had never hidden the truth of her mother from Ocellus. She appreciated that, at least; he could have lied about it or glossed over Chrysalis’ actions, it wouldn’t have been hard. But knowing that you were the offspring of a tyrant queen was still a hard thing to come to terms with. Ocellus often wondered if that’s what queens were supposed to be like, if one day she would just wake up and… be evil. She’d discussed that with her friends, too, and they’d laughed and said she had nothing to worry about, that they’d snap her out of it if it happened.

Ocellus was still scared it might.

She didn’t want to be a tyrant, any more than she wanted to be a queen in the first place. Sometimes she wondered how in Equestria Thorax had even ended up with Chrysalis. All the rumours and stories she’d heard had painted the old monarch in such a fearsome light, and everything she knew about her father painted him in… Well, the opposite. She never asked, though. It wasn’t the sort of thing a daughter could really ask her father, and she certainly didn’t want the squicky details.

And so she simply accepted the truth and tried not to think about it. Tried as hard as she could to not become her mother. She’d sworn that to herself. By all accounts, Chrysalis was a monster, and Ocellus didn’t think she could bear to become one herself.

But tyrant or no, she was still queen, and that meant things that other changelings didn’t have to worry about. There had been her sharing ceremony, for starters. Having to stand in front of her entire hive as she got her colours, sharing her love for the first time. A huge event, a great moment. She’d been so young, and she’d stumbled over her lines as she stared out at the enraptured crowd. And then she hadn’t even been able to share at first. It had been so much harder than her father told her it would be. He made it sound so easy. She supposed it was, now she was used to it, but for her first time to be in front of hundreds of staring changelings? It had been anything but easy. When she’d finally felt her love pour forth and fill the chamber, when the sheer energy of it had lifted her high up above the gathered crowd as her carapace morphed and shifted from jet black to pale blue, she knew she was supposed to feel joy. It was supposed to be a moment she would treasure and fondly reminisce about for the rest of her life.

But in the moment, she’d only felt relief. She hadn’t messed up. She hadn’t let everyone down.

She’d met her Responsibilities.

And then there’d been Ponyville and the School of Friendship. Although Ocellus had made friends there that would last a lifetime, at first she couldn’t help but feel like a political bargaining chip, an offering of value to appease the ponies. Here is our queen, she is in your care. You’ll trust us now, right? See how much we trust you? It had taken a long time to forgive her father for that one. As far as he knew, she was still mad at him for it.

She still kinda was.

But then that was what being Queen of the Changelings was, wasn’t it? Responsibility. Duty. The worst thing about being Queen was that it came before everything else she was allowed to be. Even in her name: Queen Ocellus. The title came first, it always came first. Be whoever you want to be, as long as you always do the things you need to do. As long as you’re always ready to live up to your Responsibility, as long as you’re Queen first and Ocellus second.

And now Responsibility had brought her back to the hive, although Thorax hadn’t yet told her why. That worried her – he was normally so forthright, even when he knew she wouldn’t like it. But when the changelings had come to pick her up from Ponyville with no warning, Thorax hadn’t even been among them. Uncle Pharynx had, but he wouldn’t tell her anything either, and trying to persuade Pharynx to do anything against orders was an exercise in futility. Ocellus knew that as well as anyone. Maybe when she actually took the throne he’d listen to her, but, until Thorax abdicated, Pharynx would be his brother’s changeling through and through.

It was even worse once they arrived at the hive. Thorax hadn’t even come to greet her, and she wasn’t permitted to visit him. Her own father, and he was hiding from her. This wasn’t like him either, and it only made that deep unease even worse. Something important was happening, and for some reason (almost certainly because she wouldn’t like it) they were keeping her out of it.

Or at least they had been, because today Pharynx had arrived in her quarters and informed her she had an audience with ‘the king’. And now here she was, standing outside the throne room and wondering just what her Responsibility was supposed to be this time, just what had made Thorax so concerned he couldn’t even visit his daughter to say hello before dropping this on her.

The doors opened, and with a nervous swallow she stepped through. The soft clop of her hooves against stone was the only sound as she approached the throne, painfully aware of all the changelings that lined the sides of the shattered chamber, watching her in fraught anticipation. It was the sharing ceremony all over again – worse, because she didn’t even know what they were here to see this time.

The great throne loomed at the far side of the open hall, Thorax himself seated upon it as he waited for her. It always seemed too big for him, and today even more so somehow. Ocellus gave him a nervous smile as she reached it, but he didn’t return it.

“My Queen,” he said, bowing his head slightly.

“Hi, Dad.”

Beside the throne, Pharynx winced a little at her words, and a small flare of righteous rebellion struck up in her chest at the sight. He always hated it when she wasn’t ‘proper’, when she wasn’t formal enough. When she didn’t call her father ‘King’.

“Thanks for coming,” Thorax said. “I’m sorry we had to bring you back here, but I’m afraid this couldn’t wait.”

“It’s okay,” she said, feeling the stare of the gathered changelings burning into the back of her head. “What is it?”

“We have-” Thorax caught himself. “I have decided that it’s time you began your true duties as queen.”

Ocellus blinked. “Wait, you mean…?”

“It’s been too long since we had new hatchlings. The hive’s nurseries are empty.”

“Dad, I-”

“And so we’ve- I’ve decided that it’s time for your coming of age ceremony. It’s time for your maiden flight.”

A weight dropped out through Ocellus’ stomach at Thorax’s words. “But Dad, you said it wouldn’t be-”

“You’re our queen,” Thorax interrupted again, shifting uncomfortably on the throne. “The changelings need you, and the hive needs new drones.”

“But-”

“Ocellus, please.” There was an almost begging note to his voice. “We’ve talked about this.”

Everything was falling horribly into place. No wonder he hadn’t told her why he’d brought her back to the hive, no wonder he’d hidden from her. Thorax knew exactly what he was asking of his daughter, and knew just as well as she did that it wasn’t fair. “I know we have,” she said, “but it wasn’t supposed to happen until I was ready.”

“You are ready.” The corners of Thorax’s mouth twitched as he said it. “And the hive needs its queen.”

“No, you promised,” said Ocellus, and she could feel a lump rise in her throat, her eyes starting to sting a little at the corners. “You promised I’d get to say when. You promised I’d get to choose.”

“I know I did,” her father said, and there was a terrible pity in his voice. He couldn’t even look at her now. “But we need-”

“You promised,” Ocellus repeated, tears flowing freely down her cheeks now. It was all she had to fall back on, the only argument she had.

“Ocellus, I-”

She didn’t let him finish. There was nothing he could say, nothing that would make this betrayal of his daughter okay. It would just have been more empty words, more talk of duty, of Responsibility. And so rather than let him speak, Ocellus turned and fled the throne room, ignoring Thorax’s calls after her as she scrunched her eyes shut to try and hold in the tears.

***

The Maiden Flight.

She’d always known it would come, one day. It was another Responsibility – the only one, really. Everything else was just a build-up to this, the one thing a queen was supposed to do: make more changelings.

It had hung over her like an encroaching storm cloud her entire life, the knowledge that it was her role, her duty, her purpose. She was a changeling queen, and a changeling queen laid eggs. That was what they did. That was what she was supposed to do, and the maiden flight was the beginning of all of that.

She would pick a mate out of all the changeling drones, they would fly together, and then he would-

Ocellus shuddered. Don’t even think about it. She wasn’t a prude or anything, but the idea was all too much right now. She wouldn’t even know where to start with picking a mate. There were hundreds of drones, and all would be eager to bed the new queen first, to rut her and give Ocellus her first brood.

No, you’re still thinking about it.

But how was she ever supposed to choose? At random? That wasn’t very queenly; she was supposed to ensure that her offspring would be the strongest, most successful changelings possible. That meant picking the best drone she could, somehow finding one out of the entire hive.

Yeah, right.

And even if she did find a mate, even if she did go on her maiden flight with him, she would have to let him fuck her and breed her, and Ocellus definitely wasn’t ready for that. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready for that, responsibility be damned. She didn’t know what it felt like to have a bellyful of fertilised eggs, or what it felt like to lay them, but she doubted it was pleasant.

Then there was the act itself. Sometimes she’d caught peeks of drones when they’d been… exposed. Out of their sheath. It just seemed to happen sometimes, and she knew she was supposed to ignore it like everyone else did. But she’d seen them, and she knew what it was for, where it was supposed to go, and that knowledge was terrifying.

She wasn’t even sure how it would fit.

Ocellus sighed and buried her face further into her pillow, and wished for the millionth time that she’d just been born a drone so she wouldn’t have to worry about it. A soft knock at the door startled her out of her reverie, but her surprise was quickly replaced by disappointment as she heard who was there.

“Ocellus, can I come in?” Thorax’s voice came through the door, muffled by the stone.

“No.”

Of all the changelings, Thorax was the one she wanted to see the least right now. Her father had always been so supportive, so understanding, until today. Yes, he pushed her towards her Responsibilities, yes, he would guide her and teach her to be a queen, but it still always felt like he was on her side, like things were still her choice and in her control. She did the sharing ceremony because he told her she should, went to Ponyville because he told her she should, but Ocellus had still always felt like she could have refused and he would have respected her wishes. That illusion – so carefully shaped by Thorax – had been thoroughly shattered now.

“If you don’t let me in I’m just going to talk to you through the door anyway,” he said. “And neither of us want that.”

It was better than having to look at him.

Then again, if her father was going to try and justify himself to her, maybe it was getting off too easy if he didn’t have to look her in the eye as he said it. If he was going to be this awful, she at least wanted him to feel as guilty as he should.

“Fine,” she said, pulling herself upright so she could glower appropriately at him as he pushed open the door.

“Hi,” he said, lamely.

Ocellus said nothing, content to watch him squirm for the right words.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eventually. “I shouldn’t have dropped all this on you with no warning, that wasn’t fair. I just… I didn’t know how else to tell you.”

“Any other way at all?” Ocellus asked, pointedly, and Thorax winced.

“I know, I messed up. I’m sorry.”

There was a pregnant

STOP THINKING ABOUT IT

pause. As the silence stretched on, Ocellus realised that was it. That was Thorax’s grand apology, or what he thought amounted to one. There was nothing else forthcoming.

“And?” she asked.

He gave her a quizzical look. “And what?”

“And I don’t have to do it, right?”

“Oh.”

Ocellus could tell from that single syllable what was coming next.

“Look, honey, I-”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. He didn’t get to use pet names right now.

Thorax flinched again, then took a long breath. “I don’t have a choice here, Ocellus. The changelings are scared, and I have to take action. They need their queen. We all need you.”

“You need me to bend over for a drone and get impregnated,” she said, bluntly, enjoying the instant grimace on her father’s face.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Why not? It’s true. That’s all they want from me.”

Thorax shook his head. “There’s more to it than that.”

“No, there’s not,” she insisted. “You like to imagine there is because then you don’t have to think about what you’re asking me to do. But you’re not the one who has to get rutted. You’re not the one who has to lay eggs and become a… a… broodmare just because of who you were born.”

“But I would,” Thorax said. “If there was any way I could take that burden from you, I’d do it in a wingbeat. You know I would.”

“It’s easy to say when it’s impossible,” muttered Ocellus, rolling over so she didn’t have to look at him anymore. Seeing Thorax justify himself didn’t bring any of the satisfaction she’d hoped it would. It just made her feel hollow – he was the one changeling who should have been on her side, and he didn’t care.

She felt the end of the bed sink down as Thorax rested himself against it, but she didn’t turn over. He could sit there and think of anything under Celestia’s sun to try and convince her, but they both knew he was wrong. He didn’t get the privilege of lying to her face.

“A long while back, I had to make a choice,” he said. “The changelings were on the brink of civil war. We were queenless, we were alone, and we were facing our own extinction. Lots of us wanted to surrender to Chrysalis again, but even more of us knew she’d never take us back. Not after we’d changed.”

This wasn’t what Ocellus had expected. She’d been waiting for cajoling, pleading, bargaining. Not whatever this was. Thorax’s voice was dull, contemplative. Sad.

“And then we caught the old queen out in the snow, just beyond the Crystal Empire. She didn’t come quietly. Not everyone we sent out to capture her came back.” He paused a moment, and Ocellus didn’t want to know what he was remembering. “We brought her back,” he continued eventually, “and we kept her here, in the dungeons. I tried everything I could think of to persuade her to save us. I tried everything to show her that our way of life was better, that we didn’t need to be aggressive, that we could share love instead of ripping it out of the ponies by force. She disagreed.

“I almost gave up, but eventually I was able to make a deal with her. Chrysalis would give us a new queen, as part of an exchange. A fair trade.”

“What did she want?” Ocellus asked.

“Me,” Thorax replied, calmly. “In return for a new queen, she wanted to kill me. Revenge, for taking her hive from her in the first place.”

“And you said yes?”

Thorax nodded. “I shouldn’t have, but we were desperate. I was desperate. Funnily enough, if Chrysalis had been more trusting she would have gotten exactly what she wanted. Instead, she waited until I’d- Well, until she had the eggs she needed, and then she took advantage of the moment to hypnotise me and flee, assuming that I’d go back on my word.” He turned to her and gave her a strange smile. “But, as we found out later, she’d left an egg behind. Whatever her reasons, she’d given us a queen after all. She’d given us you.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that story?” Ocellus asked, frowning.

Her father shrugged. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you. It’s hard enough to be queen. So much responsibility already, you didn’t need to know what it cost.”

“But now I do?”

“Now I think it might help to know what’s at stake.”

There was a long silence. “Okay,” she said, eventually. “I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

Thorax seemed completely taken by surprise by her acquiescence, but Ocellus simply nodded.

He rested a hoof on her shoulder, and she resisted the urge to flinch away. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll gather up some possible suitors, and you can choose whomever you want.”

She nodded again, and was even able to manage a smile this time, because she knew the truth. It didn’t matter who she picked, now; none of it mattered. Ocellus had made her decision, and she wasn’t going to be the queen Thorax wanted her to be.

Forget the throne, forget all of this – Ocellus was going to leave it all behind. Thorax’s story may have been an attempt to convince her, but all it had done was give her a plan.

***

“The Maiden Flight,” Thorax announced to the gathered changelings crowding the throne room once more. “Traditionally undertaken by matured queens looking to start a new hive, flying out into the world with a drone beside them, searching for a new home.” He gave Ocellus a proud smile, and she did everything she could to seem genuinely pleased.

Her selected ‘mate’ stood beside her, his chest puffed out with pride, head held high. He was tall, well-built, his chitin pale yellow, eyes striking red. Ocellus had already forgotten his name. It started with a T, she was pretty sure. Or was it a P?

“Tonight we honour that tradition with a new maiden flight, as my daughter, Ocellus, and her chosen mate, Thrips-”

That was it.

“-undertake a flight together to celebrate our survival. And when the queen returns, our hive will be stronger than ever.”

There were loud cheers at that, and a little surge of guilt rose up inside Ocellus at the sound. They were all so hopeful, so relieved, and she was going to stomp all over that. But then that guilt was replaced by cold anger, as she chided herself for even feeling that way. It was their fault, not hers, as they tried to force her into a life of mating and laying eggs, nothing more than a tool for the hive. Ocellus didn’t want to be queen if that’s what it meant. She refused.

The only slight regret was that she wouldn’t get to say goodbye to those she cared about. Even Thorax, especially Thorax, although her farewell to him would have been much sharper than he would have appreciated. But no, she had to act natural for now, act like she was ever going to set hoof in this hive again.

Thorax stepped up to her, and his obvious pride only made another little pang stab at her heart. She didn’t think he’d ever looked at her like that before, and he certainly wouldn’t again after this. “Fly safe, Ocellus,” he said, and then, quiet enough that only she could hear: “Thank you.”

She gave him a brief hug, trying not to show that it would be the last one she ever gave him, and then turned to the drone beside her. He bowed low, too low, almost brushing the floor in his reverence.

“I am ready, my queen,” he said, and Ocellus had to fight the urge to roll her eyes.

Instead, she nodded, flared her wings, and launched into the night sky above her, enjoying the sudden rush of cool air as she escaped the heat and crowd. Raucous applause followed her, hooves against stone, and then came the thrum of wings beside her as Thrips joined her in the air and together they sailed across a blanket of stars.

She couldn’t help but wonder if they were supposed to do acrobatic stuff – that was what mating flights were usually like, wasn’t it? But tonight she was flying with purpose, and so she focused and beat her wings harder, flying out across the kingdom so far below them as fast as she could. She could see Thrips struggling to keep up beside her, see the confused expression on his face, and a small but savage thrill ran through her at the sight.

“My queen,” he spluttered against the rushing wind, “do we have to fly so fast?”

“A good mate should be able to keep up with his queen, don’t you think?” she retorted, laughing a little despite herself as he tried to bow his head again mid-flight and almost lost his balance.

She took a deep breath, relishing the fresh air, and double-checked the stars to make sure she was flying the right way. They flew for a long time, until her wings started to ache, and even Thrips was beginning to falter. “Perhaps we should be heading back now, my queen?” he gasped.

“Soon,” she assured him. “We’re almost there.”

“There?”

Ocellus didn’t reply. She’d spotted the edge of their destination in the distance, a dark line cutting across the landscape. The edge of the forest. She pressed on, ignoring the burn in her wings, the panting breaths of the drone beside her, until finally they broke over the top of the trees and she began to descend. Thrips followed, no more questions, or maybe it was just too much effort to ask. Either way, he remained silently by her side until they finally dropped under the treeline and into the forest below.

Branches whipped past as she ducked and weaved through the trees, some catching at her chitin with a sharp sting, but she barely even felt them. She was concentrating. Thrips was strong, fast; Ocellus would never have lost him in the open air. But she had one thing he didn’t – she was smaller than him. More agile. She could hear the cracking of branches behind her as he failed to dodge ones she’d already passed. Even more encouragingly, as they flew lower and lower the cracking sounds grew more and more distant as Thrips dropped back.

A glance behind, twenty feet away. And then twenty-five, thirty. Soon he would lose her, and she would be gone. Thorax and the rest of the changelings would never find her, she could go anywhere, be anyone. She’d find some way to get back in touch with her friends, to make her return to Ponyville without being caught, but that could come later. For now, she had to focus on getting away.

Another look back at Thrips dwindling behind her, a desperate expression on his face as he ducked and weaved through the branches. “My queen!” he pleaded, wincing as another one snapped against his face. “Please slow down, I can’t-”

He never finished his sentence. Something slammed into his side with a sickening thud, his eyes going wide in panic before he tumbled down into the darkness of the forest below. Ocellus hesitated. This was her chance, her moment. Freedom, so tantalisingly close.

But she hadn’t meant for Thrips to get hurt. Had he hit a tree trunk? A particularly big branch? It almost seemed like something had crashed into him, and it was a long way to fall, even for a changeling. And that sound.

She imagined him down on the forest floor, maybe with a broken wing, or hoof, begging for help. She imagined him lying there, wondering where his queen was, why she’d led him out here only to leave him to die. Wondering what he’d ever done to deserve that.

Ocellus could never have something like that on her conscience, even if it cost her escape. With a grimace of reluctance, she turned and soared down after him through a gap in the trees towards a small clearing.

The forest floor was so much darker than the upper branches, only the barest hints of moonlight reaching down this far, and it was hard to make out anything as she alighted against the soft dirt. “Thrips?” she called. “Are you okay?”

A groan came in response, a good few feet away behind the trees, and another knot twisted up her stomach. He sounded bad.

“I’m coming, hang on.” She started towards the groan, but she never reached him before a green flash erupted from behind the trees, making her squint against the sudden brightness. A strangled yell of pain and horror screeched through the air – Thrips, it must have been – and then it was abruptly cut off as the burst of light vanished, leaving the forest even darker than it had been before.

The air felt so cold, all of a sudden, the trees around Ocellus pressing in against the clearing from all sides. “Thrips?” she asked the darkness.

Only silence.

And then, a voice, one that was definitely not Thrips. This one was feminine. Predatory. Hungry.

“You’re a long way from home, little bug,” said the darkness.

The voice hissed with menace in every syllable, echoing around her so that it was impossible to tell where it was coming from. She didn’t even want to run, lest she charge headfirst into the maw of whatever beast was waiting.

“Who are you?” she demanded, with far more courage than she felt.

Mocking laughter rang out through the clearing at that, but no other answer.

“Listen to me,” Ocellus said, trying to sound confident. She didn’t feel confident. “I am Ocellus, Queen of the Changelings. If anything happens to me, my father will-”

“I know exactly what you are,” the voice murmured. It sounded as though it was right behind her, but when she spun on her hooves there was only more darkness there. “Or at least, what you claim to be.”

Ocellus scanned the trees, and she swore she saw some dark shape moving between the trunks. But then it was gone again, and she couldn’t even be sure she’d seen it at all. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You call yourself a queen?” The darkness laughed mirthlessly again. “A queen is strong, a queen is fearless. You are just a scared little bug.”

A jolt of indignation shot through Ocellus. “What would you even know about being a queen?”

There was a glint of light in the gloom, a sliver of moonlight reflecting off grinning fangs. “Everything.”

Coronation

It all clicked into place, and Ocellus shrank back a little at the realisation. She’d been scared before, but now her legs shook fiercely, fear rooting her in place as panic sunk its sharp teeth into her. “Chrysalis,” she breathed.

“Oh, very perceptive, little bug,” murmured the darkness. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

“What did you do to Thrips?” she demanded.

For the first time, there was a moment of uncertainty before Chrysalis spoke from the shadows she still lurked in. “What’s a ‘Thrips’?”

“The drone I was with. If you hurt him-”

“You remember the names of your drones?”

“Of course I do,” said Ocellus, trying to ignore the fact she’d forgotten Thrips’ back at the hive.

“Pointlessness,” Chrysalis scoffed. “Knowing his name didn’t save him. And if you can’t protect a single drone, how could you ever protect an entire hive?”

Another pang of guilt for Thrips’ fate, but how could Ocellus possibly have known what was waiting out here? Or whom. “Maybe I don’t want to protect the hive,” she muttered. “Maybe I don’t want to be queen.”

“How rich,” the shadows drawled. “Blessed with the most powerful heritage in Equestria, and you don’t want it? I’m so disappointed in you, little bug – you take too much after your father.”

“No, I don’t,” Ocellus insisted. “That’s the problem.”

“Oh? And is that why you’re all the way out here, fleeing from your mate on your own maiden flight?”

Ocellus almost dropped to her hindquarters in surprise. “You know about that?”

“I still have some sympathisers in my old hive, after all. More than you would imagine. I’ve heard all about your argument with the false king, and your sudden change of heart.” The glinting grin returned. “Or not so changed, it seems.”

“He wants me to start living up to my duty,” Ocellus muttered.

“Duty? You are a queen, daughter. You do not have duties.”

“I need to keep the hive strong. I need to…” Ocellus hesitated. “Breed,” she finished, quietly.

“Little bug, you don’t understand. The hive is your hive. The drones are your drones. They need you far more than you need them, and they know it.”

Chrysalis’ eyes glowed in the darkness, piercing green.

“They’ve collared you,” the old queen said. “Put you on a leash, shackled you with words like ‘responsibility’ and ‘duty’. Your father knows how much they need you, and he can’t afford to have you realise it, too. So he’s kept you complacent, obedient.” Chrysalis’ voice lowered to an outraged snarl. “He hasn’t even given you your throne.”

“He will, when I’m older.”

“When he knows you’ll do exactly what he wants. When he knows you’ve truly forgotten what you are, what you were born to be.”

Chrysalis finally stepped out from between the trees – as tall and imposing as Ocellus had always imagined her: jet black chitin, pitted legs, a viciously curved horn that seemed almost sword-like. And yet there was a lithe gracefulness in her movements Ocellus would never have expected. She’d heard of Chrysalis’ cruelty and strength, but there was so much more to her than that. She moved with such confidence and surety, exuding an air of pure royalty that Thorax had never come close to managing. Ocellus understood now why Chrysalis had called him a false king.

Chrysalis reached out, and Ocellus flinched, until Chrysalis placed her hoof so gently beneath Ocellus’ chin, lifting it to look her in the eyes. “You are my daughter,” Chrysalis purred, “and you are so much more than the eggs you will bear. You are the changelings, you are the hive.” She was leaning in so close now, as Ocellus stared at her, transfixed. “You are the queen.”

***

“Something’s wrong.” Thorax drummed his hooves against the arms of the throne, as he stared up at the dwindling moonlight and waited. They should have been back by now.

“I told you to let me go with them,” said Pharynx. “An armed detail should have-”

“Please, Pharynx, don’t you think a first time is difficult enough? The last thing Ocellus needed was a regiment of guards watching her.”

Pharynx shrugged. “They could have turned their backs.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Chrysalis never cared about an audience.”

Thorax’s tone grew icy cold. “My daughter isn’t Chrysalis, and you should be as thankful of that as I am.”

Pharynx realised he’d overstepped, bowing his head low in deference. “Of course, my king. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. For now, let’s worry about finding Ocellus. We don’t even know which direction they went in, so we might have to send several patrols. Can you organise that?”

There was a slight shift in Pharynx’s expression. Thorax knew that look – he’d seen it so many times when they were growing up it would be surprising if he didn’t. His brother was hiding something from him.

“What is it?”

“My king?”

“This isn’t the time to be playing games, Pharynx. What haven’t you told me?”

Pharynx wrestled with his conscience for a moment longer, and then: “I knew you wouldn’t approve, but in lieu of a guard detail, I arranged a tracking spell for Thrips before the flight. It’ll lead us right to them.”

Silence lingered in the hall.

“Were you ever planning on telling me?” asked Thorax.

“Not if I didn’t need to.”

Thorax took a deep breath. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, is that spell still working? Can you find them?”

“We can.”

“Then do it.”

Pharynx nodded, then gave an authoritative whistle and was quickly joined by several drones, standing smartly to attention. Despite his deception, Pharynx did have the best interests of the hive at heart, and Thorax would always respect that even if they disagreed about his methods.

Especially if those methods involved secrets.

“Oh, and Pharynx?”

Pharynx hesitated, wings outstretched. “Yes?”

“I’m coming with you.”

***

The dirt was cold against Ocellus’ chitin as she sat in the darkness, Chrysalis’ words spiralling through her head. “Why did you do it?” she asked.

“Do what, little bug?”

“Dad told me what happened, how you tricked him so you could escape.”

“You would have had me stay as an obedient prisoner? That’s no place for a queen. I saw my chance at freedom and I took it, and I won’t apologise for that.”

Ocellus shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. Why did you leave me there? You didn’t have to anymore, why did you give the changelings another queen?”

Chrysalis took a moment before answering, slowly circling the clearing’s periphery. “A hive without a queen is doomed,” she said.

“So? Why would you care about that? I thought you hated us.”

Chrysalis laughed softly, but there was a tinge of sadness there that Ocellus wasn’t expecting. It felt more truthful than the laugh. “Do they paint me as a monster, little bug? Am I horror stories and nightmares? The cruel despot, the tyrant queen?”

Ocellus didn’t say anything, but she didn’t need to. Chrysalis must have already known it was all true.

“Do you know what the difference between history and propaganda is?” Chrysalis grinned again, without a hint of humour. “Motivation. It’s so much easier for them if I’m the monster they want me to be, but the truth is that I always cared for my changelings. I always protected them, brought them all the love they could ever feast on. I gave them Equestria, and I was repaid with betrayal and exile.”

“That’s not true,” Ocellus insisted. “You could have transformed, too. You could have changed.”

“To what end? To be servile to ponies? To be pretty, unthreatening colours so we aren’t hunted down and destroyed like Celestia always wanted? We are changelings, we don’t live in fear. We don’t bow to ponies.”

“No one’s had to bow. The ponies leave us alone.”

“Do they? No appeasements, no offerings?”

Chrysalis’ smile widened, as if she knew exactly what Ocellus was thinking, what she was remembering. The School of Friendship, how she’d felt like a token of goodwill, a political pawn. And why? So that Thorax could show the ponies that changelings could be trusted now.

“There it is,” purred Chrysalis. “The ponies don’t know how to leave things alone – it’s not in their nature. Their instinct is to be scared of us, to fear us and hate us, just as all prey fears its predators.”

Ocellus shook her head vigorously, both to disagree and to dislodge the unwelcome memories. “I have pony friends,” she said. “They’re not scared of me, or what I am.”

“Your friends are not Princess Celestia,” Chrysalis sneered. “There will be more demands, more requirements. Sanctions. Rules. As soon as you start making drones, that old fear will rise up again. Can you not see how it will make them uneasy when you begin to live up to your title? They won’t have forgotten all that I accomplished, and they will expect nothing less from you.”

This was a trick. Ocellus knew that, knew that it had to be. Chrysalis was clever, and evil, and there was no way this was anything but some kind of ploy.

But…

There was that nagging voice at the back of her mind. Everything Chrysalis had said so far had been true. Thorax had wanted to use her – his own daughter – for political gain. She was a tool to him, and everything he’d done had only proved that. She’d been offered as proof of their submission to the ponies, a way to get them used to the idea of a queen. A token of trust. A bargaining chip.

Chrysalis hadn’t been responsible for that. She hadn’t made Thorax give her over to the ponies, hadn’t made her bend over for a drone so Ocellus could lay eggs forever either. Those were all things Thorax had done on his own. He’d told her it was all for the good of the changelings, for the hive, that it was her Responsibility, but she was beginning to wonder. Maybe it was for his own good instead.

“Even if you’re right,” she whispered, “what am I supposed to do about it?”

Chrysalis closed the distance and did something Ocellus never expected. She pulled the little changeling into a tight embrace, holding her close against her warm chitin. “Take your rightful place,” Chrysalis murmured. “Rise to your throne, throw off your chains. Be the queen you were born to be.”

“You mean… usurp Thorax?”

“Usurp? Daughter, the throne is already yours. There is nothing to usurp.”

“I could never do that,” said Ocellus. “He’s my father, and-”

“And he has done nothing for you but deny you what you’re owed. Do you want to be a subservient little bug your entire life? Doing what daddy tells you, letting as many drones fuck you and breed you as he wants, all so he can placate the changelings and stay in power?”

“N-no,” Ocellus replied, flinching a little at Chrysalis’ harsh language.

“Because that’s what he wants. That’s the life Thorax is sentencing you to, and it’s no life for a queen. A queen mates when she wants to, a queen does what she wills. A queen answers to nobody but herself, and the hive obeys. The hive always obeys.”

“I…”

“You want to be free, don’t you? The power to be truly yourself, no commitment to anyone else. Isn’t that why you’re out here? You were running away.”

Ocellus blinked in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Why else would you be fleeing from your mate? But you don’t have to run or hide. You can have all that freedom you so desperately want, and an army of loyal drones at your side. And we both know a queen needs her freedom, it’s who we are. Once you get a taste of the power that comes with it, you’ll know you chose well. You’ll know it’s where you belong.”

“And what about Thorax?”

Chrysalis shrugged. “Imprison him, exile him, eat him. The choice is yours. But you can’t keep him; he’s too dangerous. He’ll undermine you, steal your hive out from beneath you, just like he did to me. He’s a grub, and they’re all too good at burrowing under foundations if you let them.”

“I couldn’t do that to him,” said Ocellus. “He’s still my father, even if he hasn’t always been great at it. I still love him.”

“Love? Please. The only love a queen needs is food. If you want your birthright and your freedom there’s no room for sentimentality. Thorax has denied you everything. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy. Or your love.”

“That’s enough,” came a new voice, cutting harshly across the clearing so suddenly that Ocellus jumped in Chrysalis’ hooves.

From between the trees emerged Thorax, flanked by Pharynx and several other drones, shuffling nervously as the old queen snarled at them, their horns alight in anticipation and fear.

“The false king himself,” drawled Chrysalis. “I wondered if you’d have the guts to make an appearance.”

“Let her go,” Thorax said, and his voice was colder than Ocellus had ever heard it before, although there was still that tremor of nervousness undercutting each of his words. “We have the whole clearing surrounded, but we’ll let you leave in peace if you just give us Ocellus.”

“More deals. You’re very fond of making them, aren’t you, grub?”

“And you’re very good at breaking them,” said Thorax.

“Are you really still bitter about my deception? I told you, it’s all a game. You simply forgot you were still playing.”

Ocellus saw a small pang of something flash across Thorax’s face. Anger? She didn’t think she’d ever seen Thorax actually angry before. Mostly he was just nervous, but while he was still obviously scared tonight Thorax stared down his old adversary without ever looking away.

Chrysalis leaned down to mutter in Ocellus’ ear, and all the gathered drones tensed instinctively.

“Ask him the question,” Chrysalis said. “The one you’re wondering about.”

How did she know? Maybe Chrysalis was thinking the same thing, or maybe she was just that good at knowing what changelings were thinking. She supposed that was something a queen as feared as Chrysalis would be quite good at. Either way, Chrysalis was right – something nagged at Ocellus, despite the tension hanging in the air. It seemed small and unimportant, but…

“How did you find me?” she asked.

A flicker of panic over Thorax’s features. “Now’s not the time. We can talk about it later.”

“Your queen asked you a question, drone,” growled Chrysalis. “Or does your daughter not deserve the truth?”

“That’s not going to work, Chrysalis,” said Thorax. “You’re not going to pit us against each other.”

Chrysalis shrugged. “I don’t need to. Your refusal says more than I ever could.”

Ocellus glanced back and forth between her parents with a nervous frown. They knew something she didn’t. “Dad?” she asked, and he winced.

“I… We’ll talk at home.”

“We can talk now,” said Ocellus, more firmly than she’d ever spoken to him. She could feel that power that Chrysalis had talked about, a deep stirring down in her chest that added some kind of resonance to her words, giving them a weight that had never been there before.

“Tell her, grub,” Chrysalis ordered. “Or I will.”

“There was a tracking spell on Thrips,” Thorax said, slowly, struggling to look her in the eyes.

“Wh-what?” The weight in Ocellus’ voice vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by hurt confusion. “You were tracking us? The whole time?”

“I didn’t know about it, Pharynx put it there.” Thorax ignored the dismissive grunt from Pharynx beside him. “Believe me, I wouldn’t have-”

“Why would you do that?” The outrage that had been smouldering in Ocellus since her father called her back to the hive caught fire at last, fuelled both by Chrysalis’ words and Thorax’s newest betrayal of trust. She barely even heard his protests as she pulled herself free of her mother’s grip to better admonish him. “Were you planning on following us? Making sure I mated with him after all, that I did what you told me?”

“No, of course I wasn’t,” Thorax said, but she didn’t hear any conviction in it.

“You still don’t trust me! After everything I’ve already done for the hive, after everything you made me give up. After sending me so far away from home just so you could look good for the ponies.”

Thorax blinked. “What? That’s not why I-”

“Shut up!” Ocellus’ voice cracked a little as she shouted at him, and for the first time Thorax actually listened to her, dropping into stunned silence. “You’ve always got an excuse. It’s always necessary. It’s always my responsibility. But it’s always just what you want. You never listen to me, or care what I think.”

“Ocellus, please,” Thorax begged. “This is exactly what Chrysalis wants.”

“You’re still not listening.” That weight was back, and all the gathered drones could hear it too; she wasn’t just imagining it. They all flinched a little, some of them even taking a small step back. “You’re just making this someone else’s fault again. It’s never yours, it’s always just how things are, how they have to be.” Tears were stinging the edges of Ocellus’ eyes again. “But Chrysalis isn’t to blame for everything you did. I was already running away before she even showed up.”

Thorax’s expression changed. There had been concern, and confusion, and worry. But when Ocellus told him that, all of that melted away into heartbroken disbelief. “You were running away?” he asked, quietly, as if he couldn’t even believe the words were coming out.

“Is that really surprising? After everything you wanted me to do?”

“I just… I was only trying to save the hive.”

“You were only trying to keep her to heel,” Chrysalis said, hissing with disgust. “Even after my imprisonment, you still haven’t learned. You can’t make a queen bow to you. We’re not like drones – we don’t take well to orders.”

Chrysalis strode forward beside Ocellus, and all the drones cowered instinctively at her approach. The sight gave Ocellus a moment of pause; she hadn’t ever seen the changelings as scared of anyone as they were of Chrysalis.

“And Ocellus is a queen,” Chrysalis purred, running a hoof reassuringly down her back. “She always was. You can’t control her anymore, and she’ll be taking the hive that she’s owed. If you’re lucky, she may even let you live.”

Thorax was silent, and Chrysalis’ smile faltered a little at that, tinged with disappointment.

“Well, grub?” she asked. “Aren’t you going to grovel? Beg for forgiveness? Confess your temerity?”

Thorax barely even glanced at her, and Chrysalis growled low in her throat. He didn’t respond to that either, fixated entirely on Ocellus instead.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, in barely more than a whisper. “You’re right. I should have seen this coming, I shouldn’t have put you up to this.”

Ocellus felt Chrysalis’ grip on her shoulder tighten, almost painfully so.

“If you really want the hive, it’s yours,” he continued, but then his words took on a harder edge, scowling at the old queen. “But you are not Chrysalis. Don’t let her get in your head, you’re better than she is. I know you are.”

“Oh, please,” Chrysalis said, rolling her eyes. “You keep the little bug’s birthright from her, I encourage her to take what’s rightfully hers, and I’m the monster?”

“You don’t know how to be anything else.”

“You see?” Chrysalis asked, turning her attention back to Ocellus. “This is what he thinks of queens. This is why he hates you, Ocellus, and why he’ll never give up his power to you willingly. He can’t see past his own preconceptions. Every time he looks at you he sees me, he sees my deception, he sees a night he regrets.”

“That’s not true,” Thorax insisted. “That’s only what I think of you. Ocellus is a better changeling than you’ve ever been.”

“Why, because you forced her to transform? Because you made her fit your pitiful ‘reformation’? Having bright colours won’t change who we are. We’re changelings, we’re queens. Changelings take. Changelings feed.” The corners of Chrysalis’ mouth twisted in a vicious snarl. “We don’t share.”

“That’s not it,” said Thorax. “Ocellus is better than you because she knows you’re wrong.”

“Is that so, little bug?” Chrysalis asked Ocellus, her voice silky smooth again. “Am I wrong? Or can you feel it too, deep inside? That hunger, gnawing at you, eating you inside out. The one that only queens understand, the one that only power and stolen love can satiate.”

“I…” Ocellus hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do, daughter. I know you do. I saw it, just now, and you felt it too. You might not even have known it was there until tonight, but now you’ve found it you’ll never be able to let it go again. And unlike your father, I don’t think it’s something to be ashamed of. I’m not trying to bury who you are. A queen should be celebrated, not admonished.”

Ocellus searched for that power she’d felt inside earlier, lingering, lurking. Just as Chrysalis said, it wasn’t hard to find, as if it had just been waiting to be discovered, eager to be pulled to the forefront from where she’d unknowingly hidden it. Was this what Thorax had been afraid of, what he’d tried to keep her from? All his warnings, all his talk of duty – a lie, to keep her from finding herself. She could have been like this all along, never worrying about Responsibility. It was everyone else who had duties, not her. Everyone else was supposed to serve her, bow to her. Ocellus’ drones, Ocellus’ hive, Ocellus’ kingdom.

“Why?” she asked Thorax, and she could feel that reverberation again, the one that made the air electric, the one that made the drones shrink back just from her words. For the first time, Ocellus felt like the royalty she was. “Why did you hide this from me?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you want me to be queen?”

“This isn’t being a queen, Ocellus,” Thorax said, although she could see him quivering, shaking from the sheer force in her voice. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You’re still trying to stop me,” she shouted, and she could feel a crackling sensation begin to crawl across her chitin. She ignored it. “You still don’t care what I think, you still think you’re better than me. You’re still scared of me.”

Thorax’s quivering stopped. “No,” he said. “You’re my daughter. I could never be scared of you.”

Her scowl deepened. “Maybe you should be.”

The surrounding drones were staring at her now, wide-eyed, glancing nervously amongst themselves. She didn’t know why, at first, not until that crackling feeling stopped, and she glanced down as it vanished at the tips of her hooves.

They were jet black, just like the rest of her.

Her pale blue exterior was gone, not even a trace of it left as her new, dark carapace gleamed in what little moonlight reached the clearing. A hot burn ripped through her legs, and she gritted her teeth in pain as divots began to form in her chitin, deepening and then sinking right through, leaving her legs pocked with holes. A wave of apprehension rolled over her as she remembered the caverns beneath the school, how sick she had felt when she looked down and saw Chrysalis’ hooves instead of her own, how terrified she’d been when she couldn’t change back.

But that was then, and this was different. She wasn’t afraid of Chrysalis anymore. Ocellus was a queen, too, and at worst Chrysalis was an equal. Someone who should be just as scared of Ocellus as the other way around. And as for her mother being a monster?

She’d believed the stories, whole-heartedly. She’d had no reason not to, and so whatever Thorax had told her she’d accepted. She’d swallowed down his lies and assertions, and never even thought to question them. Ocellus had always done what she was told, believed what she was supposed to believe. Until tonight.

But if he’d kept the truth of queenhood from her in an attempt to keep her docile, what else had he lied about? What else had the drones kept from her, from their queen? Maybe Chrysalis wasn’t to blame, maybe the drones had been wrong the whole time, and maybe they knew it. Maybe the entire thing had been a fabrication to keep Ocellus in line so they could reap all the benefits of a queen without having to bow to her.

Like they were supposed to.

But she understood now, newfound power coursing through her body as her transformation completed. Her snake-like tongue flitted out between long, sharp fangs, jutting out menacingly from her jaw. Was she taller? She felt taller, but perhaps that was just because the drones were shrinking down in front of her. Maybe that amounted to the same thing.

She could taste their emotions now. All changelings could, of course, but it had never felt so distinct, so clear. So strong. The sharp pangs of their fear and trepidation, mixed with lighter hints of respect and even reverence. They recognised her now for exactly who she was, who she had always been. They recognised their queen, and that subtle tinge of devotion and loyalty was already beginning to swell within them. Drones were easy, drones were predisposed to serve.

Drones were supposed to serve.

Another gentle caress against her back as Chrysalis admired Ocellus’ new form. Her wings had lengthened, too, and as she stretched them wide she could see familiar tears and holes through them that hadn’t been there before, dark pits in their glimmering iridescence.

“You look beautiful, daughter,” Chrysalis purred. “Befitting of a queen.”

Despite all her changes, a faint blush rose in Ocellus’ cheeks at that. She didn’t think anyone had ever called her beautiful. She knew the drones wanted her, of course, but that felt like pure necessity. Instinct. They wanted to breed, so of course they wanted her. But Chrysalis didn’t have that bias, and so her compliment felt all the more genuine.

No she’s a liar she’s using you stop listening to her

The thoughts surged up from within, somewhere deep down that Ocellus had locked away as she transformed. She shook them off again, like water off her back. That was the old her – the scared Ocellus, the Ocellus that ran away and hid and cried and lamented her station when she should have celebrated it. She didn’t need to be like that anymore, not now. She was no longer ‘little bug’.

“Ocellus, please,” Thorax begged, his voice fraught. “This isn’t-”

“What did you call me?” she demanded, whirling on him.

“I don’t-”

“I am your queen. Don’t you dare address me without my title again.”

“Ocellus, listen to yourself. You’re better than this. You’re stronger than this.”

Yes he’s right listen to what he says we can still beat this it’s not too late to change back

Ocellus’ eyes narrowed as she advanced on Thorax. All around him the drones stumbled back, even Pharynx, but Thorax stood firm. He was supposed to be scared, he was supposed to submit. But instead the false king just looked heartbroken.

“Say it one more time, drone,” she hissed, close enough that her forehead almost butted against his. “All my life you’ve kept my title from me, father. But I’ve taken it back anyway, and now you’ll pay me the respect I’m owed. Kneel,” she commanded, “and call me Queen.”

Thorax didn’t even blink. “You’ll always be Ocellus to me,” he said. “No matter what, even if I’ve failed you. You’ll always be my daughter.”

With a snarl of anger, before she was even really aware of what she was doing, Ocellus’ horn burst alight, a flare of green in the darkness. Thorax crumpled as her magic enveloped him, collapsing to the ground before her, shivering and grunting in pain as she began to tear the love from him.

Behind her, Chrysalis cackled. “Yes, daughter. Give the grub the ending he deserves.”

Ocellus barely even heard her. She was too busy eating, devouring, taking everything her father had kept from her, everything she was entitled to. But more than that, she was searching, tasting. Every fragment of love she pulled from him carefully examined as she ate it, to find that trace of deceit and disgust she knew would be in there. As soon as she found it she would take everything from him, but she had to find it first. She had to prove it.

That spark of resentment, of hatred for her and who – what – she was was. It had to be there, Ocellus knew it did. It had to be, why couldn’t she find it, how deep had he buried it?

Thorax gasped and shuddered beneath her, twitching in the dirt as she tore memory after reminiscence after sentimentality from him, and yet there was always more. There was so much love in him, and no matter how much she took there was always more. All for her.

“Where is it?” she demanded, watching Thorax squirm in the dirt beneath her. “I know it’s here, why are you hiding it? Just show me.”

Thorax didn’t answer, so wracked with pain, and she didn’t know if he’d tell her even if he could. No matter, though, she’d find it, even if she had to tear every last bit of love from him to do so.

But it didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Why would he have so much love for her if he resented her? Why did he still have more to give, even now, as she wrenched it out of him and feasted on it? Thorax should have run out – he should have given up and given in and shown her what she was looking for. But no, just more love, more adoration.

“Show me and I can stop,” she said. It was meant to sound intimidating, threatening, but Ocellus didn’t think it carried the weight she hoped it would. Her voice still rang out with that power from before, but even she could hear the taint of uncertainty in it. It almost sounded pleading, certainly not queenlike.

Ocellus bared her fangs and redoubled her efforts, tearing into Thorax anew as his shudders weakened. But still no resentment, still no disgust. Just love. Always love.

“Just show me,” she said again, and now she really was pleading, sounding just like her old, pitiful self. “Why isn’t it here? You’re supposed to be scared of me. You’re supposed to hate me.”

Thorax’s quivering grew weaker still, his grunts starting to quiet. “Never…” he spluttered through laboured breaths. “Never scared of you. Never hate you.”

Ocellus dropped to her hindquarters, and to her dismay she felt a familiar warmth around the edges of her eyes. She was crying? What kind of queen cried, especially over a drone?

“Do something,” she begged. “Why aren’t you trying to stop me? Why aren’t you fighting back?”

He was too weak to even give an answer, now. And yet still there was more love there, still he gave it up freely without even the barest attempt to resist her. But even Thorax’s love wasn’t endless, and she could feel it finally starting to wane and dwindle. His movements fading, eyes closed, teeth gritted, the dirt smeared against his chitin.

With a cry of anguish, Ocellus broke off the spell. It wasn’t there. No disgust, no apprehension. Nothing. Thorax had never hated her, not for who she was, not for what she’d done. Not even after she’d transformed into the spitting image of Chrysalis, and not even as she’d torn the love out of him down to the last dregs.

He’d loved her all the same.

Thorax lay still, barely even breathing, so little of his energy left. She’d been so close. Just a little more and she would have taken everything.

“What are you doing?” growled Chrysalis. “Finish what you started. Complete your ascension.”

Ocellus was shaking, her tears flowing freely and rolling down her cheeks as she rounded on Chrysalis with hot anger. “You lied to me.”

“Lied? Daughter, look at you. Look at what you are, all that you’ve become. I showed you your potential, I showed you your strength. Does that feel like a lie to you?”

“Thorax,” Ocellus said, simply. “He didn’t… you were wrong about him.”

Chrysalis raised an eyebrow. “He kept you from this, daughter. From what you were owed. Thorax kept you in the dark and on his leash. I didn’t need to lie about that, it’s all true.”

“He loves me,” Ocellus insisted. “I… When I was feeding, there was nothing else there.”

“And we often hurt the ones we love,” Chrysalis said. “You think his love changes anything? It doesn’t. He still kept all this from you, he still held you back. His motivations don’t matter, Thorax wronged you.”

“Of course it matters. If it-”

“Actions are what matter. He betrayed your trust. He lied. He forced you to transform to fit his ideals, forced you to find a mate to bend over for and let them breed you, all so that he could stay king. If he loved you and still subjected you to all that, then he’s even crueller than I could ever be.” Her tone grew harsh. “Finish it. Seize your throne.”

Ocellus shook her head. “He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Are you really going to let sentimentality for a drone stand in your way? After everything he put you through?”

“He’s my father.”

“As if that makes any difference,” Chrysalis spat. “Where do you think you come from? Whom do you take after? Most drones don’t even know who their father is, and I wasn’t keeping track. I was the constant, I was the one that mattered. The queen is above all.”

Ocellus’ brow furrowed, doubt beginning to seep in. “You don’t care about them at all, do you?”

“I care for all my children, and especially you. But individually?” Chrysalis shrugged. “A single drone is nothing. And the ones that step out of line have to be corrected, have to be made an example of.”

“Not like this.”

Chrysalis sighed, tapping her hoof restlessly against the dirt. “And you were doing so well. Fine, I’ll do it myself. You’ll thank me later.” Her horn ignited as she stepped towards the supine king, only to stop dead as Ocellus blocked her path.

Ocellus still wasn’t as tall as Chrysalis, and the old queen seemed to tower over her as she stood her ground, but it didn’t matter anymore. Ocellus still wasn’t scared, or at least no more than was deserved. Chrysalis was powerful, and terrifying, but now so was Ocellus. There was nothing Chrysalis had that she didn’t.

“Daughter,” Chrysalis sighed, exasperation plain in every syllable, “can’t you see that I’m trying to help you? Thorax’s ideology is a disease, one that’s already rotting your hive to the core. You can’t let him live.”

Ocellus stood firm.

A flicker of anger across Chrysalis’ face, the slightest glint of teeth before she managed to contain her snarl. “Why do you still care about him? Would no betrayal be enough? You have all the freedom you’ve ever craved, the power to keep it, and all the strength that you will ever need. And still you can’t see that he never wanted you to have this. Thorax has done nothing to earn your forgiveness.”

“He made a mistake.”

“He thinks you are a mistake. He will never see you as anything more than a tool for him. Dangerous, but necessary.”

“Dad had nothing but love for me,” Ocellus said, brushing away the tears with the back of her hoof and wincing a little at the sight of the holes. “And you knew that,” she continued, getting surer and more confident with every word. “You’re forgetting I’m a queen, too. I can taste your emotions, and you’re scared.”

Chrysalis snorted derisively. “Scared? What in Equestria do I have to be scared of?”

“You’re scared you’re wrong. That you’ve always been wrong. You’re scared that a queen doesn’t have to be cruel to be powerful, to be respected. And so you need Thorax to be cruel, you need me to be cruel because otherwise it’s proof you’re lying to yourself.” Her voice lowered to a growl that Ocellus would have never expected to be able to make before tonight. “And you are.”

Chrysalis didn’t even try and hide her fury anymore, teeth bared, panting with raw anger. “Enough,” she snarled, her voice booming across the clearing and making the still-cowering drones sink even lower. “Get out of my way, bug. If you won’t take your throne, then I will.”

Ocellus’ magic flared. “No.”

“You think you can stop me? Do you have any idea what-”

The blast was so quick that Chrysalis barely had time to flinch before it slammed into her chest, sending her sprawling across the clearing, rolling and bouncing against the dirt. She was up on her hooves almost instantly, though, releasing her own beam right back towards Ocellus with a bestial shriek of fury. Ocellus saw it coming, ducking to one side as it tore through the air beside her and blasted into a tree trunk, leaving a smouldering scorch mark in the bark.

But she didn’t see the second bolt, and it caught her square in the side, a lance of agony shooting through her and making her own spell fizzle to nothing. Ocellus cried out as she tumbled to the ground, and magic wrapped firmly around her before she could recover, pinning her down as Chrysalis closed the gap.

“Pitiful,” Chrysalis gasped as her grasp tightened, splaying Ocellus’ limbs out wide enough to hurt. “I gave you everything. And you threw it all away for a drone. You’re even more pathetic than he is – at least he aimed above his station, not below.” Her expression hardened. “And then you were stupid enough to try and fight me. You may be a queen, little bug, but you’re weak. You could never win.”

Ocellus closed her eyes, searching. And then she smiled as she found what she was looking for, letting Thorax’s love within her well up, surging through her body with newfound power. “Not alone,” she said, and the clearing exploded with light.

Chrysalis was sent flying again as the love poured free, both Thorax’s and Ocellus’ together as Ocellus shared it all with the world, an eruption of adoration. The clearing was illuminated in almost blinding power, the dark shadow of Chrysalis spinning through the air like a ragdoll until she collided with a tree on the far side of the clearing with a loud crunch. Everything Ocellus had taken from Thorax she returned tenfold, pale blue streaks darting across her black chitin like lightning, spreading and widening as they went. The holes in her legs knitting together again as her fangs drew back into her jaw, and then, finally herself again, Ocellus dropped to the ground in exhaustion.

The light faded, and darkness reclaimed the clearing. Ocellus pulled herself upright on shaking legs. Across from her, Chrysalis struggled to do the same, but her hooves gave out underneath her and she dropped back into the dirt.

“You stupid little bug,” Chrysalis spat, nothing but hatred in her words now, a far cry from all the care and faux-compassion she’d shown earlier. “You’re as short-sighted as your father. Do you think you’ll ever be content, now you know what you could have been? What you really are?”

Ocellus wanted to tell Chrysalis she was wrong, that Ocellus didn’t need it, didn’t want it, but it would have been a lie. She could still feel the queen inside her, clawing and gnashing, desperate to break free again. Desperate to seize control and make the world surrender to her. It would be so easy, all she’d have to do was let it out again.

But she wouldn’t. Ocellus had seen how dangerous that allure could be, and she’d keep the queen locked away as long as she could. And if it ever did get out again? Well, she’d beaten it once, she could do it again.

With Thorax’s help.

“You should leave, Mom,” Ocellus said.

The corners of Chrysalis’ mouth twitched as she tried to pull herself upright once more. She managed it this time, although she had to lean heavily against the trunk beside her for support. “And are you going to make me, little bug?”

“No.” Ocellus nodded towards the treeline. “But they might.”

The gathered drones, no longer cowering, no longer afraid and perhaps even empowered by Ocellus’ love, slowly began to advance on the weakened queen, Pharynx at their forefront. They moved with purpose, and every step closer was laced with unbridled threat. Intimidation didn’t breed loyalty.

Chrysalis may have been furious and vengeful, but even she knew when things were hopeless. With one last snarl of anger, she turned and slipped between the trees, vanishing into the darkness with one last contemptuous flick of her tail.

A few of the bolder drones – Pharynx included – gave chase, but Ocellus didn’t think they’d have much luck. Chrysalis hadn’t lasted this long for lack of resourcefulness. It wasn’t her concern right now, anyway. The moment Chrysalis had left, Ocellus dragged herself over to Thorax.

Her heart sank at the sight of him. He was still breathing, thank the hive, but it was shallow and raspy, filled with pain. Ocellus placed a hoof gently against his shoulder, horrified at how cold he felt, and closed her eyes. She was exhausted, yes, but she needed to find the strength for this. Somehow.

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” she whispered. “This isn’t what I wanted. I never meant to hurt you.” She lowered her head, pressing her forehead to his. “But it’s going to be okay. Right?”

Ocellus had to reach down deep to find the love she was looking for; she’d used almost all of what she could spare to defeat Chrysalis. But there was still enough, just enough. Or at least she hoped there was. And so she pulled it free and let it suffuse across her chitin, let it permeate the air around them and sink into Thorax’s unconscious form. As much as she could give, as much as she had. Enough that Ocellus felt herself start to slip away herself, giving it all. She stopped herself when she knew there was nothing more she could do, and opened her eyes, praying it was enough.

And, to her immense relief, Thorax opened his.

She was quick to pull him into a tight hug, burying her head against his chest as he jolted in surprise.

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” Ocellus mumbled against his carapace. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to hurt you, that wasn’t me. I’m so, so sorry.”

After a terrible moment of hesitation, Thorax’s hooves wrapped around her, holding her close. “It’s okay,” he said, gently running a hoof along her back like he used to do back when she was barely more than a nymph. “It’s okay, Ocellus, I know. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

And Ocellus just held him tighter and tried to believe him. Tried not to think about the pained look of betrayal and hurt on his face he’d had as she’d drained the love from him.

Tried to believe that it really was going to be okay.

Consummation

Ocellus stared dully at the wall and listened to the muffled voices beyond her door. It was hard to make out everything, but she could catch enough.

More than enough.

“...long has it been?”

“...days. She won’t leave, and Thorax is…”

“...probably for the best. She did…”

“...if Chrysalis ever…”

“...are scared. They think…”

Ocellus groaned and sunk her head into the pillow, trying to drown out the voices. She’d heard that same conversation over and over, from whichever drones had been posted outside her bedroom, and she was already sick of it.

Everyone knew.

Of course they did, why wouldn’t they? Thorax had asked the guards to keep the events of that night secret – the last thing the hive needed was believing their queen was about to follow in Chrysalis’ hoofsteps – and every last one of them had sworn their silence. Upon their return to the hive, the rumour had spread like wildfire almost immediately. Drones liked to talk, it seemed.

Ocellus didn’t blame them. She deserved it, really, their fear and their distrust. She would have felt exactly the same in their hooves. She felt exactly the same in hers, now that she knew how easy it was to slip, for her true self to come out.

Don’t think like that. That’s not you, you’re not that monster. You’re just believing what Chrysalis wants you to think.

Maybe. But it had been so simple to fall before, and that reassuring thought had no conviction. And how could she ever face her subjects now? She’d failed her maiden flight, returned without a clutch, and rumours swirled about her encounter with Chrysalis. The first day, everywhere she walked she could see the drones muttering and whispering and shooting her troubled glances when they didn’t think she was looking. There hadn’t been a second day; Ocellus couldn’t face any more of that.

And so she lay here and the events of that night spun through her memories and she waited for… something. She didn’t really know what, only that it would come from Thorax.

Perhaps he’d imprison her. He’d dress it up for her own safety and she would agree even though they both knew he’d be lying. Or maybe he’d send her back to Ponyville. That was the best outcome, but Ocellus wasn’t naive enough to believe it was likely. And even if he did, it would do nothing dispel that shadow hanging over her. What if she changed in front of her friends? What if she was doomed to become that monster again and next time no one would be able to snap her out of it?

Most likely Thorax would have picked a new mate for her. There wouldn’t be a maiden flight this time, he wouldn’t take the risk, and Ocellus would just have to give the hive a clutch. Just do what she was supposed to, be who she was supposed to be, no transformation, no fangs, no anger. Just clutches and breeding and Responsibility.

None of those options were particularly appealing. And so Ocellus had shut herself away instead of having to deal with the stares and rumours and regrets. It hadn’t really worked – alone with her thoughts was no place to be, and she’d heard enough of the drones’ gossip filtering under her door that she hadn’t even gotten away from it.

She wanted to go back to Ponyville, she wanted to be with her friends again, she wanted to leave her Responsibility behind, leave that terrible night behind and go and be just Ocellus again, with no title to worry about.

A pipe dream, nothing more.

The guards outside fell abruptly silent, and Ocellus perked her ears up just in time to hear a soft knock at her door, one that she recognised even before Thorax’s voice came through. “Ocellus, it’s me. Can I come in?” She sighed. Inevitability had caught up with her; there was no getting out of it. Better to just get it over with.

“Okay,” she called back, and then buried her head in the pillow again so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

They hadn’t really talked about that night. Once he’d recovered – aided by the entire hive sharing their love – he’d avoided her. Or maybe he’d just wanted to give her space to brood. And maybe he’d finally decided it had been long enough that she had to do something else now.

She felt the end of her bed sink down as he sat next to her, just like he had when he’d told her about the previous queen, when Chrysalis had been nothing more than a ghost story. She still almost was – everything about the clearing had taken on an almost transient quality. Her memories of Chrysalis were of teeth and darkness and green, glowing eyes, and she understood why her mother had always garnered such fear. Even after meeting Chrysalis and facing her down, confronting her in a way that almost no one would have ever dared – that Ocellus would have never expected to dare to do either – the old queen seemed ever larger and more intimidating each time she remembered it.

Chrysalis really was a monster, in the purest sense, and monsters thrived in imagination.

“Hey,” Thorax said, lamely. “How are you feeling?”

Ocellus shrugged. It said everything it needed to. “What about you?” she asked, after a moment.

“Better than I was,” he replied.

She hated this. Was he trying to rub it in her face, make her remember and force the guilt into her? Chrysalis’ words rang through her head

He’s kept you complacent, obedient.

and she hated it because no matter how hard she tried to deny them there was always that little ring of truth. Chrysalis was too clever, so quickly turning her against Thorax, and even after denying Chrysalis and rejecting her transformation Ocellus couldn’t shake those nagging thoughts from her head. And she’d seen how dangerous they could become, which made them all the worse.

“Can I see it?” he asked.

Ocellus rolled over, presenting her flank to him. His expression darkened as he reached out a hoof to gently trace along the deep, silvery scar where Chrysalis’ magic had burned into her, right through the chitin. She hadn’t noticed the wound at the time, adrenaline keeping the pain muted, and then they were flying back and her flank had started to burn and she looked back and saw blood running all the way down her leg. Thorax’s hoof was warm as he ran it along the spider-like crags the magic had left behind, and then he pulled back, biting his lip in concern.

“You could always change it,” he suggested. “If it bothers you. I know it’s not as simple as just reverting to your native form, but maybe once you get used to it?”

“I quite like it,” Ocellus said, smiling despite herself. “It makes me feel brave.”

“You were,” he said, and now he was smiling too even if his eyes weren’t.

Here it comes. He’s going to give you his mandate again.

Ocellus was ready for it. She wasn’t going to fight him anymore; whatever he’d decided, she would do it. The guilt wouldn’t let her do anything else. If he needed her to be a demure, obedient queen – if the hive needed it – then that’s what Ocellus would be.

“I’m sorry,” Thorax said, his voice cracking around the edges. “I’m so sorry, Ocellus.”

This was not what she’d expected.

“This is all my fault,” he continued. “I pushed you away, I asked for too much, and I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise. You just wanted to protect the hive.”

Thorax shook his head. “You’re our queen, but you’re also my daughter. That comes first, always. I want you to know that, and I’m sorry that I lost sight of it.”

This wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be the one apologising, not after everything she’d done. It only made the guilt worse, made her feel even more ostracised. Ocellus knew she didn’t deserve it, and she wasn’t going to let Thorax humble himself when it should have been the other way around.

He should have been angry, or scared, or both. Or something. Anything but this. He was supposed to have orders, duties, Responsibilities for her to follow, one last chance to prove she was loyal to the hive. Or maybe not even that, maybe he should just lock her up and throw away the key.

But perhaps Ocellus should have seen this coming after tasting all the love he’d had for her.

“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “I almost killed you.”

He was smiling again, despite his eyes misting up. And yet this time it felt more real. “I knew you wouldn’t. You’re better than Chrysalis, you’re good. She’ll never understand that, and it’s why you’ll always beat her. But it’s my fault that you were in the lion’s den in the first place, and that should never have happened.”

“Stop it,” Ocellus said. “You didn’t know that was going to happen. You couldn’t have.”

“But that doesn’t mean it should have.” Thorax took a long breath. “You should go back to Ponyville. I’ll arrange an escort as soon as possible, and then you can-”

“But what about the hive?” she asked. “I thought we needed new drones.”

“We do,” Thorax admitted. “But not if it means losing you. I’ll placate the others, somehow. It’s not your concern.”

Hot rushes of indignation began to rise up through Ocellus. “No, that’s stupid.”

“What?”

She sighed. “I’m the queen. And I’m not just going to be an egg-layer, or spend the whole time breeding.” Ocellus hesitated, staring down at the scar on her flank. “But I’m still the queen. I’m the only one who can do this, and if I’m going to rule the hive one day then there are things I have to do.” A slight quirk of a smile. “Responsibilities,” she said. “And this is one of them.”

“But you-”

“I’ll take a mate,” she said. “For one clutch, at least. And then I’ll go back to Ponyville.”

There was a long silence. “Are you sure?” Thorax asked, eventually.

That was her out, she knew. Thorax giving her every opportunity to change her mind and bow out while she still could. But she’d changed. Chrysalis had changed her, Thorax had changed her. She’d seen what a bad queen could be. And so, instead, Ocellus nodded with finality.

“I’m sure,” she said.

“Okay,” Thorax said. “Thank you, my queen.”

Ocellus couldn’t help but giggle a little. “You don’t have to call me that, Dad.”

“Sometimes I do,” he said. “You can take your time choosing a mate. I know it’s a hard decision, but-”

“I’ve already picked one.”

“...you have?”

She nodded again. “A queen has to pick the best drone as a mate. That’s her duty, right? And I know who the best one is, now.”

Thorax blinked in surprise. “You do? Well, that’s great. I can have them brought up to you whenever you like.”

She shook her head. “They’re already here.”

His confusion was obvious as he glanced around the room as if expecting some changeling to pop out from a dark corner. She gave him a meaningful look and realisation dawned, his eyes going wide with shock.

“Wait, Ocellus, you can’t mean…”

She nodded. “You’re the best of them,” she said, quietly. “It has to be you.”

“I’m your father. We can’t-”

“And Chrysalis is your mother, that didn’t stop you before.”

“That’s completely different!”

“No, it isn’t,” Ocellus insisted. “She was your queen, and now I am. It’s exactly the same.”

“You don’t want this,” Thorax said, practically begging. “Pick another drone, don’t ask me to do this.”

“It has to be you,” Ocellus said again, although her surety was starting to slip. “For strong drones, and for the hive, and… And…” She paused, frantically searching for more excuses. He knew her too well, though, somehow almost better than she did, and he saw through her attempts so easily.

“What is it?” he asked. “If this is just because you still feel guilty, you’ve got nothing to-”

“It’s not that,” Ocellus said. She took a long, shaky breath. “I’m scared,” she told him, and goddess was it hard to look at him now, trying to find anything she could stare at instead. She settled for casting her gaze down towards the bedcovers – that felt safer. “I want the first time to be with someone I love,” she said, “and someone who loves me back. I want it to be with someone who cares about me, more than any other drone would.”

“Ocellus, I-”

He was going to say no. She could hear it already, but she had to convince him. If she was going to do this, it had to be with Thorax. Ocellus didn’t want anyone else.

“Please, Dad, it has to be you. Don’t make me find another drone.”

“I’m not making you do anything. You don’t have to do this.”

“That’s not true. And I want to, with you.”

And now she did look up, and he was still staring at her with incredulity, but she could see something else there, too. Could taste it in the air. Understanding. Compassion. Love. Thorax didn’t want to pair her off with some unknown drone, either. And why would he? She was his daughter, his queen. She was important, and she deserved to be loved and cared for, especially the first time.

Or maybe Ocellus was reading too much into it. Either way, she took advantage of his moment of hesitance to lean forward and pull him in for a kiss.

She’d never kissed anyone before – not properly, anyway – and Ocellus suspected she wasn’t very good at it. Thorax went entirely stiff, and she hoped that was surprise and not her technique, although she thought it could have easily been both.

Ocellus pulled away, watching him carefully as he reeled a little from the shock. He was reading her carefully, and when next he spoke it was with every effort to sound calm and measured even if she could hear the wavering in his voice.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked.

Ocellus remembered his love, how much he’d held for her, how it had coursed through her as she shared it with the world, so powerful and plentiful. “I’m sure,” she said.

Thorax nodded, and when he opened his mouth to speak she leaned forward and kissed him again. Again he stiffened, but this time he began to relax after a moment, even starting to kiss her back. His efforts were as clumsy as hers, and Ocellus wondered if he was as new to this as she was. It would make sense – she doubted Chrysalis had been a particularly caring partner. Most likely the old queen had just taken what she needed and nothing more.

But Ocellus wasn’t going to be like that. In so many ways she was going to avoid becoming like Chrysalis again, and this was one of them. Her drones weren’t tools, weren’t just studs to be used and forgotten about, and Thorax especially wasn’t.

She’d never forget that again.

Ocellus gave as much as she took this time, letting her own love for him fill the air, mixing with his as they slowly began to drop down to the bed together. His hooves were around her, holding her tight, roaming down to her flanks. They paused for a second as he brushed against her new scar, and Ocellus was worried he’d changed his mind, but then he just held her closer, kissed her even more passionately.

She could feel him, now, stiff and hot and pressing against her stomach. It felt exactly as intimidating as she’d imagined, and she was almost scared to look at it. It seemed so big as it rested against her, and those old doubts of how something like that was ever supposed to fit inside her resurfaced. She broke off their kiss again, and then her eyes were drawn inexorably downwards, towards his stallionhood between them.

The sight did nothing to reassure her. It seemed somehow even bigger now she was actually looking at it, thick and flared at the end, and it twitched a little from excitement as she stared. And yet, despite her nervousness, despite how scary it was, seeing Thorax so excited made a little flutter settle through her, sinking all the way down to between her legs with a shiver of anticipation.

What would it feel like, thrusting into her? Ocellus wasn’t completely naive; she’d enjoyed her hoof and magic before, but she wasn’t ignorant enough to imagine that was anything like the real thing. And, as nervous as she was, her own growing excitement was undeniable as she squeezed her thighs together with another shudder of desire. Ocellus reached down with an unsteady hoof, gently taking Thorax’s cock in her grip and smiling when he gasped.

“Is it that sensitive?” she asked, out of genuine curiosity.

Thorax nodded, but he didn’t need to – he twitched again in her grip and told her exactly how he was feeling. And even without that, she could taste what she was starting to recognise as lust as it poured out of him. Out of both of them. Gently she began to stroke him, her hoof playing clumsily along the entirety of his length as he grunted in pleasure. Maybe it didn’t matter that she didn’t really know what she was doing. Maybe Thorax was sensitive enough that she could do almost anything and still please him.

Ocellus thought it was more than that, though. He was only this excited because it was her, because her queen had chosen him. Drones should always be eager for their queen, that was an absolute. And indeed, of all of the choices Ocellus had made since her return to the hive, this was one she knew she wasn’t going to regret. Nothing else had felt so right, so natural as taking Thorax as her partner, being wrapped up in him, feeling him straining against her ministrations as he was overwhelmed with the desire to mate.

A queen needed her drones, and right now Ocellus needed Thorax more than she’d ever needed anything.

She lay back, pulling him down too, and Ocellus could feel his length pressing against her carapace, stiff and ready, as he lay atop her. He was panting a little now, both from their earlier kisses and raw lust, and all the love within him was rolling off in thick waves, suffusing the air around them. She couldn’t help but eat even now, and knew he would be doing the same, that her love would be just as plentiful.

“Are you ready?” he breathed, and she could feel him shifting a little above her, unconsciously rubbing himself against her.

Last chance to back out.

Ocellus nodded, ignoring the little voice. “But… Go slow,” she said, quietly.

“I will.” He slid back a little, tilting his head down as he carefully aligned himself. And then, after a moment more of fumbling, she felt the head of his length start to press against her, gentle but insistent. But there it stayed. Was it not going to fit? Was he not even going to get it into her?

Thorax leaned down again, planting a kiss against her neck this time, and then murmuring beside her. “You have to relax,” he said.

“You can’t just tell someone to relax,” she snapped. “When does that ever work?”

“It’s okay,” Thorax said, not dissuaded by her harsh tone. Ocellus already regretted it – her nerves were getting the better of her – but at least he hadn’t taken it to heart. “We can take it as slow as you need.”

And, strangely enough, that did help. His kisses split her concentration, and Ocellus found herself unconsciously leaning into him, a warm flush rising through her body. And then she felt herself start to part for him, felt him start to push into her, and oh fuck he was big this wasn’t anything like a hoof oh fuck how much of him was there?

True to his word, Thorax went slow, making sure she was used to each inch before pushing further, but now Ocellus wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. She shuddered and bit her lip and whined in either need or pain, even she wasn’t sure anymore, and there was just so much of him and it didn’t ever seem to stop and taking it slow only meant that he was drawing it out ever longer.

Thank the hive she’d chosen Thorax, thank the hive it hadn’t been with Thrips or any other eager drone. She knew they wouldn’t have been this careful, and even now it was still almost too much as she felt herself stretch around him. Still more, ever more, thick and pulsing within her – so hot, so stiff.

And yet, despite the sting of pain, despite how big he felt inside her, there was also some deep, primal satisfaction. Some part of her that demanded more, demanded that Thorax give her everything he had. An instinctive part of her brain delighting at the prospect of being bred, of fulfilling her role as queen, of letting Thorax rut her until she couldn’t move. And that part was making her so wet for him, and even as he grunted above her she could feel him slide ever more easily into her.

And then, with a soft bump, their hips met. He was inside her, fully, as far as he could be. His cock twitched again, and he muttered something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch. He looked up at her, and though she could still taste even more lust rolling off him his eyes were full of concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, breathing heavily even though they hadn’t really done anything yet. “Does it hurt?”

“A little bit,” she admitted, and indeed that dull ache hadn’t gotten any better. Ocellus shifted a little to try and make it more comfortable, and oh fuck that was strange, Thorax’s length so still and hard as iron as she moved around him. Strange, but in a way that made her shiver and gasp. Strange, but in a way that made her want to do it again, to do even more, to get him to thrust into her and rut her properly.

Where was that coming from? Was that the queen part of her, still, or was that simply what lust and desire could do? Ocellus wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure it mattered, either. She knew what she wanted, and that was the only thing that was important.

“If you want to stop…” Thorax muttered.

“No.” There was even more urgency and fire in Ocellus’ refusal than she’d intended, although maybe it was more honest that way. He couldn’t stop now, she couldn’t stop now. They’d come this far, he’d taken her first time, and she wasn’t going to give up now. Ocellus didn’t want to give up; she could feel herself clenching around him instinctively, her body doing what came so naturally. “No,” she repeated, trying to calm down as another shudder went up her spine. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Okay.” Thorax’s concern didn’t seem to be much alleviated by her reassurances, but he probably didn’t want to stop either.

“Just give me a moment,” she breathed. “It’s not what I was expecting.”

She didn’t really know what she had been expecting. Sharp pain, maybe. But it wasn’t that bad, or at least not as bad as she’d been afraid it would be. Certainly she wasn’t expecting to feel so full, so impaled on his length. Ocellus knew she was small compared to most drones, but now that difference felt all the more apparent with Thorax so deep inside her that even she wasn’t sure how it had all gone in.

And even though she’d asked for a moment, Ocellus wasn’t sure she was ever going to get used to this. It was all too much and Thorax hadn’t even started moving yet. The moments ticked by, and she still felt just as strange, just as stretched. She could tell Thorax was growing impatient, moving a little above her in anticipation, and every time he did so another shiver of delight went through her, and he would grunt as she tightened around him.

“Okay,” Ocellus murmured. “I’m ready.” She wasn’t, but she couldn’t wait forever. Her body ached for him, needed him. It was already too much and yet she needed so much more. “But go slow, okay?”

Yes for the love of the hive go slow go so slow please

Thorax nodded, and started to draw his hips back. She’d thought his slight movements had been too much already, but now as he pulled out she felt every inch of him sliding against her, and a desperate whine escaped her lips. And then he paused, and that just made it even worse. Now she just felt hollow, like something that was supposed to be there had been taken away. And now he’d stopped and he was supposed to be filling her again why was he doing this to her why wasn’t he fucking her?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, with infuriating patience. “If it hurts, we can stop.”

“Stop saying that.” Ocellus could hear the layer of lust beneath her words even though she hadn’t meant to put it there. “Just stop talking. I’ll tell you if it hurts too much.”

It hurt too much.

It didn’t hurt enough.

Ocellus wasn’t sure where the ache ended and the need began anymore, they were starting to mix together and become all the same. It hurt, yes, but it would be so much worse if he stopped now.

Either Thorax finally put his fears to rest or she’d been firm enough that he knew better than to question her again, as he gripped her waist and began to thrust back into her, so slowly, just like he’d promised. Unbearably slowly, impossibly slowly. Again she could feel every inch of him as he pressed against her in ways that her hoof never could, deeper than even her magic had ever reached. She felt herself raising her hips to make it easier for him to slide in, and he did exactly that, all the way to the hilt again.

But this time he didn’t even pause before pulling back again. And this was it, they were mating now, properly, and every time he drew back Ocellus yearned so badly for him, and every time he thrust in again she gasped and shivered and her legs twitched. This wasn’t anything like she’d imagined, and she certainly hadn’t expected all the love that flowed so freely from him. Ocellus wondered if that was how sex normally was, if just because it was Thorax and he loved her more than anyone ever had.

She supposed it didn’t matter.

What mattered was Thorax above her, was the way his grip on her waist tightened a little with every oh so gentle thrust, was how he grunted and gasped at every little movement. He enveloped her – completely, absolutely – and she felt so small and warm and safe beneath him. There were no doubts anymore. Thorax loved her, in every way, and another little shiver of delight ran through her at the thought.

He was holding back, she knew. She could tell. His teeth were clenched, his eyes full of desperation and want and adoration as he stared down at her, his length straining even as he tried to stay slow and gentle for her. But he wouldn’t do any more unless she asked. Ocellus was grateful for that, made her choice seem all the more right. She didn’t think Thrips would have been so gentle. He would have fucked her, bred her, but this was different, and she didn’t need to feel all the love that emanated from Thorax to know the difference between rutting and making love.

And yet, as her body eased into it, as at last she started to grow accustomed to the feel of him buried inside her, Ocellus found herself wanting more. Thorax had been gentle when she needed him to be, but now it no longer felt like enough. She was still tender, but it felt as though something was missing, incomplete. With every slow draw out of her she longed for him to plunge back in, and her hips bucked up whenever he thrust forwards in an attempt to pull him deeper. She wrapped her legs around him to try and urge him onwards, but he wouldn’t. He’d promised to be gentle, and unless she said the words, gentle was how he would stay.

“Please,” she said, an embarrassed blush warming her cheeks. “Harder.”

Thorax hesitated, although he couldn’t help from biting his lip at the words. “Are you sure?”

“You don’t have to keep asking.”

He was still uncertain, and so Ocellus leaned up to pull him in for another kiss. This one felt better. Perhaps she was getting used to it, or maybe it was just a result of passion now that she wanted him so badly and wasn’t overthinking it anymore. Either way, this one was different, and in the best possible way. This one left them both gasping when she broke away, and that symphony of emotion that poured of them was all the brighter for it.

“I’m sure,” she said, although the kiss had said everything already. “I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

It would hurt, Ocellus was pretty sure about that. But that was okay, she could take it. She wanted to take it.

And so when Thorax pushed in again, hard, his hips colliding with her, reaching deeper and further than he’d ever gotten before, Ocellus couldn’t help but cry out and clutch him tighter. And it did hurt – the almost familiar ache replaced by a sharp sting – but it was more than matched by the fiery satisfaction that came with it.

This was better. Yes, it hurt, but it was still better. Her mate needed to be strong, her mate needed to be powerful and rough, just like her brood would be. And Thorax might not have been the most physically impressive of her drones, but he was strong in a way that mattered far more. Stronger than any of the other drones, stronger than she was. Strong enough to stand up to Chrysalis, twice, and win.

And for all her insults and degradations, even Chrysalis must have thought so to let him mate with her, and Ocellus wondered if there was some grudging respect buried beneath her otherwise pure hatred. Either way, Thorax was perfect, and she was proud to have him as a father, prouder still to have him as her mate.

And even as her back arched and she moaned a little as he bucked into her, Ocellus couldn’t help but dwell on how this would end. He was going to rut her, impregnate her, be the father to their children. The same thought had seemed so terrifying before, but now as she tightened around Thorax and he gave a particularly hard thrust in return the idea just sent another rush of pleasure through her. Thorax was going to breed her, and she wanted nothing else.

Maybe the queen hadn’t entirely gone out of her after all.

The sharp sting had all but been replaced by warm, content pleasure – a rising, tantalising excitement that swelled with every single one of Thorax’s thrusts. His face was tightened with effort, and every time he pushed forward into her it was a little stronger, a little harder. Every time his grunt of effort and lust was a little louder, deeper, closer to a growl.

If the queen inside Ocellus was coming out in her lust then so too was the drone inside Thorax as his usual, nervous demeanour faded. He didn’t seem nervous, or scared, or worried. Thorax just seemed hungry, and as he fucked her – and it was fucking, now, Ocellus could feel the difference – his thrusts only grew more savage and bestial as instinct took over.

She clutched futilely at the bedcovers, as if that would do something to stop her head from spinning in pleasure, would keep her grounded, but it didn’t help. There was only Thorax and sex and breeding and nothing else, Ocellus losing herself completely in desire and want. If she’d known it could be like this, she’d never have hesitated. She’d have named Thorax as her mate from the start and pulled him to her bedchambers and let him do whatever he wanted, as long as it felt like this. As long as he promised this wouldn’t be the last time, that he would mate with her as many times as she asked, as many times as she needed. It wasn’t even about the hive anymore, or about her eggs, if it had ever been. It was only about him. Only Thorax.

And she could feel that pleasure rising up within her – surging, rushing, filling her. Each one of Thorax’s increasingly wild thrusts sending another shock of satisfaction through her. Her breaths coming in rapid pants as she tried to stammer out words.

“I’m going to...”

Ocellus couldn’t finish, her sentence devolving into another half-sigh, half-moan. She was so close, and even just forming words seemed too difficult, focusing on anything else was.

But Thorax knew what she meant anyway. “I’m close too,” he breathed, but again he didn’t need to, again his body had already told her everything. His cock seemed to get even thicker, even harder, his thrusts were erratic and needy even for Thorax, and she could see the tension in his jaw as he clenched his teeth together.

“You’re so tight,” he added, under his breath, and she wasn’t sure he intended to say that out loud, or if he even realised he had done.

But it was no surprise. Ocellus was small, yes, but also she’d been keeping such a tight grip on him without even thinking about it. She couldn’t help but try and hold him whenever he drew back, tightening around him in a purely instinctive attempt to keep him from pulling away.

Don’t leave. Stay, stay deep, give me everything. I want it all. I need it all.

And even if that wasn’t really how it worked, Ocellus couldn’t keep from feeling a little pang of need every time he drew back, leaving an impossible emptiness behind. Before, she had felt overwhelmingly full whenever Thorax buried himself inside her, but now she was used to it and it was the thought of him pulling out that was terrible instead, that made her chase after him with bucking hips, wrapping her hooves so tightly around him, clinging on as her body begged him to come back to her.

And then Thorax would always oblige and she would shudder and moan and rather than feeling full it was more like she would feel complete. Ocellus would feel like a queen again.

His thrusts were so rough now, his grunts so vicious, and when Ocellus came it was so hard and sudden that it almost took her by surprise. Her mounting pleasure tore through her at last, as she cried out her climax loud enough that the guards outside would almost certainly hear if they hadn’t already. Ocellus didn’t care. She wanted them to hear as their queen became who she was meant to be. The entire hive could know for all she cared, as long as it felt like this, as long as she could taste all of Thorax’s love for her as he rutted her into the bed and prepared to make her a mother.

Because that was what a queen was. A mother to her changelings, in every sense. Ocellus understood that now; she’d learned it from Chrysalis and now she could feel it too, every single part of her longing to feel Thorax fill her, breed her, make her the queen she was born to be. And even as the aftershocks of her orgasm shuddered through her she could still feel that longing, that incompleteness that only Thorax could fix.

And he was on the verge of doing just that, she could tell. He was so close, but for some reason he was holding back, something keeping him from just letting go and giving Ocellus what she so desperately needed. And then she realised.

He was waiting for her permission.

Maybe subconsciously, but that’s why he was holding back, why he was trying so hard not to cum. And that was okay, that was right – waiting for his queen’s permission was how it should be.

And she would give it to him.

Ocellus pulled Thorax close, kissed him gently, tenderly, and then whispered as he stared at her, enraptured. “Cum for me,” Ocellus murmured, and there was that reverberation in her voice again, but this time she wasn’t scared of it. This time it was born of desperate desire instead of fear and anger. “Be a good drone, and breed your queen.”

It was all the encouragement he needed.

Thorax shuddered as he thrust forward one last time, his hardest one yet, his grip on her so tight as he practically pinned her beneath him. She felt him flare even wider inside her, pushing as deep as he could, and then shooting warmth as he came inside her, each spurt accompanied by a low grunt of satisfaction, each pulse sending another satiated shiver through Ocellus. Again and again, and she felt that warmth surge within her, and then finally Thorax slumped down on top of her, exhausted and spent.

The warmth within Ocellus spread, settling through her, and somehow she knew that it was done. She was carrying a clutch of her own, now, and even though it was still a little scary there was an overwhelming sense of contentment at the thought that almost – but not quite – entirely drowned out her worry. She was a queen, she was a mother. She was made for this. And her brood would make the hive stronger, better. Her drones would love her, and unlike Chrysalis she wouldn’t need fear to cow them.

She kissed her father again, deeply, enjoying every bit of him. His taste, his scent – the tang of sex unmistakeable in the air. And together they lay like that for a long time, Thorax still hilted inside her until he softened and drew back into his sheath and left Ocellus feeling so empty once more.

She was sore, and tired, but in the best of ways. And as she lay there, wrapped in a loving embrace, Ocellus’ thoughts began to drift. For the first time since they’d returned, they didn’t drift back to the forest, back to pain and guilt and fear. Sharp teeth glinting in the darkness, reptilian, green eyes staring out between the trees and haunting her every waking moment since. Haunting her dreams, too, inescapable. Chrysalis’ laugh echoing in her mind when everything was quiet.

But not tonight. Not anymore. The only sound was Thorax’s breathing, the thump of his heart against her chest. The air full of their love for each other, as intertwined as the changelings themselves were. And her thoughts didn’t drift to the past now, but to the future. She wondered what laying a clutch would be like. That was scary, too, but not in the same way. Ocellus was sure it would come naturally, and Thorax would be there for her so she could always make it through, no matter what.

And she also wondered when she would next see her mother. She would see Chrysalis again, of that much Ocellus was certain. The old queen wouldn’t let this lie, wouldn’t ever give up on her hive or her revenge. And Ocellus knew that because she knew first-hoof what being Chrysalis was like.

She’d felt all that anger, all that hate, all that desperation that had turned her own carapace as black and twisted as Chrysalis’. She’d felt that longing for power that still lingered in the back of her mind, and she’d seen the damage and hurt it could cause if left unchecked. But even that wasn’t scary, not anymore.

Because Ocellus had the hive, and she had Thorax, and she’d never let that side of her take hold again. And whenever Chrysalis confronted her, Ocellus would be ready. Ocellus would be strong.

Ocellus would be a queen.

But that was for later, and her thoughts drifted further still, losing coherence and fading into that dreamlike place between sleep and waking as she snuggled into Thorax’s embrace. Like she had done back when she was a nymph, but it seemed so long ago now. And while she’d grown up, and while this was a very different embrace, it still held all of the comfort and love that she remembered, that Chrysalis had tried to make her forget.

Thorax hugged her close and murmured under his breath. “Thank you, Ocellus.”

Ocellus didn’t know how to reply. She didn’t think she needed to. Instead she just held him tighter, and soon the little queen sank contentedly into sleep, nestled in her father’s hooves.