"Love you, just the way you are"


                                            “Love you, just the way you are”


                                            [Nignogs reached out to make a fantastic piece of a scene from the story, from around line 425. The link is here: u.smutty.horse/lyzvgsxjiah.png]


                                            > The soft clicks of chitin hooves hitting the hardened surface of generations old hive rock could be heard echoing down the corridor.

                                            > The walls were softly lit by bioluminescent fungi, placed strategically on pillars with adequate spacing, allowing for visitors to navigate this far into the impregnable fortress that was the great Badlands Hive.

                                            > For eons, it had stood the test of time, wars, skirmishes and invasions. All had attempted to knock down its walls to their foundation. All had failed.

                                            > And walking down this corridor was none other but its very queen herself.

                                            > Queen Chrysalis the first, Whole-born Queen, and Matriarch of Wastes.

                                            > Ever since the failed invasion of Canterlot, the various infighting amongst the ruling hive queens and the tiring love drought, things had been looking dreary for the recently ascended queen.

                                            > The last months trying events could not be seen on the queen’s form, however.

                                            > A positively content energy emanated from her. Her mane was lush and shining, and her legs and horn had filled out into the perfect shape of a proper Whole-born Queen, free from the characteristic holes of the changeling race.

                                            > Her thighs, belly and loins had grown bigger and stronger from the steady flow of love she had gathered, and her horn radiated arcane might. Her chest was broader and sturdier, as was her shoulders and neck.

                                            > Gone was every trace of the starved hungering beast. In its place was this creature of feminine temptation and maternal grace.

                                            > She was also quite sure she had the biggest teats this side of the Ghastly Gorge.

                                            > Indeed, Chrysalis had grown into the perfect resemblance of a changeling brood mother of the old legends, from before the unification.

                                            > Humming the tunes of an old nursery rhyme, she moved unwavering to her destination, at the end of the hall. A great pair of onyx doors made from shiny hive marble.

                                            > The doors was flanked on either side by a pair of behemoth changelings. Towering drone specimen fed concentrated love throughout their lives, allowing them to grow the size and capability to go head to head with the toughest of adversaries.

                                            > Though their aptitude for subterfuge and stealth is all but non-existent, they could go hoof to hoof against a battalion of Canterlot soldiers, and come out on top.

                                            > A heavy investment for any changeling hive, but well worth it, to protect that which the queen held so dear.

                                            > A small greeting nod is all the signal the humongous creatures needed to step down from their post and allow her entry.

                                            > With a gentle heave of changeling telekinesis, the black doors open up, revealing a wide bedchamber, coloured in relaxed cerulean hues. In its centre sits a luxurious bed, lined with aqua marine coloured silk and pillows.

                                            > The soft light from a magical lamp illuminates a corner of the bed, and its sole inhabitant as he looks to her.

                                            > “Hey honey, how was your day?”, comes the cheerful question from Anonymous in pyjamas, as he puts down his book, and pats the vacant side of the bed next to him.

                                            > Taking a calming breath of her husband’s scent and devotion, the changeling queen allowed herself a moment of happiness with a warm smile in greeting.

                                            “Dreadful, but all the better now that I’m by your side again”, Chrysalis replies.

                                            > Scooting hastily to the bed, throwing away the covers, and snuggling up to his side, the snug bug in a rug that is the changeling queen heaves a long sigh.

                                            “You have no idea how much I needed this,” she sighs, closing her eyes and pressing into his form. “I’m positively starving.”

                                            > The mighty Whole-born Queen of the changelings, the first of her name, Matriarch of the Wastes, Chrysalis, jolts with a start, as she realizes her astronomical mistake.

                                            > Turning to look at her king, her consort in everything, she sees his features twist, his brows rises, his smirks widens, and his lips draw back to reveal pearly canines in a barely withheld guffaw.

                                            > His face turns to hers, as their eyes lock. They both know it is inevitable. It always was.

                                            > “Hi Starving, I’m Ano-“.

                                            “Finish that sentence and I’ll have you turned into a gelding,” Chrysalis hiss.

                                            > Chuckling in his usual whimsical way, Anonymous pats her flank to calm his justifiably irate wife, and places a small peck on the top of her head.

                                            > “I love you too, honey. Tell me about your meeting with the other queens.”

                                            > Chrysalis mewls at the contact, indulging in the freely given love, as she mulls over how she is going to breach the topic.

                                            “…They are concerned that we are aiming to usurp their hives,” she says after a long pause.

                                            > Anonymous’ smile falters a bit, but maintains some of its infectious humor as he begins tracing small circles with his hand on top of the queens thigh.

                                            > Anonymous drops his head down beside her ear. “Are they that jealous of you filling out in ~aaaaaaall~ the right places, honey?”, he asks huskily, whispering the last words.

                                            > “A Whole-born changeling queen, with the stature, might and figure to go head to head with the Sun princess herself…”, he continues on, squeezing her thigh with a warm hand.

                                            > Shuddering at the intimacy of his actions, Chrysalis steels her nerves, and places a hoof at his forearm to stop his – highly appreciated – affection.

                                            “You would not understand, beloved. It- it is of concerns from before… us.”

                                            > Noticing her nervousness, Anonymous retreats to his side of the bed. She can sense that he feels her trepidation, and respects her wish for a rational answer.

                                            > He sits further up, using one hand to steady himself, and another to give her chitinous shoulder a reassuring pat.

                                            > “Try me,” he says.

                                            > Letting out a frustrated hiss at her situation, Chrysalis looks to him, and begins explaining.

                                            “You know of the behemoth vanguard outside our chambers, right?”

                                            > Anonymous nods and smiles again. “Yea, big loveable logs. They’re kinda hard to miss.”

                                            > Looking at the closed doors, shortly grasping mentally at the mountainous hive mind just outside their chambers, Chrysalis sighs for the hundredth time that day.

                                            “What I am about to tell you is changeling politics and military strong hoofing. This must be kept between us, beloved.”

                                            > Nodding his consent silently, Anonymous turns to face her in full.

                                            “... Behemoths are… in nearly every sense of the word… a wasteful use of Ambrosia, pure love extract. The extract is extremely rare, extremely powerful, and its magic properties lets it bring beings from the very brink of death, back to life.”

                                            > Chrysalis stops for a second to gather her thoughts, looking down at the bed lining before she continues.

                                            “They need a considerable portion of it monthly to sustain their bodies, their strength and their magic. Without it, they would wither away, having been an even greater drain to the hive.”

                                            > “What’s the issue then? We have the four biglings outside, keeping watch, and probably another three or four stationed around the hi-“

                                            “We don’t ‘only’ have eight behemoths, Anonymous. Our hive sustains 17 behemoths,” comes the dull continuation.

                                            > The king’s jaw – to his credit – goes slack as he ponders her answer.

                                            > “Oh… I take that is a lot of Ambrosia, then?”

                                            > Nodding her agreement, Chrysalis continues.

                                            “It’s a veritable mountain of it, beloved. A regular changeling could survive for years from a ration the size of a plate. With the might of ten behemoths, the Badlands Hive could take on every other hive on the continent at once.

                                            > “So… with another seven of them on top, it looks like we might go to war with Canterlot.”

                                            > Chrysalis snorts in a dry laughter as she rests her head in the lap of her king.

                                            “We would not go to war, beloved. It would be a simple conquest. No other hive has had this many since… well, ever. With nearly two dozen behemoths, one of the largest gatherings of loyal changelings, and a love filled Whole-born Queen…”

                                            > Chrysalis sighs as she lays down on the bedding, sighing as his fingers massage her scalp.

                                            “We would be unstoppable.”

                                            > Chuckling again, Anonymous bows his head to pepper her mane with kisses. “So, honey, why don’t you? Why don’t you subjugate the opposing queens and their masses, and make for Canterlot?”

                                            > Chrysalis raises her head and looks into his eyes. A brief moment of silence passes between them.

                                            “I… would not risk this.” She mutters. “I am content with my lot in life.”

                                            > The king’s left eyebrow travels a fraction of an inch and a teasing smile cracks his facade. “Oh, really now? The great changeling powerhouse of the Wastes is ‘content’?”

                                            > Chrysalis narrows her eyes, as she stares at her mate.

                                            “Why do you think I do this, beloved? Why I ordered the hive to pour humongous amounts of work and resources into expanding and fortifying this already insurmountable citadel? Why I ordered the nursery to make me two dozen behemoths, despite their costs? Why I ordered five times the amount of patrols out there, in the Wastes?”

                                            > As she speaks, her tone and intensity accelerates, until she reaches a vocal peak. Her eyes soften, and her mouth closes with a soft clack.

                                            “I did it for you,” she says.

                                            “You are the single greatest thing that has ever happened to this hive, to its subjects… to me…” Chrysalis continues meekly. “Your love knows no bounds, no discrimination or hatred towards my lings. It’s the purest love we’ve ever had.”

                                            > The queen’s head sinks to absentmindedly look in the folds of the delicate bed cloth.

                                            “A Whole-born Queen is made to rule, beloved. Ever since my… growth spurt, I have felt the emotions of the other queens. A regular queen can not sense it, but an almighty ruler must know of internal threats and upsets.”

                                            > Anonymous carefully places his hands on either side of her muzzle, and bring her up to face him again.

                                            > “What frightens you, honey?”

                                            > Chrysalis does not look him in the eyes as she recalls the vileness of her fellow queens.

                                            “They know of you. They know of your unending love for me. They know of your constitution, of how your love has no end. And they fear me. Their heads are clouded with thoughts of queen slaying, jealousy and most of all, maddening fear. They want you for themselves, enthralled to their hives.”

                                            > The human begins carefully stroking her face in slow and methodical patterns.

                                            “I… I am afraid, Anonymous”, she says, quivering. “The first Whole-born Queen in millennia… I am so afraid of losing you,” she continues. “I had the behemoths ordered to stand guard in every corridor leading to this inner sanctum. You would not notice them, for they are hidden even from the hive mind.”

                                            > The humans slow petting stops.

                                            > The changeling queen heaves an empty chortle.

                                            “Behemoths are beasts of war, beloved. Employing two or three of them to protect a hive is unorthodox but still justifiable... Having so many to guard a single being is sin…” Her voice trails off.

                                            “But I do not care for the melodramatics of the other queens!” Her voice grows and a fire flares in her eyes. ”To the pits of Tartarus with their schemes and jealousy! I have no dreams of conquest, not anymore. I just want to keep everything as they are, right now.”

                                            > Silence reigns for a long time as Anonymous studies her face.

                                            > “You are…” He begins. “Oh honey…”

                                            > Anonymous begins placing delicate pecks on her snout, as she closes her eyes.

                                            > “You. Are. Without. A. Doubt. The. Most. Loveable. Bugbutt. In. The. World.” He says, each word paused with a kiss.

                                            > Giggling at his whimsical antics, Chrysalis looks her betrothed king in the eyes, exchanging breaths from the closeness of their faces.

                                            “Where would we… where would I be without you?”

                                            > The kisses halts, as he contemplates his answer.

                                            > “Hmm, probably still here”, he asserts determined. “Granted, no biglings, and there would probably be fewer smolllings as well. However, you would still be here, honey,” he says, planting a big smooch on her snout. “You would not give up.”

                                            > Chrysalis scrunches intensely, both from the contact and the wave of affection clashing into her. She plants her hooves on his shoulders, pushing him back onto the blankets with her following his motion as she straddles his midsection.

                                            > Anonymous chuckles as he looks up at his queen in adoration, his eyes trailing down her sleek and powerful neckline, to her chest, down her front till his gaze catches her luminescent abdomen.

                                            > Its light has grown over the last couple of weeks, and its translucent surface lets someone close enough see the contours of large, oval…

                                            > With his face dropping into a similar oval shape, Anonymous looks at the face of the now beaming queen.

                                            “I thought I’d keep it a secret a little bit longer.”

                                            > The king looks down at the belly of his wife, placing one hand on her wide thigh, and another on her midriff.

                                            > The soft green glow grows in intensity as he stares at it, head filled with nervousness and love.

                                            > “Are they… you know?” he asks.

                                            > The innocent tone of his question catches the queen by surprise, evoking a soft laughter. It quickly fades as she sees the saddened look on his face.

                                            “No, not yet,” she starts.

                                            “But they are ready for it, and I have a hunch you might be helpful in assuring that.”

                                            > A predatory grin slips on the king’s face as realisation dawns on him.

                                            > “I was hoping you would say that,” he smirks.

                                            > Chrysalis horn flares up, and his clothing disappears in the blink of an eye.

                                            > She does not need her psychic powers to feel the sweltering lusting for her or her body exuding from her mate beneath her.

                                            > Nor does his hungry eyes roaming her form, his hands stroking her legs in worship or his heavy breathing of her scent declare his unrestrained desire as much as his raging erection.

                                            > She can feel its shape straining defiantly against the confines of her plump rear, pushing teasingly against her marehood and staining her dock and tail with pre.

                                            > Mewling in delight, Chrysalis lifts her body to reorientate and lower herself on him, as she kisses his face wildly.

                                            > A pleased purr rumbles from deep within her chest as she feel him finding entrance and filling her up. Anonymous' breath catches in his throat as he throws his head back into a pillow, a low moan crossing his lips.

                                            > “Oh honey~”

                                            > Nickering, Chrysalis stops her kisses, and leans back, swallowing up more of his length in her burning nethers. Feeling her hold of her mate, she begins rhythmically squeezing down on his length.

                                            “Is- is it to your liking, beloved? Is it everything you–you hoped for, my king?” she asks, traces of jitters in her voice.

                                            > Anonymous lifts his head and looks back at her. “You are incredible, Chryssi,” he says, as he begins thrusting his hips upwards, eliciting a myriad of squeaks from the changeling.

                                            “Ha-h I kne- knew it! I alwa- always knew it!” Chrysalis’ ragged breaths hitches every now and then, to the tempo of his thrusts and her hip's motions. Her eyes are pinched shut in euphoria as the feeling of his boundless love and cock propels her senses to ever higher levels.

                                            > Anonymous’ hands are clenching tightly onto her thighs, feeling the subtle give of softened chitin and sturdy muscles working underneath.

                                            > Only the soft moans and whines from the two of them breaks the calm of the chamber, with her softly glowing belly casting eerie shadow plays on the walls.

                                            > One of his hands moves further in from her leg, down towards her nethers, cupping one of her ample teats. Massaging the supple orb in his hand, his fingers soon find a small teal nipple, and begins rolling it between his thumb and index finger.

                                            > With a screaming crescendo in the form of a loud moan to the heavens, and a tense grip from her nethers, she comes.

                                            > Her marehood clasps down on Anonymous’ member, undulating in its endeavour to drain him of his essence…

                                            > With frazzled breaths, Chrysalis starts to wind down, enjoying the cozy feeling of a love filled afterglow. She looks down at her king’s face, hoping to find the same peace filled look on his features.

                                            > Instead, he looks back at her with barely held mirth, and happy eyes.

                                            “Wha- what’s the matter, beloved? Is something wrong?”

                                            > “No, not in the slightest. I know you know how much I enjoy seeing you like this. Passionate, true to yourself, and oh so greedy,” he answers in a husky tone.

                                            “’Greedy’? What do you mean ‘Greedy’?” She demands, her face scrunching in annoyance. “Was it not to your liking aft- after all?”

                                            > Anonymous lays his head down onto the sheets, taking in a deep breaths to catch his bearing.

                                            “Would you rather have bedded that thrice-damned Celestia?” Chrysalis continues. “I can change, you know, I have a whole repertoire of shapes. Wo-would you rather lay with a gryphon? I c-can do that! I will even do a cry-crystal pony, if that’s what you desire.” She asks, her voice growing frail as she works herself up into a small panic.

                                            > “Oh Chrysalis, you know I only want you,” Anonymous whispers as he leans towards her, carefully hugging her midsection, standing from the bed. He turns on the spot, gingerly placing her back down on the bed.

                                            > “I should have guessed all this bottled up love and the recent stress might have given you a… sensitive trigger”, he whispers into her ear, lightly nipping at the tip.

                                            > Chrysalis squirms in his grasp, still feeling sparks of exhilaration from her recent high.

                                            “Easy, beloved. I- I am still se~…” she breathlessly plead.

                                            > “Rest, honey, and let me handle things,” he murmurs besides her head.

                                            > Anonymous starts retreating off her frame, placing delicate kisses down her form, as he makes to stand beside the bed. Grabbing her powerful thighs, he drags her to him at the edge of the bed.

                                            > “I never meant anything mean with what I said. I just meant that we have all the time in the world to enjoy one another,” he continues, as he began teasing her sultry pussy with the tip of his cock.

                                            > Whinnying in barely withheld anticipation, Chrysalis took a hoof to her muzzle to stifle her sounds.

                                            > With a smooth push, Anonymous presses his length back in, starting with a slow and methodical pace. His thrusts are firm and unyielding, pushing from the very tip, till their hips meet in passionate greeting.

                                            > No feverish rush.

                                            > No hasty sexual dash.

                                            > No careless fucking.

                                            > This was deeper, more meaningful, more heartfelt. This was not sex. This was not fucking. At that moment, Chrysalis understood a great many things. What Anonymous had meant. What he had felt. What he was doing.

                                            > He exclusively meant to breed her.

                                            > To make a proper brood mother of her.

                                            >The one thing she had always pined after, hoping to make her own. The realisation roared in her mind, rekindling her passion and joy to the act.

                                            > Soft moans began filling the bedroom, as their lovemaking maintains its measured pattern. And this time, it’s different. She starts noticing his feelings. His joy in seeing her like this, his pleasure derived from her, how much he wishes for their act to bear fruit.

                                            > And it fills her heart of hearts with bliss.

                                            > His hands and arms are no longer roaming, but easily propping up her legs, gently stroking their shape. His focus is only on her, her senses and her pleasure.

                                            > Her climax is slower, but reaches so far deeper into her being. Her build up is a wondrous leisurely stroll, taking its time to warm up her entire being, from the tip of her hooves, to the top of her curved horn.

                                            “Ano-Anonymous, I’m so close.”

                                            > He smiles an assuring grin. “That’s it, Chryssi. Don’t force it, relax and let it take you.”

                                            > She does, and like a tidal wave, it washes over her. Her entire body thrashing as Anonymous keeps his ever-steady pace throughout its entirety.

                                            > Throughout her culminations, the one thing that has remained constant is her king’s pacing.

                                            …

                                            > She has culminated twice, before she starts to feel Anonymous twitch, but still he keeps his deliberate rhythm. When he finally comes, she reaches yet another high. Feeling his jerking cock inside of her envelopes her in jubilation, a primal part of her sense having been fulfilled at the thought of being thoroughly bred.

                                            > She can feel it, the fickle warm feeling as his seed finds her eggs. Each egg finding it partner slowly starts lighting up, adding to her already persistent glow.

                                            > Slowly, her king withdraws from her marehood, and lays down beside her, panting.

                                            > “Honey… did you use that aphrodisiac pheromone you mentioned a couple of weeks back?”

                                            > Turning her head to Anonymous, she smiles.

                                            “Only a teeny tiny bit, beloved.”

                                            > “Huh… works pretty well.”


                                            -------------------**-------------------


                                            > Chrysalis gently stirred from her sleep, to the feeling of soft butterfly kisses on her jaw. Giggling like a filly, she squirmed in the embrace of her bed mate. The delicate touch of Anonymous’ arm wrapped around her form, to snuggle her tightly to his broad chest.

                                            > His other hand was tracing gentle rings on her steadily glowing belly, sending small tickling arcs through her midst.

                                            > Anonymous, sensing her shifting breathing, moved his head to her ear. “Morning, snuggle bug”, his baritone voice echoed delightfully in her head.

                                            “Good morning to you too, beloved,” she murmured.

                                            > Turning her head, Chrysalis opened her eyes to take in his visage.

                                            > His hair was messy and much too long, halfway giving him the look of a savage. A stubble covered his jawline and neck. His cologne was fading, shifting over his scent into his own natural musk.

                                            > Raising her hoof, Chrysalis booped his nose.

                                            “You need a shave. Badly.”

                                            > Smiling, Anonymous dragged a hand across his face. “Bah, it’s surely not that bad,” he began, twisting his body to grab a small mirror from the bedside table. “I kinda like the more roguish look.”

                                            > Turning to stand, Chrysalis made for the adjacent bathroom, to have the first shower - and hopefully clean off the potent, lingering scent of a male from her frame.

                                            “Rugged rogue or not, you are still a ruling king, ‘your majesty’”, her voice drivelled through the crack in the door. “Our subjects would rather flee from you, than come to you for advice. You should be presentable.”

                                            > Adjusting the knobs, Chrysalis closed her eyes and stepped into the heated sprinkle of underground spring water.

                                            > She could hear Anonymous get up from the bed, surely to grab a robe from one of the hidden closets in the wall. Sensing the love energy cascading off him coming closer, she peeked behind the blinds as the water washed over her.

                                            > “Say, honey, what’s the name of the royal hairstylist, again?” he asked, turning his head around the agape door with a thoughtful look on his face.

                                            “Atta, beloved.”

                                            > Nodding his understanding and scratching his stubbles, Anonymous looked to have made up his mind. “What’re your plans for the day?” he asked.

                                            > A sour look crossed her muzzle.

                                            “I am afraid I’ll have to go back to the council with the other queens. Yesterday was only a formality, the initial presentation, the official greeting and the oath of Sanctuary”, Chrysalis explained. “With all the formalities, we only had time to shortly graze the most pressing topics.”

                                            > Stepping into the dampening moist air, Anonymous looked at her with empathy. “Would it help if I went alongside with you?”

                                            “Under no circumstances can you come to the meeting!” she snarled, her face scrunching in defensive self-righteousness. Her head swimming with thoughts of what the other queens might try, should he show up.

                                            > Immediately holding his hands up in a disarming fashion, he continued. “Easy there, honey, if you don’t want me interrupting your meeting, I won’t.”

                                            > Annoyance and frustration burned out of Chrysalis, as fast as they had come roaring to life.

                                            “I… I am sorry, beloved. It is just, I have no idea what plots and schemes the other queens have already crafted to get to you. It is simply too dangerous for you to be there.”

                                            > Walking to stand beside the shower, Anonymous cupped her face in his hands. “I understand, honey. I just wish things weren’t like so.”

                                            > Looking further down her body, his eyes caught her vibrant midsection. “Besides, it’s not just me we have to take care of, anymore. You best believe I will be beside your bed with homemade cooking when you are a big, grumpy, brooding momma.”

                                            > A heavy blush found its way on Chrysalis face, as the earnest declaration of adoration for her took hold.

                                            “Y-You too”, she stammered.

                                            > Snickering at her stumbles, Anonymous released her face, taking on a more solemn look as he placed a hand on her chest. “Listen to what I said, honey. You carry our future foals, the labour of our love. Take care of yourself.”

                                            > The sense of magnitude his words carried left her breathless, staring adoringly into his twinkling eyes.

                                            > Placing one last chaste kiss on her cheek, he turned to leave. “I’ll go get shaved so you can finish up here, before your meeting.”

                                            “Anonymous,” came the off-pitch yelp. “When I get back…” Chrysalis trailed off again.

                                            > “Yes, honey?” he asked, Cheshire smile threatening to spill out.

                                            “When I get back, could you maybe do that thing with the scented oil with my hooves again…?” she asked, fidgeting in place as her last words trail off into a murmur.

                                            > Snickering good-heartedly, he nodded. “Mint or lavender?”

                                            > “Mint! You know how I hate lavender.”


                                            > A good fifteen minutes later and two rigorous washings later, Chrysalis entered the large hall outside her bedchamber. Despite her best efforts – and the workings of an imported gryphon deep scrub – she could still smell dim fragments of Anonymous scent.

                                            > Snorting in annoyance at her wasted effort, she looked to the two remaining behemoths standing watch outside. They were easily two and a half times her height, even after her growth, with legs the size of tree trunks, and horns the size of full-length dragoneer harpoons.

                                            > Their shells were shining in the dim light of the hall, with no blemishes or cracks along the exterior armor plating. Woe to the unwelcome intruders that stumbled upon one of these leviathans.

                                            > For the moment, though, she had their undivided attention, as they stood firm and vigilant. “Blessed mornings, Allmother”, came the greeting from one of them, as it kneeled.

                                            “Good morning, Caci”, came her reply. “Good morning to you too, Albo.”

                                            > Likewise prostrating herself as her sister, Albo bowed. “Blessed mornings, Allmother. His majesty, Allfather, left with the rest of the royal squadron to find the royal mane stylist, one ‘Atta’,” she reported.

                                            “I expected as much, thank you.” Chrysalis replied. “I will be…” she started, halting as the ever-reasonable voice of her mate echoed in her mind.

                                            > ‘You carry our foals…’

                                            > Looking over the two behemoths for a moment in silence, Chrysalis made up her mind.

                                            “I want the two of you to accompany me to the Sanctuary as honour guards,” she declared.

                                            > The heads of the two sisters swivelled upwards in apparent bewilderment, exchanging a glance between the two of them, before returning to her. “But Allmother, usually it is only you alone who go to the meeting. Well, you and the royal notary.” Albo said.

                                            > Tapping her horn for emphasis, Caci continued. “And we aren’t skilled in hornwriting. Indeed, we would crack the tiny pen if we tried grabbing it...”

                                            > Seeing Chrysalis’ deadpan look from their explanations, Caci bowed her head. “For the hive, Allmother.”

                                            > Nodding and smiling at their consent, Chrysalis turned to walk, the two behemoths falling in line with her in the middle. Both of them kept a respectful distance, yet remaining within distance to strike down any would-be assassins.

                                            > A Whole-born Queen could never be too careful.

                                            > In comparison to her own steps, those of the two behemoths echoed greatly in the silent hall as they walked the endless paths towards the outside.

                                            > The occasional window to the outside assisted the sporadically placed light pillars to light up the passages in the warm glow of the early morning sun. As they walked, they passed several embrasures in the walls, with armaments and spears standing close by.

                                            > The construction and expansion of the hive had added many a new additions to the existing defences.

                                            > Heavy ballista’s with their broad oaken arms stood firmly planted on the floor, flanked by mounts with barbed highpoons. Each fearsome spear hooked to heavy iron chains for bringing down mighty dragons with ease.

                                            > Small and sturdy arbalests hung from racks, with quivers of iron tipped broadhead arrows for shooting pegasi out of the sky. The detrimental effects of iron on pony magics would mean even stray scrapes could incapacitate the flying pests.

                                            > As it was still early morning, they would only come across the occasional lookout, or guardling, standing watch at their designated post.

                                            > All stopped and kneeled, offering their salutations and respect to her.

                                            > As they walked, Chrysalis kept catching Caci stealing peeks over her shoulder, to look down at her. The coursing curiosity flowing in the mind of her ensemble was easily sensed by her keen empathy magic.

                                            “Is something the matter, guardling?” she asked, a small part of humour honeying her words.

                                            > Realising her mistake, Caci shrugged nonchalantly, trying to diffuse the awkwardness of the question. “Nothing at all, all mother. I was just wondering.”

                                            “About what?” Chrysalis pressed on.

                                            > “Well,” Caci said stiffly. “With all due respects, Allmother, I couldn’t help but notice the lighting from your, uhm, midst.”

                                            > Blinking owlishly, Chrysalis looked to the smooth wall next to her, noting how indeed she was casting a potent light off the reflective hive rock.

                                            “Huh, well, I guess I am pretty glowing,” she said, recalling the effect of hers and Anonymous lovemaking on her egg clutches. She had hoped it was not as noticeable in brighter surroundings, though.

                                            > Caci continued. “I was just wondering if everything was as they should. When you had come out from the royal chambers, you had the scent of his highness clinging to you – more so than usual, at least,” the changeling finished quietly.

                                            > Chrysalis mouth opened. And closed it. If it would have been any other subject than a behemoth, such details would have been pointedly ignored, and any questions quelled. She was still getting used to the more independent thought processing gifted to the giants.

                                            > Well, that combined with the large quantity of time spent close to the royal couple, it was no wonder their guards had noticed.

                                            “That is… for a later time, Caci. Anonymous and I will make a statement when we see it fit,” Chrysalis explained, a mask of royalty slipping over her face.

                                            > Giving a small salute, the guard turned her head back forwards, seemingly happy with her queen's reasoning, or lack thereof.

                                            > Making their way down to the central entrance of the hive, the enormous twin doors leading outside stood open to let in the still frail sunlight, and a warming breeze.

                                            > As with the royal chambers, the entrance was heavily guarded, by both behemoths and the smaller armed pheidoles, soldier cast changelings. All of the regular sizes changelings had armour and weapons forged of hive marble and obsidian equipped or within easy range of their position.

                                            > While the behemoths stationed out here towered above all their comrades, their stature and bulk were a fraction short of her accompanying guards. Well, it was only natural to save her best ace for last, in the case of a successful siege, Chrysalis mused.

                                            > Nodding to her once again bowing subjects, she turned a sharp right, towards the south. The great sun shielding tents of the Sanctuary stood out from the otherwise monotone wasteland as giant sails in the soft current.

                                            > Beneath the drifting sails of weave stood the simple platform named Sanctuary, with the wide onyx hued table carved out on top. It had stood for time immemorial, as past queens had met and negotiated agreements, offers and demands.

                                            > Large crystalline decanters and goblets with refreshing ambrosia stood proudly on its face, reflecting in the still low sunlight. Serving pure love as a simple a refreshment was lavish, but none the less, also a signal of power in the minds of the royal attendees.

                                            > As her ensemble got closer, Chrysalis could make out the shapes of the already assembled queens.

                                            > The lilac coloured Queen Buddleia of the Baltimare hive. Buddleia bore a dull expression, her head turned to look at the ever-constant land surrounding Sanctuary, as she tapped impatiently on the table surface. It did not take the skill of empathy to sense her clear annoyance towards being dragged to the gathering.

                                            > To her right, sat Queen Noctuid of the Hollow Shades. Her reserved demeanour a stark contrast to her table partner. The queen’s ashen grey mane and fluffy wings left the impression of huge moth.

                                            > Next again, was Queen Mentha, hailing from the frigid Luna Bay. The only thing colder than her icy eyes and aqua mane was her manners. She regarded her fellow queens with no sign of either affection or annoyance towards one or the other.

                                            > Lastly, conversing enthusiastically to her stock still associate was Queen Albuna of the secluded Forbidden Jungle hive to the south. The region was abundant with dangerous beasts and dangers, a jarring contradiction to the carefree nature of its queen.

                                            > As per customs, only the queens sat at the table, with their respective honour guards watching from the edge of the sails. Chrysalis noticed with no small sense of glee that while she was not the only one bringing behemoths along, Buddleia’s single behemoth looked downright malnourished next to hers, while Noctuid’s pair was hardly reaching their shoulder height.

                                            > As the table occupants inevitably noticed her guards, the talks faded out, as they watched. With the two lings assuming their designated post, Chrysalis continued on alone, now the centre of the table’s attention. Flicks of yesterday’s jealousy and anger flared from across the gathered.

                                            > Buddleia’s barely held anger and contempt of her was the most palpable, with its touch almost clouding the air around the queen. The two of them had butted horns before, viciously even, but the opportunity had not come up after Chrysalis’ growth to whole-born.

                                            > Noctuid’s blank façade did little to hide her jealousy of Chrysalis' growth and the Badlands Hive’s growth. After all, the Hollow Shades hive used to be the most powerful, with its sheltered position near the centre of Equestria.

                                            > Unsurprisingly, Menthas calmness was as impregnable as ever, as was her emotions. Still, Chrysalis could catch the telltale traces of fear of her newly grown power and might. The Luna Bay hive was, after all, the smallest hive, and could be trampled by just about any of the other. Annihilating it would be a trivial matter.

                                            > Lastly, was the youngest Queen Albuna. Her cherry outwards appearance was perfect, but her emotions revealed a ravenous deep pit of self-doubt, and insecurity.

                                            “Blessed mornings, Queens,” she greeted, hoping to start the meeting on a positive note.

                                            > “You are late, Queen Chrysalis,” came the dry response from Noctuid.

                                            > Ears turning back in ire, Chrysalis turned her head towards the appointed notary with a questioning look. The drone procured a small sun watch and studied it. She shook her head back.

                                            “Queen Noctuid, I am not late as the sun has not yet passed mid mornings. I am just the last to arr-.

                                            > “Guess the fae's clutches hang tighter some mornings, aye?”, came the mocking interrupting drab from Buddleia, as she elbowed her side companion, hoping to garner some mirth.

                                            > Feeling her griff around her neck flutter in indignation, Chrysalis reigned in her emotions, and turned calmly.

                                            “He is not fae, you reprobate. He’s a human.”

                                            > Guffawing, Buddleia continued. “Fae, human, ironcursed both of them. What is the difference anyhow, as you’d lay with one another?" She asked.

                                            “Well, at least I don’t have to resort to begging like a pony to have a mate warm my blankets,” came the sharp reply. Judging from the immediate effect on the opposing queen's poise and emotions, Chrysalis had hit a soft spot.

                                            > Slamming her hooves down on the table at the jab, Buddleia rose to her full height wings splayed and fangs bared.

                                            > “Ooooh, that’s really bucking rich, coming from you, after your roaring success in the North.”

                                            > Albuna chuckled good heartedly at the exchanging barrage, while Mentha was busy flicking dust specs off the table, distant from the ongoing escapade. Noctuid on the other hoof, looked on in exasperation.

                                            > Before Chrysalis had a chance to retort, she was interrupted by the soothing void from the ashen queen. “Ladies. Now is not the time for mindless bickering like whimsical stallions,” Noctuid said.

                                            > Snorting in defiance, Buddleia dropped down in her chair again, as Noctuid’s gaze roamed around the gathered, looking for opposition. Chrysalis narrowed her eyes, but remained silent.

                                            > “Now then, with yesterday’s rites passed, we can move on to the more pressing matters,” Noctuid continued. “We have the ongoing situation with the mating hydra pair down south, near the Amber hive. Due to the pair’s size and natural aggression, Albuna has requested outside help, to join with her forces and out the two.

                                            > Albuna nodded enthusiastically. “We could reeeeaaaaally use some help. The nest is close to the hive’s pollen sites, and their presence slows our foraging for the loveless months down to a crawl. I already have twenty wounded crop workers in the infirmary, with another five close calls.”

                                            > Buddleia chimed in. “How old are they? Are they mature, or just fooling around?”

                                            > “We estimate them to be about 56 summers each, they are some mighty big ones. They are nursing three newly hatched. My hive only have a dozen squadrons battle ready, but they have never come across a hydra, let alone two.” she responded, griff rustling in frustration.

                                            > Putting her head in her hooves, Buddleia began moving around small cups and decanters on the table like miniatures on a war table. “If it takes twenty squadrons to drive out a single hydra…”

                                            “It’ll take at least sixty to kill them off, considering hydras territorial nature and ferocity guarding their young,” Chrysalis summarised.

                                            > Silenced ruled across the table, as the scale of the request settled.

                                            > “Or a single behemoth,” came the dry afterthought from Mentha.

                                            > Noctuid looked to her fellow queen, brows wrinkling in thought. “That is a… possibility,” she consented”. “A behemoth could do it. But the only hives that has any to begin with, is the Hollow Shades, the Baltimare, and the Badlands Hive.”

                                            > “The Hollow Shades might be too far away,” Albuna said. “We need them driven off or killed yesterweek.”

                                            > Buddleias eyes widened and her mouth opened, as the dots connected in her head.

                                            > “If you are thinking of offering your services, I suggest feeding the poor thing some of your decanter’s ambrosia first, dear,” Noctuid said. “She looks about ready to topple over from the journey here, much less ready of facing a nesting hydra-dame”.

                                            > With a low hiss from the jab, Buddleia closed her mouth. The rest of the queens turned towards Chrysalis, her feeling yet again as the centre of attention.

                                            > While she did have the hive-power to do so, it would be costly. The logistics and guards to accompany the behemoth would again mandate further supplies. Infirmary workers and assistants, tools and materials to take care of any wounds… To speak nothing of the ambrosia!

                                            > The travel would have to be by ground as the behemoths wings could only carry it short distances, further slowing down the process and increasing supply demand. It would no doubt weaken her ability to enact her full power. But again, it could also help win over an ally hive.

                                            “I… I will extend a helping hoof in Albuna’s time of need. The Badlands Hive will send two behemoths to vanquish the hydras and their young. The Badlands Hive will supply provisions and protection for the behemoths in return for accommodations and low level resupplying for their return. For the greater hive,” Chrysalis asserted lastly. Albuna gave a short cheer, as she smiled profusely back at her.

                                            > The feeling of gratitude and relief gushed from the amber queen, speaking volumes of the victory Chrysalis had won with the southern hives gratitude.

                                            > With a dampened smile, Noctuid turned to the scribe. “Did you catch that, dear?”

                                            > Nodding dutifully, the drone answered. “Yes, your highness.”

                                            > “Splendid. With that taken care off, we have the reported desertions to the newly founded Chrystal Empire hive to discuss,” Noctuid said, looking down at a small parchment. “With the arrival of the newly crowned king Thorax, small hives in the region have all but consigned to him, undergoing voluntary metamorphosis.”

                                            > Mentha took over. “The Luna Bay hive has lost approximately two hundred lings to the honeyed words of the fallen king,” she nagged, allowing herself an uncharacteristic sign of anger.

                                            > Nodding in turn, Noctuid continued. “Likewise, my hive has lost a substantial amount of sublings. The knowledge of sterility does little to dissuade them from the endeavour.

                                            > “Sterility…?” asked Albuna.

                                            > “No regular ling undergoes a second metamorphosis without its cost,” Mentha explained glumly. “While the deserters can live off of the radiant love of the Crystal Heart, they doom their lineage.”

                                            > “Indeed,” Buddleia budded in. “It takes a queen to survive it unscathed and come out as Whole-born. Like Chryssi.”

                                            > Fangs flashing, Chrysalis took to retort.

                                            “Just what exactly is your problem with me, Buddleia? Your angry stench hangs over the table like a foul cloud.”

                                            > Rising from her seat, Buddleia began making her way around the table. “What my problem is, that while the all of the other Equestrian hives suffer from lack of love and runaways, your hive thrives. You speak of the greater hive, building it to sit atop a pedestal. But what have you done to help your fellow changelings?” she asked.

                                            > Chrysalis rose as well, to face off the opposing queen. While Buddleia had grown to be a mature queen, she was still a head shorter than Chrysalis.

                                            > “You build fortifications. You foster more behemoths than ever recorded. You harness your sublings’ adoration,” she carried on. “While your fellow queens struggle to meet the expectations of their hive, you trample all over this, parading your powers like a common showpony.”

                                            > Griff, fangs and wings flared and a low growl emanating, Chrysalis looked downright frightening. But still Buddleia continued enclosing in on her.

                                            “Brave words from a lowly whoremother,” the snarling Chrysalis said.

                                            > Now standing close enough to lock horns with her, Buddleia looked her in the eyes, taking a deep breath to continue her charade. And stopped. “You have laid with him. This morning, I wager.” She snarled. “You practically reek of him.”

                                            “So what if I have. I have his eternal adoration. More than you can ever claim to have witnessed from any one of your lays.”

                                            > “You can fuck like rabbits for all I care, it will ne-“, Buddleia came to a grinding halt. Quickly taking a step back, she flared her wings, casting a small shadow from the bright sun, over the place where Chrysalis stood. The rest of the queens followed her gaze downwards.

                                            > The ever constant green glow of her eggs could be picked up, by the treasonously reflective surface of Sanctuary. A couple of gasps could be heard from the table.

                                            > “Ovir…” Buddleia began. “You dare come here as Ovir?!” she thundered.

                                            > And that is when the second day of the Queens meeting was cut short.


                                            -------------------**-------------------


                                            > Anonymous found himself enjoying the quiet morning in the hive.

                                            > Having kissed his queen goodbye, he sought out Atta, the royal hair stylist. Which really is to say, the most competent little ling in the hive equipped with a pair of scissors.

                                            > Despite his assurances of the quality of her work, the poor thing was a nervous wreck by the end of the escapade. Bidding Atta goodbye with a well-deserved head pat, and a small love induced headache, Anonymous made for the hive library.

                                            > Nigh endless bookshelf upon bookshelf stretching on in nigh endless rows, filled with genuine mountains of books, scrolls, scriptures, documents, parchments, texts, essays, albums, and everything in between.

                                            > Gigantic mirrors letting in the brightly glowing sunlight illuminated the many-coloured backs of the tomes, creating a myriad of dulled hues.

                                            > Walking past the lengthy scientific papers, the heavy law books and the stale history books, he finally found what he had set out to find. The true epitome of literature. The one Magnum Opus of Equestria.

                                            > The largest ever collection of romance novels.

                                            > Diving into the collection with barely withheld glee, Anonymous began reading from the top left row, enveloping himself with stacks of books.

                                            > Following what felt like hours of mushy drama, the soft poking of a hoof on his shoulder caught his attention.

                                            > “Um… your highness, blessed Allfather?” came a cautious voice.

                                            > Utterly bewitched by the words, Anonymous gave a small start.

                                            “Ye- yes, what is it?”

                                            > A petite librarian stood tall next to him, staring intensely at the floor. A small pair of green tinged half-glasses rested atop her muzzle. “Blessed Allmother has a-announced her return from the meeting, she will be back shortly.”

                                            > Surprise on his face, Anonymous looked out the window puzzled to try and gauge the sun position.

                                            “What time is it?”

                                            > As if she had expected the question, the mare answered promptly. “A quarter to eleven, Allfather. The meeting appears to have been cut short, for some reason. A messenger arrived before the queen and her guards, carrying orders for the preparation of bolting the main gates.”

                                            “Bolting the gates? Did the messenger say anything about what happened at the meeting?”, worry starting to seep into his voice.

                                            > Fidgeting in place at her own lack of knowledge, she continued. “The message said nothing of the reasons as to why. Only the orders for preparation for bolting, as well as the awakening of the behemoth reserves.”

                                            > Quickly rising from his seat, Anonymous stormed out the library.

                                            “I have told her time and time again, behemoths needs their forenoon nap. They get so grumpy when they’re sleep deprived,” he said, more to himself than the fumbling librarian left behind in his wake.

                                            > Taking the stairs three steps at a time, the human quickly made his way down from the higher levels. All around him, changelings rushed to and from places, carrying additional bolts and ammunitions, medical supplies and spare armour pieces.

                                            > The main hall was a flurry of traffic, yet the king felt none of the bustle of bodies. Steering straight to the gates with a calculated stride, the sea of lings dispersed in front of him, as they sensed his presence.

                                            > Reaching open doors with anxiously looking guardlings and behemoths flanking him, Anonymous gazed across the arid surroundings. The stature of the two behemoths stood out like a pair of sore thumbs, making spotting his spouse a trivial task.

                                            > While the two behemoths towered over the Whole-born Queen, the difference in presence between the two made the fearsome war beasts look like a pair of nervously looking embers next to the roaring bonfire that was Chrysalis.

                                            > Her mane and tail flicked from side to side, powered by her fast gait. Her elongated fangs and griff were bared and clattering audibly against the soft scales of her neck. Her grandiose horn sent drifting sparks of teal magic flying as her powerful step hit the dirt beneath. As the distance between the two of them closed, Anonymous could make out the thin-slitted pupils constantly scanning the surroundings.

                                            > Raising a hand in greeting, Anonymous smiled wide.

                                            “Hey honey, how was the-“

                                            > A frustrated yowl of resentment roared out from the sturdy frame of the changeling queen.

                                            > “Fel and foul miscreants! How dare they banish me from Sanctuary?! What about the Oath or the sacred grounds! Sanctuary lies on Badland Hive land, and they dare dismiss me like a lowly interloper” Chrysalis hissed. “Arrrgh, to Tartarus with the lot of them!”

                                            > Quickly walking up to her, Anonymous enveloped the agitated queen.

                                            “Easy, Chryssi,” he began. “Did they hurt you or any of the guards?” he asked, placing a reassuring hand on her chest.

                                            > Feeling his gentle touch, and empathy to her, Chrysalis locked eyes with him. All of her pent up anger, hate and resentment was evident in her emerald eyes, a resounding beacon of justified fury. His hazel eyes in turn did not waver from hers.

                                            > “No. It’s much worse. They- they banished me,” she said, eyes trailing off to towards the south. “I have been cast out of the Council of Queens, Anonymous.”

                                            > Taking in a deep sigh, the humans shoulder sagged, as relief spread across his face. “Thank the heavens, I thought you were hurt. You came back looking like you about had to bite off the face of one of the other queens.”

                                            > “They humiliated me, Anonymous! Do you know what happens to exiled queens? No councils. No trade. No nothing.”

                                            > The echoing words of the distraught queen echoed down the populated hall. The nervous glances, and murmurs from the on looking changelings started to spread out, like a whispering wave cascading from around the pair.

                                            > Sensing the smouldering hysteria flaring, Anonymous quickly seized the moment.

                                            “So what if the council want nothing with us. Honey, we are thriving! Look around you. Look at the mighty walls protecting us, at the armaments and resources stockpiled tenfold, at the faces of your loyal hive. Sense their undying love and devotion to you, their queen.”

                                            > Grasping her cheeks and dragging her face to his, he continued unabated.

                                            “To Tartarus with the other queens. They can’t offer us anything we already have in spades,” he said, placing a tender kiss on her snoot, as his hands delicately rubbed the ghosts of tears from her eyes. “We don’t need them any more than they us. Call off the wakening, and let our sublings have a well earned rest.”

                                            > Slowly, but surely, as understanding spread across her muzzle, her wings and lips eased, dropping into a their usual resting place. Her griff folded back in again, leaving behind her sleek neckline smooth and uninterrupted. Her pupil slits calmed, returning her eyes to their prior splendour.

                                            > In the place of the bloodthirsty and confused changeling ready to tear her foes to shreds, stood instead a Whole-born Queen. A being content with what she had, and everything she could ever want. A small awkward smile blessed her features.

                                            > “Yo-You’re right, beloved… Like always,” she said, stiffly. “I- I must have looked like a horrifying beast when I got here,” she said, glancing towards the cautiously optimistic guardlings flanking her.

                                            > Drumming lightly on her snout, Anonymous locked eyes with her again.

                                            “My black rose, even if you have the eyes of a wolf, I shall search them and find the beauty of the beast,” he recited, a supple grin on his features.

                                            > A small chorus of ‘awws’ from the nearby sublings was heard around the two of them.

                                            > “You’ve been reading your romance novels again, haven’t you?” Chrysalis sighed in defeat, her cheeks growing a shade of red from embarrassment.

                                            “Hollow Pine was a criminally underrated author. He never really got the breakthrough he deserved!”, his voice filled with mock indignation as he lightly tapped the front of her muzzle.

                                            > Chrysalis moved a hoof to boop him back, and turned towards the hive. “I’m tired, beloved. Care to join me for an early lunch?”

                                            “Gladly,” Anonymous answered, turning to follow.

                                            > A small being walking towards the hive caught his attention. The diminutive changeling shuffled along, slowed down by the heavy weight of the mighty book on its back. The green chitin on her flanks and shoulders immediately identified it as belonging to the hive.

                                            > Listening carefully, the strained huffs and puffs from the toiling mare could be heard across the silent land.

                                            > “What’s taking you so long, belo-,” Chrysalis began, as she too spotted the lone ling. “The notary? What is she doing here, the meeting should still be in effect.”

                                            > Plopping down in a heap on the ground before the royal couple, the tired changeling made a halfway salute in a weary greeting. “Royal Notary Scriba, reporting back from the Council,” she said.

                                            > Stepping forwards to pick up the treasured book, dusting off its cover, Chrysalis looked as Anonymous instead opted for picking up the mare, cradling her like one would a nymph. Considering the size difference between the two, the comparison was not far off.

                                            “Oh dear, oh dear,” Anonymous fussed, looking over the frazzled changeling as he walked through the central gates of the hive. “So, tell us, Scriba. Why are you back here already?”

                                            > Looking up at the paternal face for a silent moment in awe, the notary quickly gathered her wits.

                                            > “We-well, Allfather, shortly after Allmother was exi-“, Chrysalis gave off a low hiss at the near mention of her departing, “wa- was most unjustifiably ousted from the Council, the remaining queens agreed on breaking up, and postponing further negotiations for tomorrow morn, the last day of Council,” the mare said duly.

                                            > Chrysalis huffed in displeasure. “Of course they would. Sitting around on my lands, doing nothing but gorging themselves on my ambrosia and hospitality. I should bring out the behemoths and drive out the thankless cretins.”

                                            > Placing a comforting hand on her withers, Anonymous leaned in and blew a small breath of air in her hair, throwing the long strands in front of her eyes.

                                            “You know, Honey, the best way to show those queens that you don’t care for them or the council would be to allow them to stay. Let them drink their fill, have a taste for pure love in quantities few of them can ever spare. Let them know that the concern of having multiple foreign hive queens on our lands are beneath us,” he said mischievously.

                                            > Chrysalis was silent for a long while, studying his face, as they walked through the cool halls. “Your whimsy notwithstanding, you never stop surprising me with your flair for politics, beloved,” she said.

                                            > Smiling down at his wife, Anonymous was caught by surprise from the small awkward faux cough coming from the changeling in his arms.

                                            > “Ex-excuse my intrusion, Allfather, Allmother, but there is something else.”

                                            > The pairs attention diverted from one another. “What is it, loyal notary? Anonymous asked in words honeyed with honest happiness at his wife’ earlier remark.

                                            > Tapping her hooves awkwardly together, creating a soft clicking, the notary looked off to the side.

                                            > “Well... Queen Albuna also dragged me off to the side after the meeting, requesting an audience with you, Allmother. Preferably today, around dinnertime”

                                            > Blinking a couple of times, Chrysalis mulled over the information. “Hmm, meetings between queens aren’t that uncommon. I’ll allow it, considering our agreement was set in stone before my... leaving of the Council.”

                                            “There you go, honey,” Anonymous said encouragingly as he squeezed his hand on her side. “A positive attitude and look on new situations are important to stay healthy and fresh, for both you and the eg-“

                                            > “Queen Albuna also mentioned that she wanted to meet Allfather Anonymous,” Scriba added.

                                            > “I will tear off her wings and force feed them to her if she so much as touches a hair on his head!” Chrysalis roared, wings and griff clattering.


                                            > It was a very uncomfortably looking amber Queen Albuna who shuffled into the royal meeting halls, flanked by four menacing looking behemoths, watching her every move like hawks. The occupants already present in the hall did little to ease her evident nervousness.

                                            > Having already woken up the behemoths, the Whole-born Queen of the wastes was relishing in her ability to prove her power, having an additional eight behemoths stand guard in a corridor like pattern, from the enormous entry doors, spaced out all the way up to her pillow arrangement.

                                            > Countless pheidoles armed to the fangs with grim weapons looked on, casting glances between their beloved Allmother and the foreign queen, waiting for the smallest sign of orders.

                                            > Chrysalis herself had draped her form on a heightened plateau of comfortable silken pillows, head held high. Although her outwards appearance was the epitome of a calm interest, her tense leg muscles and faintly glowing horn told volumes of her apprehensive state.

                                            > A meeting requested by another queen carried with it a long string of obligations, rules and expectations. It was a safe haven for the good willed requesting queen to present their case or offer to a fellow queen. Just as the requestee was granted safety from harm to and from the place of meeting, the proposed queen again withheld the right to break off negotiations for whatever reason.

                                            > And yet, for all the rules and laws of ancient times past, having another queen in a hive was always a strained experience.

                                            > Amidst all of this, the tense behemoths, the alert sublings, and the nervous pair of queens, sat Anonymous, the catalyst of it all.

                                            > Clad in a fine woven silken shirt with intricate patterns swirling across his broad chest, whirlpool like designs on his breast catching the faint glow of the magical lights as he breathed. A modest pair of deep emerald-coloured trousers helped accentuate his long stature, and a fine pair of onyx black shoes finished off his attire.

                                            >He had an aura of calmness around him, his face bore a welcoming smile, his fingers lightly drumming on his thigh as he observed the approach of the first changeling queen he's seen, outside his own wife.

                                            > Eventually reaching the mesa of green cushions, Albuna bowed low in front of the ruling queen.

                                            > “Queen Chrysalis, I thank you for taking the time to allow my request and offering your hospitality in my time of need,” she began. “I come here, hoping to lay out the finer details discussed at the Council this morn, so that it might benefit the both of us.”

                                            > Chrysalis raised a hoof and waived it a dismissive fashion. “I recognise your gratitude, Queen Albuna, and respond in kind. Adhering to the ancient codes is only proper. Any queen requesting a meeting must be granted passage and leave, as is your right of your stature. Although I do ask that we cease with mentioning the Council. It is not a matter of interest to me at the time.”

                                            > Nodding her understanding, Albuna raised her head, a court smile on her lips. “Of course, Queen Chrysalis.” Turning her head towards him, Albuna bowed her head once again in front of Anonymous.

                                            > “I have heard many tales of your kind, Allfather. It is rare to see one of the fae in this day and age. Spirits preserve me, that I might experience being in the presence of one.”

                                            “Likewise, Queen Albuna, I have been told of your actions this morn, and I thank you for extending an olive branch, supporting us. Rest easy, enjoy the refreshments and indulge us in your proposals,” Anonymous said.

                                            > Chrysalis could feel the feeble emotional link between the two of them, as Albuna took the feelings of his honest thanksgivings like a starving would a hot meal. A pang of jealousy stirred as this was usually only shown and given to her or the sublings of the hive.

                                            > However, defying the risk of entering another hive, and kneeling at the feet of another queen was commendable, so she allowed the amber queen a respite, willing her unruly feelings to rest.

                                            > Bowing her head again, Albuna turned back to include Chrysalis in her appeal. “I come here to once again thank you for the offer of assistance, understanding the costs such an endeavour. While the Forbidden Jungle hive can never hope to replace the Ambrosia expended, I would like to offer a humble alternative in return instead.”

                                            > One of Chrysalis eyebrows raised slightly in genuine surprise at the offer of previously unheard repayments. Anonymous likewise leaned forwards, elbows resting on his knees, supporting his chin in his hands.

                                            > “Please proceed, Queen Albuna,” Chrysalis said.

                                            > Smiling at their evident attention, Albuna continued. “Well, I am glad I have your interest. The jungle has many flowers, some of which only grows there, and when you infuse them into love honey, it becomes something of a potent ointment.”

                                            “Love honey?” Anonymous asked.

                                            > “A kind of palatable love. Sticky stuff, but goes well on toast,” Chrysalis explained. “While I am appreciative of your offer, what makes your medical condiments different from Ambrosia, a thing we already have plenty of?”

                                            > Despite the softly inquisitive tone of the Whole-born Queen, Albunas smile and optimism was not deterred. “Well, while Ambrosia is more powerful, it still inherently relies on love magic. Our love honey, or ‘clover honey’ as we like to call it, concentrates the healing properties of the flowers, strengthening their effect. It is also easier to gather and store, practically keeping for months if not years.”

                                            > While her hive could produce ample enough amounts of Ambrosia, it spoiled easily, and needed delicate handling when stored. A potent substitute was vital for long lasting operations and outposts.

                                            > A downright cavalcade of questions and planning inquiries immediately followed between the two queens, discussing the finer details of the expedition, notifying the necessary servants, preparing guards, and so on.

                                            > Eventually, as the discussions continued from the late afternoon well into the evening, delectable and exquisite cuisines from all reaches of the southern Equestria was brought fourth, so that the meeting could continue unabated.

                                            > Anonymous watched on in humble interest. While the finer details in the planning and negotiations were beyond him, he still contributed with pieces of smalltalk whenever the discussions grew too dull. Through it all, he felt an inert joy seeing his wife at work. She was invested in this, trying to find the best possible solution for each and every topic. While she did try to favour her own interests, she was not unfair in her offers.

                                            > Finally, after many hours of crunching the numbers, and reviewing the plans, the two hive queens had an expedition set in parchment. The rally points were set and the supplies counted and ordered for preparation.

                                            > Drawing a heavy but content sigh, Chrysalis leaned back on her pillows. “I am pleased with the arrangements. How about you, Albuna?”

                                            > Looking over the list of supplies one last time, the amber queen nodded in excitement. “Definitely, Chrysalis. This is beyond what I had hoped, and more than I expected. Once again, thank you.”

                                            > “Think nothing of it. Few foes can be used as fodder for behemoth training, so it’s mutually beneficial for both of our hives. Will you and your party accept an offer of boarding for the night?”

                                            > Rising from her seat, she carefully rolled up the official documents and lists. Drawing forth a long tube of shining black hive material, she uncapped one of the ends by twirling a small piece of string. Placing the parchment inside and placing the lid back on, she retied the string, sealing the container shut.

                                            > Placing the tube under one of her wings, she stood to regard Chrysalis again. “I thank you for the offer, but I must return at once for my tent and my attendants. I want this decree back to my home as soon as possible, so that preparations can begin at once.”

                                            > Bowing her head in turn, Chrysalis said: “I understand, my expedition will set out by tomorrow morn, then. They should be at the northernmost rally point by the afternoon of the day after tomorrow.”

                                            > Smiling in glad anticipation, Albuna bowed back. “I will await their arrival within the fortnight. Thank you for your hospitality, Queen Chrysalis, and for your presence, Allfather.“

                                            > Bidding his goodbyes and watching the smaller queen leave through the doors with her procession of behemoths, Anonymous turned to his wife.

                                            “Well, I think that went pretty well, all things considered,” he said, stretching and cracking his back. Chrysalis in turn said nothing for a long while, as she read over the papers, absentmindedly bringing over a small plate of baked goods.

                                            > “The teats on that mare are made of sturdier stuff than hive rock for walking in here alone. It doesn’t take the skills of a Whole-bornto sense her desire to experience being near you,” she said bluntly.

                                            “Being near me?”

                                            > Chewing loudly on a crunchy sugar cookie – home made with love, of course. “Yes, beloved. You know the positive effect you have on… well, all things changeling. Just being near you makes me feel like a cat frolicking in the rays of an afternoon sun.”

                                            “So you are saying she wants to hug me?”, he asked innocently.

                                            > A short chuckle escaped the Badlands matriarch. “Hug you? Anonymous, my beloved, she wanted to ravage you, and flee out the window across the hall with you in tow. Make no mistake, she might act civilised, and she sure was on her best behaviour tonight, she still wants you for herself. Her acting was on point, but the underlying craving for you was near palpable.”

                                            > Rising from his seat, and walking over towards her, Anonymous gave a short mock of a bow and extended his hand.

                                            “And what if I don’t love her, as I love you?”

                                            > Taking his offered appendage, Chrysalis got to her hooves, and looked up at him with surprisingly solemn eyes. “I do not know, beloved. Just like a loving human can bring prosperity to a changeling queen, I can only imagine what a spiteful human could do to bring a queen to her knees.”

                                            > Nodding in understanding, Anonymous looked out the large glass panels.

                                            > The quiet hour of an early twilight outside had extinguished the flaming colours of a missed sunset, leaving behind the colourful palate of purples to dance through the slightly green tinted windows of the hall, as they walked.

                                            > Chrysalis enjoyed this immensely. The steadying feeling of her mate, and his assurances in her decisions helped calm her frayed nerves immensely.

                                            “What if they tried mind controlling me?”

                                            > “Excuse me?” she asked, unnerved of a possible exploit she had not considered.

                                            > Shrugging his shoulders, Anonymous continued, brows furrowed. “What if I was mind controlled into loving them?”

                                            > Weighing his question for a long time, Chrysalis horn faintly started glowing as she walked. After a short while, she flashed her smile at him as if an unsaid hypothesis was proven.

                                            > “Remember when Albuna mistakenly called you fae?” she asked.

                                            “Yes, I do. I didn’t want to correct her and highlight her mistake,” Anonymous said.

                                            > “I am glad you didn’t. It would have been awkward for a royal to correct another,” she said matter of factly. “Anyhow, wrong as she and the other queens might be of your origins, humans and fae are polar opposite. Fae are inherently magical creatures, and shun cold iron for its anti-magic properties.”

                                            “And with humans having iron in the blood…” he started.

                                            > “You are in every sense of the word, immune to magic manipulation. And with mind control belonging to a school of magic, you cannot be controlled by magical means,” she said, picking up a bit of speed to get ahead of him.

                                            > Anonymous eyes trailed down from her face.

                                            > The soft hues from the window still caught in her vibrant mane, sending small sparkles of sheen prancing across her neck, as her eyes glimmered playfully and fanged smile danced.

                                            > Downwards, from the hard carapace exterior of her slender neck, his eyes moved across her shoulders, down to her wings and their ethereal beauty. Their whole and complete look had an almost otherworldly effect, as she casually shifted them in a tantalising display across her form, not much unlike that of a concubine in a faraway land.

                                            > Following the curvature of her lower back, her tail leaped to and fro with a barely withheld temptation of her sweltering nethers. Fully aware of the effect she had on him, Chrysalis slowly sashayed her backside in a graceful show of feminine curves.

                                            > The ever so soft jiggle of her thighs could have razed a town like any earthquake. Her hefty legs perfectly frame the puffy soft-emerald coloured vulva, coincidentally flashing him a short glimpse of her clit and heady promises of delights.

                                            > Chrysalis looked over her shoulder to fix him with a smouldering gaze. “I know of other means to get what I want, however,” her sultry voice danced with glee.

                                            > Whatever deities had graced her form with this level of allurement would forever hold his gratitude. With gargantuan effort, Anonymous tore his eyes away from the display to look her in the eyes.

                                            “I guess I still owe you that massage from this morning.”

                                            > “You do.”


                                            -------------------**-------------------


                                            > The heavy wall length curtains excelled in cladding the furniture and shapes in the bedroom in near perfect darkness. Only the barest sliver of indistinct early morning light dared to draw a line at the drapes feet.

                                            > A roaring silence held the room in a tight grip, only losing its grasp with the sound of its inhabitants’ calm breath and the bed cloth and pillows dragging against one another with their movements.

                                            > It was in this almost cocoon like environment a very proud Anonymous found himself in.

                                            > He had woken up a couple of minutes earlier, simply enjoying the total lack of sound.

                                            > Having his eyes already adjusted to the dark absent of light, the fluorescent light of his bed mate was as apparent as the midday sun to him.

                                            > He focused with equal parts fascination and adoration on the small slope of his pregnant wife’s belly, as her breathing moved around their priceless treasures. The eggs moved around in a lazy ballade, as they jostled with the occasional twitch of their mother’s legs.

                                            > Chrysalis’s abdomen radiated a calming heat outwards, basking his forehead in its soothing flush.

                                            > Delicately placing a broad palm on the top of the maternal mountain, his face was lit up by both a content smile, and the growing glow within. Chrysalis took in a deep sigh, humming deeply in sleepy delight at the early morning infusion of love.

                                            > ‘Ovir’, she had called it. A warm feeling of pride swelled in his chest. She really was pregnant.

                                            > A soft knocking could be heard from across the bedroom.

                                            “Yea, yea, who is it?” Anonymous asked quietly, as he carefully rolled over to the side of the bed.

                                            > A very timid looking Scriba peeked her head around the frame. “Ma-many apologies, blessed Allfather, but it’s urgent,” she whispered.

                                            > Holding up his hand in a sign for her to pause, his other lightly poked the side of the still snoozing Queen Chrysalis beside him.

                                            “It’s for you, honey,” he said, sitting up off the side of the bed.

                                            > Another deep sigh caught the lethargic matriarch. Slowly stretching her joints as a mighty yawn crossed her lips, the queen opened her eyes to the sight of a very nervous looking drone

                                            > “What is it, Scriba? I want to sleep in, and forget about the damned council,” Chrysalis said, lazily scratching her eyes.

                                            > “Ab-about that. The other queens have requested an audience,” Scriba said, slowly walking in the room to stand before her.

                                            > The soft thud of a hoof hitting the pillows could be heard as Chrysalis took in a ragged breath, half way towards a hiss in honest annoyance, staring pointedly into the ceiling above.

                                            > “Of all the hardships I must endure…” she sighed. “Fine, fine, let us see Mentha first. I am really not in the mood to talk to neither Noctuid nor Buddleia at the moment.”

                                            > Chrysalis dragged herself to the edge of the bed to sit beside her king, stealing herself a steadying nuzzle beneath his chin. Chuckling softly, he in turn placed a hand on her cheek, lovingly brushing the locks of early morning mane out of her face, scooting it behind her ear.

                                            > “The queens insisted on meeting with you in union,” Scriba added, bracing herself for the possible retaliation. The growing clacking of a griff hitting chitin echoed in the room. Fixing the poor changeling with a withering glare, Chrysalis motioned for her, as if to ask for more information.

                                            > “I bet they wanted a meeting within the morning as well, correct?”

                                            > “A-actually, they wanted it within the quar-quarter hour, blessed A-Allmother,” the shaking notary said, looking as if standing before her deathbed. Anonymous felt Chrysalis tense her muscles in barely withheld fury. The clattering of her griff grew louder.

                                            > “Tell them I deny them entry by my right as proposed queen...”

                                            “Honey, I know they have been a thorn in your side these couple of days, but do you really think-“, Anonymous began, trying to soothe his wife.

                                            > “…Until I can be ‘presentable’”, she finished with no signs of sincerity, the last words dripping with distaste.

                                            > Anonymous, on his part, wrapped an arm around her in a half hug.

                                            “I’ll go wake up the kitchens and prepare the behemoths. You take a long bath – use that nice shampoo I got you, and we’ll meet with the queens by two hours from now. How does that sound?”

                                            > The queen simply nodded into his arms, burying her face from the day’s hardships.

                                            > Smiling, Anonymous turned his head towards the small mare. “Scriba, could you be a dear and arrange for some refreshments for the queens and any ensemble they might have brought along. Buy us some time, would you?”

                                            > The little notary nodded feverishly. “C-Certainly, Allfather,” was all the human caught, before the mare disappeared like pretend love after a one night stand.

                                            > Quickly jumping to his feet, Anonymous got to the adjourning bathroom, washing off the worst signs of his slumber. Running a wet brush through his hair and beard, he finished off with a speedy but sufficient brushing of his teeth.

                                            > Opening the semi closed door ajar, he nearly bumped into the pouting mother of his children. Chrysalis placed an accusing hoof on his chest, tapping with a parody of indignation.

                                            > “You haven’t smooched me good mornings,” she huffed. “You always do.”

                                            > A hearty laugh escaped him at the sight of her adolescent theatrics.

                                            “And forever I shall smooch you good mornings,” he promised, embracing her in a deep kiss. It was a quick but deep one. Born of the circumstances; it none the less conveyed the earnest compassion shared.

                                            > Staring into his eyes with tenderness, she sighed. “Will you come back and join me in the showers after your errands?”

                                            “If it is my queen’s wish, I will serve.”

                                            > Tapping her hoof on his cheek with mirth, she smiled. “It is.”

                                            > Stepping aside to allow him passage, Chrysalis slipped past him, closing the door behind her. Soon after, the soft drizzle of water could heard.

                                            > Anonymous snapped back into the moment, putting on a shirt similar in execution as that he had worn the day before. Zipping up his pants in quick succession, he only had to crawl around the floor for a short moment before finding his shoes haphazardly strewn beneath the bed.

                                            > Last night got out of control way harder than he remembered, he contemplated.

                                            > Tossing the thought aside, he opened up the large doors out, to the sight of four large pairs of eyes looking at him bafflement.

                                            > “Ble-Blessed mornings, Allfather,” came the greeting from Caci, snapping into a deep bow alongside her sisters. “We had not expected to see you or Allmother befo-“

                                            > Quickly waving her explanations off, Anonymous pointed out two of them.

                                            “Caci and Neptunis, you’re with me.” His voice came out gruffer and deeper than he would have liked. Almost made him sound like his old man, he thought, scratching his chin.

                                            > The effect of his paternal tone was instant. Snapping into official salutes looking straight ahead, the two appointed nodded jointly.

                                            > “Lead the way, Allfather.”

                                            > Nodding his approval, Anonymous’s stride continued onwards, the long gait of the behemoths easily matched his own, catching up behind him within moments.

                                            > Their pace was brisk, and made navigating the inner halls a rapid process. They did not meet any regular changelings, besides the occasional guard post stationed in the dark hallways.

                                            > Quickly turning a corner, and taking the stairs the same way he had the day before, the pacing of the behemoths slowed considerably. Their large hooves too wide to pace the steps at anything faster than a slow walk.

                                            > “Allfather, what’s the hurry, it’s barely past sunrise and we’re running around the sanctum like flies. Are we under attack?” Neptunis asked.

                                            > Glancing back over his shoulder mischievously, Anonymous stopped for a moment at the feet of the stairs to let the two guards reach him again.

                                            “No, not yet at least,” came the cryptic answer. “The other queens have requested an audience, all four of them. Chrysalis wants the castle to be ready for anything.”

                                            > The surprise was evident on the mare’s face. “You mean…” she began.

                                            “Yes, she wants the kitchens opened.” He answered the unsaid question, a teasing smile playing.

                                            > “Um… The kitchens? Then what about…” Caci said in turn, brows furrowed and eyes blinking in bewilderment.

                                            “And she wants the behemoth reserves awoken.”

                                            > A small light appeared in the eyes of the giants. “Ah, of course,” she said. Then her ears and mouth drooped. “They are going to be really grumbly being waken up this early.”

                                            “I hope to bribe them with promises of belly rubs and Ambrosia,” Anonymous explained.

                                            > “…That could work,” came the short reply.

                                            > Finally reaching his first destination, the king quickly woke up the executive chef and rallied her head chefs, explaining the situation. Having put in motion the preparations for a meal worthy of the guests, he left the kitchens to fend for themselves.

                                            > Standing outside the now bustling kitchens, the shrill sounds of metal utensils and fires starting to roar all but a whisper on the other side. Anonymous poked Caci’s leg.

                                            “What’s the fastest way to the behemoth quarters from here?”

                                            > Taking a quick look at her surroundings, Caci pointed out a corridor with her mighty horn. “Down that corridor, then one left and two rights, left again and then just keep walking. You’ll know when we’re there.”

                                            > Not ten minutes later, Anonymous had to give her credit. The pair of doors before him towered over him. While the height was about the same as the ones to the royal bedchambers, the width they held was bordering on the ridiculous. The massive frame of the doors were kept in line by equally massive hinges of well-oiled hive steel.

                                            > Three behemoths could easily stand shoulder to shoulder in the entrance, with ample breathing room to spare. A feat not without its merits. In the event of an attack, the behemoths would not be slowed down by something as silly as congestions.

                                            > Walking forward, Caci’s horn shone brightly in an emerald light, as did the two pitch-black circular door handles. Bracing her hooves against the pull, the behemoth slowly but surely hefted the double doors wide ajar. Naught a sound escaped the now open doorway.

                                            > The soft light of the outside pedestals could only manage to faintly reflect off healthy blank chitin inside the barracks. Various forms laid motionless, sleeping soundly, scattered around the soft sleeping nests.

                                            > Tsking in contempt, Caci stepped forward. Anonymous eyes travelled up the length of the behemoths armoured neck. A great griff extended around her head, similarly to Chrysalis’s own. Except this one had the size befitting a behemoth.

                                            > A thunderous clap echoed into the drowsy hall, as her fins retracted promptly, hitting unyielding scales.

                                            > “At attention, nymphs. Queen’s orders,” Caci roared in a commanding resonance.

                                            > For a short moment, nothing was said. Then a voice echoed from the back of the hall. “Urgh, shut up and close the door. We stood guard for hours for the better part of yesterday. Our watch doesn’t start till four hours from now.”

                                            > Clearing his throat, Anonymous tapped the indignant Caci with her extended griff, before she could yell out new commands, create another fierce clap or tear into a fellow sister. Whichever came first.

                                            “Sorry for the wake-up this early, girls. I need you,” he called into the darkness.

                                            > Though the light inside the barracks was dim, the shape of several heads popping up was easily recognizable as his voice reached them. “…Allfather… the Allfather? It’s the Allfather!” An echoing chorus roared and then silenced to hear his words.

                                            > Smiling at their undivided attention, Anonymous continued.

                                            “Could you be a bunch of darlings, and come talk with me for some time?”, he said. “I promise belly rubs and extra rati-…”

                                            > Quickly motioning for his guards to step aside as he did the same, a cacophony of heavy hooves hitting hive rock emanated from inside. A large gathering of behemoths streamed into the hallway outside, standing at attention, still like statues.

                                            > Anonymous mentally counted their heads as he walked down the line with his original entourage, smiling at his final count. The fourteen heads stood staring off straight ahead, their eyes following his step closely. Reaching the end of the line, he stopped in front of the last behemoth.

                                            > The changeling in front of him was of a more demure stature than her sisters, having a feet or so less in height and bulk. Still, he had to careen his neck backwards to look her in the eyes.

                                            “You’re new, aren’t you?” he asked, lightly tapping a pair of knuckle on the armoured frontal carapace piece.

                                            > Blinking in surprise at being addressed, the young mare’s head snapped downwards to look at what was happening at her front. “Ye-Yes sir. My name is Chalco, sir,” she said, a hoof hitting her temple with a audible crack in nervous salute.

                                            > Bending her neck to his level, Neptunis quietly whispered. “Behemoth Chalco has been selected to accompany behemoth Alba for the tour to the Forbidden Jungle. She finished her growth in the nursery last week, and has been at the barracks since then.”

                                            > Giving a reassuring smile to the jittery giant, Anonymous turned down the hallway again the same way he had come.

                                            “Fantastic, I can’t wait to read the report on the matter. Now then, the four other queens have asked for an audience with us. Chrysalis and I need everyone able to attend the meeting.“

                                            > A massive hoof shot up into the air in question. “Didn’t we do the exact same thing yesterday?” one of the mares asked.

                                            > Smiling apologetically, Anonymous nodded.

                                            “Yes, you did. In truth, I care little for the whimsy and political games of the other queens. On the other hand, it’s only proper that we follow the same laws as they,” he admitted. “I need you all at the royal meeting halls as soon as possible, looking big and strong for the other queens. Could you do that for me?”

                                            > “For the hive, Allfather!” came the immediate response.

                                            > Watching the ensemble of behemoths march off into a random corridor, Anonymous let out a deep sigh.

                                            > “You really are too generous sometimes, Allfather,” Caci commented dryly with a huff. “Behemoth caste are made of sturdier stuff than to tire from simple guard duty.”

                                            “Perhaps you are right, Caci. I just want to keep the peace and morale of the royal guard. No matter, I need to return to the royal chambers. I need to freshen up before the meeting,” he conceded, turning back the way they had come from.

                                            > As he walked, the rhythmic pattern of the behemoths walking behind spurred his mind to drift. Why would the other queens banish Chrysalis from the council, only for them to request an audience less than a day later? Queen Albuna had been alone the day before, with her request. It hinted that the current affair did not concern only a single queen, but rather the entire council.

                                            > Did they want to reconcile with Chrysalis? Did they want an extension of the three day meeting?

                                            > Deep in thought as he were, Anonymous only caught the glimpse of Scriba out the corner of his eye, as she appeared in the junction he had just left. Huh, that was strange. Was she not supposed to accompany the-.

                                            > Following close behind the petite scribe came a gathering various changelings. None of which were from the Badlands Hive. Continuing his pace, Anonymous could pick out regular changelings carrying books and scrolls, pheidoles armed with sheathed weapons, and even the occasional behemoth.

                                            > It was the queens’ presence that caught his attention, however. Carrying themselves with an aura of power, they cared little for their surroundings. At least they did, until the purple one sensed his smell or the sound of another pair behemoths walking close by.

                                            > “Halt, fae,” a shrill voice called out, echoing in the quiet hall.

                                            > Stopping and laying his face into more hospitable folds with a shrug, Anonymous turned to address the group. While Caci and Neptunis had followed behind him before, they now stood as a pair of shielding pillars in front.

                                            > The purple queen from before walked in front, with the rest of the tour following close behind. He recognised the orange Queen Albuna, as her wide eyes followed his. The group halted a short couple of steps in front of the pair of ominous looking behemoth.

                                            “I do prefer ‘human’, or Anonymous amongst friends, if you please,” he began, giving a short bow. “Whom do I have honour of speaking to?”

                                            > Chuckling mockingly, the purple queen raised a hoof to her chest. “I am Queen Buddleia of the Baltimare Hive. With me are the ruling queens of the Council. And I care little for your preferred semantics, fae,” she finished with a derisive drawl.

                                            > The thunderous clacking of Caci’s griff bounced off the walls. “Remember your place, queen. You are addressing the Allfather of the proposed hive. Show respect in kind and prostrate yourself,” she hissed, voice laced with malice.

                                            > Turning her attention away from the king, Buddleia careened her head up at the towering changeling. “And who are you, again?”

                                            > Anonymous noticed a small gathering of on looking heads peaking around the corners behind the group of queens, no doubt alerted by the prior ruckus.

                                            > Puffing out her chest, the vanguard loudly stomped an armoured hoof into the hive rock, creating a circular crisscross pattern of cracks. “I am Caci, first of the royal behemoth guard, leader of the Badlands Vanguard and tertiary commander of the Hive forces.”

                                            > The queen’s lilac pupils shrank a fraction in defiance at the display. “And do you speak for the hive?” She asked in a sarcastic voice.

                                            > Sharply turning her horn downwards the human to accentuate her point, the behemoth continued. “No. He does.”

                                            “Ladies, ladies, a moment of your time, please?” Anonymous asked holding up his hands in a disarming fashion as the pair of heads turned to him, one looking up and the other looking down. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves and head straight for a brawl. We are here for your proposal, and nothing more.”

                                            > “Allfather Anonymous is right,” Noctuid commented sagely. “Stay your horn, Buddleia. We are here for different matters.”

                                            > Turning her head back to regard her fellow queen, Buddleia hissed. “’Allfather’ my tail vent, I’ll break off my own horn before I follow the whimsical theatrics of a pathetic holeless’s bed toy.”

                                            > The following series of gasps from the on lookers was quickly followed by an encompassing silence. No one said anything. The trembling Scriba’s head pivoted from royal to royal in rapid succession, trying to discern who would speak up. Queen Albuna just shook her head in disappointment.

                                            > “Besmirching the Allfather…” Caci whispered with an unfathomable expression etched on her face. “Sacrilege…” Neptunis echoed in turn.

                                            > “Buddleia,” Noctuid began, only to then grow quiet as the feeling in the hall shifted. The earlier soothing feeling like that of a loving homestead and a warm hearth that had hugged the nearby changelings quickly started growing colder, leaving behind the dreadfully bitter aftertaste of deep animosity.

                                            > The intense shift in emotional gravity was easily perceptible to the empathic mares. Usually only a feeling sensed when a cover was blown, the reaction in the gathered changelings was instant. Some rattled their griffs, while others shook their wings in a nervous buzz. All of them checked their surroundings, searching for the source of the emotional vortex.

                                            > The methodical steps of the onyx heels broke the cacophony of chaotic noises, all heads turning back to the biped. Stopping to stand in front of the lilac regent, the human’s face turned to a sharp scowl, as the king loomed above the fuming queen.

                                            “Then what about the whimsy of a royal?” Anonymous coldly asked slowly, all remnants of his prior hospitality gone. “Need I remind you that I carry the same might and right as proposed Whole-born Queen Chrysalis, as dictated by the Laws of Change?”

                                            > Buddleia’s griff extended and flapped pathetically against her neckline in agitation as she returned his coldness with fiery defiance. “Do not spew the laws to me, fae. Only lings are governed by it.”

                                            > Clearing her throat, Mentha spoke up. “The Laws of royal Courtship governs only matters for in-hive relati-.”

                                            “Lings and their spouse,” Anonymous corrected voice sharp as a whip and intolerant of objections. “The laws mandate royal rights be extended to the designated mate of a queen. Chrysalis’s status as Ovir cements my stature, as the laws speak nothing of the species of the consort.”

                                            > “I don’t care for whatever charters you think you know. The Council would never recognise you and grant you rights like a queen,“ Buddleia snapped.

                                            “Splendid, as I in turn care little for your opinions or tea parties. However, in the eyes of the legislation, we are equal, whether you like it or not, Buddleia, and I will not hesitate for a second to drag you out from these halls if you defile my wife’s name again.” His glacial chill eyes sought out the notary, who looked for all the world like she was trying to will herself into an adjacent wall. “Scriba, you have your orders.  The meeting begins in five quarters. Blessed mornings, queens,” he finished, nodding to the rest of the flabbergasted royals.

                                            > Turning on his heel, the human stalked back down the hallway, the two behemoths following close behind as they kept a watchful eye on the shrinking group. With his fast pace and the many turns of the hive, they were soon out of hearing range.

                                            > Anonymous stopped and bent over, clutching his knees as his ragged breath betrayed his calm stoicism. A drop of sweat traverse his hairline down to his brow.

                                            “Ha, well… how did I do?” he asked, glancing at the two guard mares.

                                            > “Fantastic, Allfather!” Caci cheered with fires in her eyes and the pitch of a fan girl. “I had half a mind to throw that purple leech out the window. You carried yourself and the hive admirably,”

                                            > The king’s face lit up at the enthusiastic praise, a gratuitous smile appearing on his face. As his glance hovered from Caci face to her sister’s, his optimism haltered. The tall behemoth’s far off stare back the corridor they came from caused a growing sense of unease in him. Her face was laid in thoughtful folds as she took in a number of steadying breaths.

                                            > Standing tall again, he walked over to the distracted mare and tapped her foreleg. The humongous ling jolted in surprised at the contact of his hand.

                                            “Something the matter, Neptunis?”

                                            > Eyes widening, she lifted the touched appendage in an awkward manner, and looked down at the human. “No, A-Allfather. Nothing’s wr-wrong.”, she jittered, slowly placing down her hoof again. “Let’s head back to the royal chambers, Allmother awaits your return.”

                                            > Looking into her eyes for a moment, the human nodded.

                                            “Yes…”, he slowly stated, as he studied her features. “She does.”

                                            > The walk back was kept in silence, with only the echoing of their steps to break the mute monotony. They did not come across any of the other royals again, only meeting the various lings wakening up for the day’s tasks.

                                            > Arriving outside the great doors to the royal quarters, Anonymous excused himself and stepped inside. The room was still clad in darkness from the heavy drapes, with only the light of a magic bed lamp to offer respite.

                                            > Stepping over to the windowsill and heaving back the cloth, he started unbuttoning his clothing. Standing as naked as the night before, he crossed the chamber and opened the door to the smell of wet mane, the foggy mists of warm water and the calm humming of his wife.

                                            > Knocking his knuckles on the door to announce his presence, he stepped into the clouds and pulled back the curtain. Seeing his wife sitting amidst the falling water with closed eyes, her face a façade of calm serenity, he could not help but smile.

                                            > Carefully stepping into the slick bathtub, the human kneeled down behind the queen. Gently, his broad hands reach for the back of her head, idly combing through the long strands of silken hair. Never once did her humming stop.

                                            > He sat like that for a while, letting the waters rinse through the beautiful rains of emerald, watching the lights and water catch one another in its healthy sheen. Extending a hand, he grabbed a small bottle of gryphonian soap. Emptying out a small amount in his palm, he began working the exotic mixture into the flowing fiber.

                                            > So enraptured in his task, Anonymous did not notice the halting humming. Careening her neck to turn her head halfway towards her back, Chrysalis opened an eye and observed him.

                                            > “What troubles you, beloved?” she asked casually.

                                            > Anonymous shook his head, and continued his work.

                                            “Nothing, honey.”

                                            > Huffing in well-meaning humour, the queen turned her head forward again. “You make for a great king and an even greater lover, my dear. But you also make for a poor liar. Did the behemoths give you trouble?”

                                            “Not in the slightest,” he said, pinching a small fold of maternal fat on her flank in good-natured revenge. “They are good lings, and honourable examples of loyal soldiers.”

                                            > Having finished the lathering, Anonymous let the streams wash away the soap, shielding his wife’s eyes with the back of his hands. Not for long, though. Chrysalis rose from her position and turned her front to his, her eyes glowing with soft affection. Carefully placing the frogs of her hooves on his cheeks, she gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.

                                            > “Beloved, open your heart for me. Let me ease your aches.”

                                            > The human’s shoulders sagged and his previously furrowed brows calmed in the light of his wife love.

                                            “…I met the other queens,” he admitted.

                                            > Defying her soft looks, Anonymous could still feel her muscles stiffen, as her eyes took on a more hostile glaze. “What did they do, did they hurt you?” she asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

                                            > His eyes darted to the side, as he recalled the earlier confrontation. Chrysalis squeezed his cheeks lightly.

                                            > “No…” he began. Then his voice and face turned dark. “Well, yes, Buddleia mocked and slandered you and your stature in front of the other queens and their attendants.”

                                            > As he retraced the events, his arms and hands rose, clutching with his fingers as if fantasising of throttling the purple regent. Chrysalis looked on his form with apprehension, so far away from the calm king she loved. His eyes was squinting with malice and his brows crossed in a sharp angle.

                                            “It made me feel furious. Incredulous at the nerve that she thought so little of you, that she would dare badmouth you in our very home.”

                                            > Then slowly, his arms fell against his sides and his breathing slowed.

                                            “I reminded her that we were of equal stature, you and I, and that I could retract her grant of request. And that was that.”

                                            > Chrysalis features softened again. “And nothing more?” She asked with a breathless voice, softly tinged with her endless adoration for his defence of her honour. A small smile escaped him.

                                            “And nothing more,” he repeated.


                                            -------------------**-------------------

                                            > The soft lights from the pedestals lit up the whole scene at their feet.

                                            > The only sound heard in these majestic halls were the occasional flicker of behemoth wings scraping against one another, readjusting, and the all too familiar clicks of hooves on hive rock.

                                            > The atmosphere in the meeting hall was borderline frigid, as the four queens strode in, walking side by side in a closely knit group. Or, that is to say, the majority of them.

                                            > While the her fellow regents faces were stoic masks of neutrality, Queen Albuna was her usual cheery self as she walked with the leisure and ease of a ling at home, leading the ensemble. Beaming up to Chrysalis, she quickly cleared the way to the offered pillows for the guests.

                                            > She gave a quick courtesy bow to the ruling queen, and getting a familiar nod in turn, sat herself on top of a small mountain of velvet pillows, a way off centre.

                                            > A timid servant quickly stepped to her side, with an offering platter of refreshments, and ambrosia. Like with the council days before, the silvery decanters cast the light’s reflections across its neighbours on the ceramic surface.

                                            > The remaining queens, however, stood stock still before the plateau. The usually calm and collected Mentha cast nervous glances as her tense ears swivelled to and fro. This was most likely her first time seeing this many behemoths so close. In truth, it was a first for all three of them.

                                            > Buddleia, on her part, had foregone all resemblances of proper court manners, and was fiercely staring daggers at the laid-back king, fangs bared with a low hiss. Anonymous, on his part, took her provocations in stride, opting for ignoring her completely, as he lazily toyed with a delicate crystal goblet with his dextrous fingers. The glass contents, a deep red wine, left fading imprints as the container swirled.

                                            > Noctuid, to her credit, simply observed her two fellow queens with a raised eyebrow and a solemn expression. Tapping their flanks with a rapt flick of her soft wings earned her their attention, as she gave a small courtly bow before Chrysalis. Her two partners followed her example.

                                            > Chrysalis returned a bow of her own. Every ling present knew it was all but a farce, a mere step on the ladder of changeling court rules. A leftover from ages past.

                                            > But as sure as the eons passed, the ancient rites had to be upheld.

                                            > “Blessed mornings, Chrysalis”, Noctuid began, her voice going through the words without much enthusiasm. “We thank you for taking the time to allow our requested passage and offering your hospitality for our meeting.”

                                            > A small furore passed quickly through the gathered onlookers, as the sound of dutiful scribes quickly transcribed the words. Chrysalis regarded the queens before her for a short pause, before she seemed to gather her wits. “I recognise your gratitude, Queen Noctuid, fellow queens, and respond in kind,” she said.

                                            > Nodding her head, as Albuna had done the day before, Noctuid turned her head to regard the human, as he regarded the spectacle. “Blessed mornings greet you, Allfather Anonymous,” she addressed him, her words a notion warmer from before.

                                            > While his hand idly playing with the goblet ceased its movement, his hand at his temple made no move to indicate he had heard her. His brow furrowed, before his eyes turned from the merlot coloured patterns in his glass, to bore through the red eyes of the moth-like queen.

                                            “’Mornings, Noctuid,” he said simply in return.

                                            > The alabaster queen said nothing as she took her seat, a neutral expression on her façade. If his distanced greeting had affected her, she hid it well.

                                            > The other queens mimicked her movements, seating down beside her, and partaking in the offered refreshments. No one said anything for a while, as the queens supplied themselves. Finally, Chrysalis herself broke the silence.

                                            > “Tell me the reason for this most unorthodox of meetings, Queen Noctuid. First, you… exile me from the council of queens, only to then demand an audience barely a day later.” She took a long draft of her glass, letting the ensuing quiet speak for itself. “If one did not know any better, one might think you all mad.”

                                            > Buddleia let out another growl, but Noctuid was as quick as ever, snapping her magic around the lilac queen’s muzzle before she could speak up. “Chrysalis,” Noctuid began. “With the passing of the past days’ events, the council recognized that it would be in everylings best interests to sort the pressing matter at hoof as quickly and painlessly as possible.”

                                            > “Oh, what ever the matter would that be, Queen Noctuid?” Chrysalis asked with childish innocence, as she brought up her own goblet with swirling pools of softly glowing ambrosia.

                                            > Despite the numerous theories racing through her head, she wanted her worst fears confirmed from the pale queen’s own muzzle.

                                            > “Well, to be quite frank, Chrysalis, it’s a matter of…”

                                            > With a sudden jerk to escape the magic grasp pressing down on her mouth, Buddleia jumped to her hooves, pointing an accusatory hoof at Anonymous. “We are here because of the fae!”

                                            > The surrounding behemoths tightened their grasps on their towering weapons, watchful of the foreign queen’s sudden movements. Chrysalis raised a hoof, signalling them to stand down. She turned her eyes back to the fuming queen before her.

                                            > “Choose your next words carefully, Queen Buddleia of the Baltimare Hive,” Chrysalis warned. “The laws of change…”

                                            > Turning her fury and directing it back to the draped matriarch of the Badlands, Buddleia continued. “Free me from your lectures, you hypocrite. You have effectively abolished the delicate balance of the council yourself.”

                                            > Sighing, Noctuid continued. “Buddleia is correct, to a degree. We are here because of Anonymous, his amokinesis… and to some extent, you, yourself, Chrysalis,” She finished.

                                            > No one said anything for a long while. Anonymous noted how Queen Albuna’s face carried the same degree of surprise as was readily apparent on his wife’s features. Chrysalis herself broke the silence.

                                            > “Anonymous’s skills in manipulating love has never been a secret. Humans’ ability to do so has been well known throughout changeling mythology for millennia. Forgive my ignorance, but I fail to see how the bond between my mate and I changes anything.”

                                            > For the first time, Queen Mentha spoke up. “Oh but it has, Chrysalis. While not directly interfering with the balance of power, your stature as Ovir supports the long hypothesised idea that a ‘Being of Love’ could bless a queen with spawn of royal stature.”

                                            > Emptying her glass of softly glowing ambrosia, the queen of the northern bay pressed on. “Willing or not, your bond has not only shaken the balance of power between the hives. You have uprooted its very foundations, and grasped it for your own advanta...”

                                            > The sharp sound of glass hitting none too gently against a sturdy table rang clear throughout the throne room.

                                            “Baseless accusations and other falsehoods are to be left outside the sacred halls of meeting, Queen Mentha,” Anonymous commented dryly, as he got onto his feet, striding across the floor to look out the massive windows in the wall.

                                            > “The queens are talking, fae. Know your place and stay your tongue,” Buddleia tutted in indignation.

                                            “And a wing-clipped queen will fall from this very window if you do not state your business here”, the human retorted.

                                            > “Enough with veiled threats already!” Queen Noctuid interjected. “Chrysalis, on behalf of the ruling matriarchs of the Baltimare, Luna Bay and Hollow Shades hives, we three Queens of the Council demand that you surrender the loveship of Anonymous the human to the Council of Queens. His love is to be shared amongst all of us, for the betterment of all changelings.”

                                            > A furore flushed through the gathered subjects. The noisy scribbles of the notary, the threatening hisses from the armed guards and the gasps of the common changeling as the weight of the demand settled in.

                                            > A brief glance was shared between the human and his mate, before she turned to regard the pale queen.

                                            > “Queen Noctuid,” Chrysalis slowly began. “You are, without a shred of doubt, raving mad.”

                                            > Queen Albuna got to her hooves huffing. “You never mentioned this plan of yours at yesterdays’ meeting, Queen Noctuid. I want no part in this estranged fanfare of yours.”

                                            > Noctuid studied the agitated southern jungle queen for a moment. “You are already entwined with the Badlands hive, and as such, carry an inherent bias. That is the reason for keeping you in the unknown, Queen Albuna. We did not expect you to see things from our point of view.”

                                            > Slowly, the pale matriarch got to her hooves as well, the remaining queens following suit. “Regrettably, dearest Chrysalis, you do not have much choice in this matter.”

                                            > Standing herself, the Whole-born Queen of the wastes walked down from her plateau, to stand in front of the group of requesting queens.

                                            > “Why, pray tell, would that be, ‘dearest’ Queen Noctuid,” Chrysalis asked innocently sweet, a mask of fake curiosity plastered on her face.

                                            > Lightly bending her neck, Noctuid looked up at the imposing figure of the broad shouldered queen, a poorly veiled threat of physical harm evident in her body language. “Why, it is a simple matter. If you will not yield control of the human voluntarily, we three ruling Queens of the Council demand a duel of change for the right to Anonymous.”

                                            > The mocking self-assuredness on Chrysalis face was quickly washed away, for a façade of worry and fear to replace it. “Y-You dare request a duel to settle this?”

                                            > “Yes, I do. As do Queen Mentha and Queen Buddleia,” Noctuid confirmed. Looking over her shoulder, she motioned to a pale changeling from her hive. The small being stepped forward to present a signed document for them all to see. “The full details and official rites for a duel of change has been procured and signed by yours truly.”

                                            > Turning on the spot, Noctuid continued as she strode towards the notaries. “Bear witness, so that it may be known that the Council of Queens has officially extended a demand for a duel of change to exiled Queen Chrysalis of the Badlands Hive, if she will not comply with our request."

                                            > Clutching the paper, Chrysalis sputtered as she read through the cursive details. “This is a mockery. The Council of Queen cannot officiate and extend such decree without…”

                                            > “Without an overwhelming ruling majority of Council.” Mentha finished. “However, with Queen Albuna having left the meeting shortly after your departure, and your official exile from the Council, the ruling majority voted unanimously in favour of the proposal.”

                                            > As Chrysalis read the same lines of text over and over again, Anonymous casually strode back to be by her side, studying over the texts as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

                                            > “This… this is insanity, unadulterated insanity. N-No royal duels have been held for… ages. You would risk toppling ancient queendoms just to satiate your endless greed?!” Chrysalis roared accusingly, as she read the thrice cast challenge.

                                            > “You are the one who forced our hoof, Chrysalis,“ came the accusing tone from Buddleia. “You started this mockery of a deadlock, and you can end it all the same. Consign the chains of the fae voluntarily; no royal blood needs to be spilled needlessly.”

                                            > Looking up from the golden paper crackling in her fluttering telekinesis, Chrysalis levelled an icy glare at them. “And what if I refuse your challenge? What if I deny your request, and have you thrown at the gates?

                                            > Noctuid returned her glare with a Cheshire smile. “Why, we are quite sure that rulers of Equestria, the Crystal Empire, the Griffon kingdom, the Minotaurian queendom and the Kirin queendom would be quite interested in news of a changeling queen in possession of a mythical human.”

                                            > Tapping absentmindedly at her chin, she looked at Anonymous. “With the simple beings they are, some of them might even fear the repercussions if they did not act in time, and slayed the human before the changeling queen could spellbind him, and in turn, acquire near goddess-like powers.”

                                            > Queen Chrysalis of the Badlands hive paled at her words.

                                            > “Oh how frightful they would be, if they learned of this,” Buddleia continued mockingly. “They might even lay siege to a fortified hive in their desperation. And ancestors know how long those things last.”

                                            > “Say, such a siege would only last for however long, before an opportunistic intruder could happen upon a weak spot in the walls and exploit it,” Mentha commented with a faraway thoughtful look on her face.

                                            > Queen Albuna rose to stand on the other side of Chrysalis, fangs barred. “You’d fall so low as to cooperate with the ponies and their allies, and betray a fellow changeling queendom?” Her tone was laced with barely withheld contempt. “Where is your honour as fellow queens ?”

                                            > Queen Buddleia stood to face the amber queen’s challenge. “Our very honour bid us to do what is best for our sublings. We are all here, not borne out of ambition, but necessity.” Turning to level a glare at the now catatonic Chrysalis, she continued. “Besides, in the eyes of the Council, Chrysalis is nothing but another subling of a foreign hive. Nothing more.”

                                            > Chrysalis stared at the floor at her hooves, her eyes showing clear as day the fear coursing through her. What could she do? Risk her life and the lives of her eggs in a thrice cast duel of change, or give up the love of her world, enslaving him to serve as little else than an empty loveless husk.

                                            > Or, she could act in her own interest, and trust in her armies and behemoths. The Badlands Hive had never faced a greater foe, but surely, with her sublings might, they would persevere, right?

                                            > But at what cost? Thousands, hundreds of thousands, would die for her and Anonymous’ sake. The damned alicorns would enter the fray and the Elements would be called upon.

                                            > As well as the Crystal Heart…

                                            > Glacially cold fear caught hold of her heart of hearts. Frantically, Chrysalis threw her head around, searching for Anonymous’ eyes. Quickly, she found his warm comforting glance and a reassuring smile accompanying it. Tears of equal measures of happiness and sorrow filled her eyes.

                                            > Pictures of her beloved, chained to the side of a damp cell, drugged out of his mind, with no collection of her or their love, pressed down on her. All she had ever dreamed off, all she had ever wished for and all she had ever fought for. All to be forgotten and trampled on.

                                            > Thoughts of what would happen to her hive, her behemoths, her sublings, her love, threatened to swallow the world around her.

                                            > In the now silenced meeting hall, the damning echoes of Queen Noctuid’s hoof steps thundered through the sitting audience. “Chrysalis, state your choice. Surrender Anonymous’ love willingly, or face the combined might of a continent,” she said, as she stopped in front of her.

                                            > With the speed of a sleep walker, the Whole-born Queen’s head turned to regard her fellow regents. Like in a haze, her words were slow and unsure.

                                            > “I... I... I wi-...”

                                            [spoiler]“I accept the terms of your duel, he said.”[/spoiler]

                                            > “No…”, Chrysalis whispered breathlessly as she shut her eyes.

                                            > A cacophony erupted instantly. Gasps and shouts cried out. Orders and commands were shouted out. Heads were turned so fast the protective scales creaked to stare at the human, who now stood, tall and proud, by his queen’s side.

                                            > Opposers and supporters cried out from their respective camps, adding only more noise into the discord enveloping the gathered.

                                            > “You, you can’t do that,” Buddleia shrieked, scrambling towards the man, in a staggered charge. “The duel is meant for Chrysalis alone! No being can take on her responsibility,” her voice boomed.

                                            “Tough luck, fuzzy buzz,” Anonymous said, waving off her claim with the golden papers in his hand. “Your document says nothing of who the challenge is meant for. Only that it was extended from your three hives, to the Badlands hive.”

                                            > With an angry shrill, the Baltimare matriarch tore the paper from his grasp, combing through the intricate texts as ancient curse words flew from her frothing fangs. Meanwhile, Queen Mentha simply observed the ongoing events, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

                                            > “I-I-I, I would never…” she stammered. Then, she focused her anger at the pale queen. “Noctuid, you never said anything about fighting the human!”

                                            > Queen Noctuid said nothing for a while, as Buddleia’s continuous shrieks of frustration pierced the talks and murmurs in the meeting hall. She studied the human’s eyes for a long while, as her face revealed nothing of what she was looking for.

                                            > “No,” she said calmly. “I did not.”

                                            > Looking flabbergasted at her, Queen Mentha opened and closed her mouth a few times. She looked from Noctuid, to the jaw dropped Chrysalis, to the raging Buddleia, to the mirthful Albuna and back again. “We-Well, what happens now?”

                                            > “That’s quite simple now, is it not?” she asked. Stepping forwards, she grabbed the lilac tail of the still fuming Buddleia in her magical grasp, and began dragging her back towards the heavy doors. Mentha followed dutifully behind her, stealing occasional glances back inside the room.

                                            > As the moth queen reached the door frame, she turned around. “Chrysalis, Allfather Anonymous, we meet in seven days, on the face of Sanctuary. Do try to be there.”

                                            > With that, she turned her back to them, and walked out. The various followings of the three queens quickly followed in their path, to leave under the watchful eye of the stationed guards.


                                            > A couple of hours later…


                                            > “You are a lunatic to even consider it, much less go through with it, Anonymous!”, Chrysalis cried, her voice echoing off the walls.

                                            > The human looked on calmly as his wife paced back and forth in the small room. Outside the doors, he could hear the dampened flurry of busy changelings scurrying around. Inside his ears, he could hear the blood and adrenaline pumping.

                                            > Never had he seen her this upset. Her temper had never been spurred to such degree. Not until now.

                                            “What alternatives do we have, honey?”

                                            > The queen’s head whipped around, her hair flailing along with it. “Alternatives? I am the ruler of the mightiest hive of this continent. I command the largest army of pheidoles. The tallest behemoths bend their knee to me. To Tartarus with alternatives!”

                                            > Sighing softly, the humans shoulders sagged.

                                            “And what good would that do? They can’t do what I must. At least I have a fighting chance.”

                                            > Chrysalis eyes narrowed, silvery tears drifting down her cheeks as she took a shivering breath of air. “You know nothing of what you speak, Anonymous, of what you will face.” she said. “I should go there. If nothing will save me from death, let love at least save me from life.”

                                            “You know as well as I, that I would never accept that,” he said.

                                            > Chrysalis looked him in the eyes for a moment, before casting her head downwards, tears dotting the floor. “Mother grant mercy, I hate that part of you,” she muttered.


                                            -------------------**-------------------

                                            > Recoiling from her harsh words, Anonymous rose from his seat.

                                            “I need some air, clear my thoughts,” he said.

                                            > As he passed her, his hand hovered over her downcast head, fidgeting with the notion of an earnest caress, but he dismissed the idea, leaving the brooding queen to her dark thoughts.

                                            > Closing the door behind him, the human’s shoulders sagged as the weight of the cramped room’s atmosphere lifted. Outside, the ongoing stress and bustle of active changelings running from one place to another and back again.

                                            > However, his entry into the fray was thankfully spared by the eight statures of the ever loyal behemoths, standing watch. Occasional glances flew his way, as the gloomy state of the two royals of the hive most have shone like a dreary beacon throughout the premise.

                                            > Caci’s towering figure was easy enough to pick out, even among her peers.

                                            > “Your highness,” she began, “is everything at peace?”

                                            > Mulling over her words as he turned to address her, a stray thought came to mind.

                                            “No, these few hours, even fewer things are,” he said. Turning again, he picked out the next changeling mare in line. “Neptunis, send for Scriba, I have matters I would like to discuss with her.”

                                            > Snapping to attention, the stoic behemoth replied; “At once, I’ll find the honorary royal notary, Scriba.”

                                            > Waving her off with a small acknowledging nod, Anonymous leaned up against the near tree trunk thick forelegs of Caci, as he studied the crowd passing them by.

                                            “Tell me, ‘o’ wise and mighty first of the royal behemoth guard, leader of the Badlands Vanguard and tertiary commander of the Badlands hive’, what is with the hurry?” he asked, tone filled with reminiscent mirth, nodding towards their surroundings.

                                            > “P-preparations for the duel, Allfather,” Caci replied, caught off guard by his use of her titles. “Such an event has not been held for ages, they take time to plan and arrange.”

                                            > His resting pole leaned as its owner shifted her weight.

                                            > “Of course, none of the guardlings or watches have swapped their posts for the preparations. The impregnable defenses of the hive remains ever vigilant,” she reported, emboldened by his attention on her work, and a small trace of pride evident in her tone.

                                            > Clapping her leg goodheartedly, Anonymous continued observing in silence.

                                            > Naught but a few minutes had passed, before Neptunis returned, the royal notary following dutifully behind. Scriba had brought a massive tome with her, silvery winding letters cladding the treated surface.

                                            > Stopping in front of the king, Neptunis saluted. “Reporting, the retrieval of honored royal notary Scriba was a success, Allfather.”

                                            > Now it was Anonymous’ turn to blink owlishly at the stiff vocabulary of the guardling.

                                            “Thank you, behemoth Neptunis, that is all,” he nodded, passing the guard, to look over the jittery changeling.

                                            > The notary held her eyes stiffly cast down, a nervous hoof clacking awkwardly against her temple, in a civilian’s attempt at military doctrine.

                                            > “Royal notary, Scriba, r-reporting, Allfather Anonymous.”

                                            > Smiling down at her, the human’s hand petted the soft mane on her head.

                                            “Thank you for coming here on such short notice. I want to go over some details of the recent hours with you, if you have the time?”

                                            > Stretching her legs to press into the contact, Scriba’s features relaxed and a droopy smile graced her face. Humming a small note, the notary was all but left from the world. A moment passed, a moment where her erratic nerves could be at peace, and the strain of the past days on her horn writing could mend.

                                            > Anonymous continued his ministrations in response to the quirky reaction, the display a welcome sight in light of the council’s demands.

                                            > Snorting in impatience, Caci clacked her griff in two rapid claps. The sounds easily pierced the noisy background, drawing the attention of the changelings passing by, before they returned to their tasks.

                                            > Scriba flinched at the sudden clatter, returning once more to the world of mortals.

                                            > “The Allfather asked a question of you, honored royal notary,” Caci commented dryly.

                                            > “O-Of course, Allfather A-Anonymous!” the petite changeling squeaked.

                                            > Sensing the moment had passed, Anonymous reached up to knock on Caci’s frontal bulwark. An easy method of getting the vanguard’s attention, he had noticed.

                                            “That goes for you as well, miss.”

                                            > A moment passed, as she looked to the other behemoths, some shrugging, others looking on in barely held amusement.

                                            > “You want me. To assist you and the honored royal notary. In discussions. Regarding politics?” she asked, looking down at the fist insistingly tapping on her front, her sentence stopping every now and then to accentuate her bewilderment.

                                            “I thought you’d never ask,” the human said. ”You can leave the tome here, Scriba, you won’t be needing it where we’ll be going.”

                                            > Leaving the remaining guards behind, the human began striding through the ocean of busy subjects, his cortege following in the wake he left behind.

                                            > As they made their way through the hive, advancing towards the upper levels, the bustle of worker drones slowly diminished, being replaced by the occasional guard in posts filled with weapon stocks.

                                            > Moving further up, the fortifications gave way to massive windows with magically enhanced glass facades revealing the night sky, dotted with myriads of stars. The full moon hung solemnly, lighting up the mountains in the horizon.

                                            > Finally, the king reached his destination, opening a large pair of marbled doors leading out to the royal balconies.

                                            > Intricately decorated statues of hiverock stood interspaced, on the plateau surrounded by a small hedge fence of a dark marble. Pedestals with magic fire illuminated the area, casting away the oppressive dark of the mildly chilly autumn night.

                                            > Anonymous walked to the edge of the balcony, leaning his frame on the smooth polished surface of the stone fencing. From this vantage point, he could easily see the moving dotted trail of magical torches far below, running from the hive out towards Sanctuary. He turned to look back at the odd pair standing a respectful distance away.

                                            “Tell me, notary Scriba, was I wrong?”

                                            > “Pardon me, Allfather? The petite mare began, casting a quick look on Caci for reassurance. “I don’t understand...”

                                            “Was it not my right to accept the duel?”, he asked again, striding back towards her.

                                            > “I-I-I really am not in a position to question...”

                                            > Anonymous now stood right in front of the nervously shaking changeling, her shaky breaths caught in the wind.

                                            “Tell me, Scriba, was I a fool to put myself in my queen’s place?”

                                            > “I don’t know!” Scriba finally relented.

                                            > Anonymous watched her for a moment.

                                            “Caci, was I...” he started, still looking down at the scribe.

                                            > “A right proper idiot of the ages, Allfather,” the answer came immediately. Scriba’s eyes reflected the shock her flabbergasted expression held. Anonymous’ before wrinkled brows now took on an apathetic expression, his stunned stare gazing across the wasteland.

                                            “I… I’m a what?” he inquired, turning to look up at the guard.

                                            >Taking in another breath, the behemoth continued. “Only a downright imbecile would take up such a challenge. It’s foolish beyond mortal measure for one to face the power of not one, but three changeling queens in their prime.”

                                            > “Ca-Caci, stop, I think he…” Scriba lamented.

                                            > “Why, I don’t think the courts have ever witnessed such an order of id...”. Whatever the captain meant to say petered out, as she looked down at the human’s flabbergasted expression.

                                            “That bad?” Anonymous asked monotonously.

                                            > Caci nodded. The king’s shoulders sagged, as he leaned his weight back on top of the marble surface of the fence.

                                            “I appreciate your… honesty, Caci. I do.”

                                            > “T-Thank you, Allfather,” the behemoth replied awkwardly.

                                            > Scriba shuffled over to stand beside him, supporting her stature on the fencing in a manner much the same as the human’s.

                                            > “If I may, Allfather, perhaps we could reconcile with the other queens, offer something in return for deconstructing the trials?”

                                            > The heavy huff of Caci’s breath tickled the hairs on Anonymous’ scalp, as the behemoths obvious disapproval emanated from her lungs.

                                            > “A royal unable to stand off in a Duel of Change is unfit to lead a hive. They would be shunned from the courts. Even by their own hive. The time for negotiations have long passed, notary.”

                                            > Caci stomped an armored hoof into the ground, to accompany her self-fueled righteousness. “No, I say we should have caught this malignant plot in the bud, and killed the queens inside the very halls of our hive. Meeting here under the guise of good will and clear carapace, only to stab a threat at our heart of hearts.”

                                            “You would have fought the queens inside the meeting chamber?”, Anonymous asked, his eyebrows a fraction of distance from his hairline.

                                            > Clacking her crest in confirmation, the captain nodded. “Why, yes, counting all of the present soldiers and the behemoth vanguard, we obviously had the physical advantage at the time, an-“.

                                            > The giant’s words was abruptly silenced as the hysteric form of the otherwise calm and collected notary impacted the fortified chitin on the behemoth’s face, knocking her head back. “Are you positively brain vented, captain Caci?!”, Scriba shrieked.

                                            > Locking eyes with the irate buzzing changeling on her snout, Caci blinked in confusion. “Am I what now?”

                                            > Scrunching up fiercely in frustration, the notary puffed up in educated animosity. “You would attack three foreign queens under the protection of royal request, inside the very halls they just had a meeting in?”

                                            > Giving no answer in return besides a casual shrug, the notary continued, tapping her hoof impatiently.

                                            > “Are you so blindingly brutish that you would cast away millennia of traditions, values, and etiquette, to have a chance of throttling a royal?

                                            > “As a matter of fact, yes I am!”, Caci replied, snorting. “Had you not heard how they disrespected both the queen and Allfather Anonymous?”

                                            > The petite notary’s wings flickered angrily, as her temper flared. “I thank the ancients that someling managed to hammer a piece of discipline into your skull, and you didn’t.”

                                            > “Oh yea?!”

                                            > “Yes I do. Because at that point in time, in that place you and your guard were in, could you, beyond a shred of a doubt, have guaranteed that the Allfather wouldn’t have been hurt, or worse, killed in the ensuing skirmish?”

                                            > “As a matter of fact, I…” she started, only for her enthusiasm to trickle out of her voice. “I… I could not,” the behemoth repeated breathlessly as her legs buckled beneath her, and she sat with a thud.

                                            > “It is as you said, captain, the time has passed. The mask is drawn.”

                                            > Scriba’s features softened, as she jumped off the slouching giant. “So, what do we do now, Allfather?” she asked, looking to the human.

                                            > His eyes glancing from the form of the disheartened behemoth, to the face of the frazzled mare, Anonymous was silent for a long time.

                                            “I wager all I really can do is try to make a honest end, of an honest start,” he said.

                                            > Scriba walked over besides him, sitting on her hunches, as her otherwise orderly mane fell from her head as soft streams of azure. “But how, Allfather?”, she asked.

                                            > Placing a reassuring hand on her head, paternally patting the soft hair on her head, the human smiles down at her reassuringly.

                                            “I need armour.”


                                            ~ Meanwhile, in the hive library…

                                            “Nevar, where in the seven hells are the tomes on duel regulations?!” Chrysalis roared in frustration.

                                            > The calm changeling at the queen’s side took a quick glance on the adjacent bookcase, before the ethereal grasp of a humble telekinesis took hold of an old musty tome sitting on the shelf.

                                            > ‘Requests, Challenges, and Duels for dumdums’, the golden spine read in elaborate runes.

                                            > “Right here, my queen,” she replied dutifully.

                                            > A mumbled thanks followed as the Whole-born Queen tore open the book, pages flying past her quickly skimming eyes.

                                            > ‘In a Duel of Change, no hexes, curses, jinxes, enchantments, bewitchments, charms, voodoo or other otherwise malignant spells may be cast on the opponent.’

                                            > ‘No outsider may help or assist either contestant, either physically or magically while inside the area of battle.’

                                            > ‘The duel is settled using either might of hoof, horn, wing, fang, claw or weapon. In the event of weapon usage, only telekinesis is allowed, at no more than eight hoof steps from the caster.’

                                            > As Chrysalis read through the multiple pages worth of stocky laws and rules, a shiver coursed through her as she reached the final rule.

                                            > ‘The victor is chosen in three ways: The opponent yields, the opponent is incapacitated, or the opponent dies by the might of the victor.’

                                            > Closing the tome with a loud thump, Chrysalis took a shaking breath.

                                            “Mother’s mercy, what have they done?” she asked aloud.

                                            > “Would you like me to answer that, my queen?” Nevar asked dryly, ears turning towards her regent.

                                            > The Whole-born groaned into her hooves, massaging the bridge of her snout. This day had been the worst of her life, growing more and more dreadful by the hour.

                                            “No, but you can tell me what other disasters and crises has arisen within the last hour.”

                                            > Taking a reaffirming look down at a small piece of paper procured from a petite bag on her hunches, the secretary quickly resumed looking back at her charge. “Overseer Matabele has requested your presence in the nursery.”

                                            > Figures, Chrysalis mused. The overseer had a mind sharp as a whip, and few things in the hive passed him by unnoticed. He was the primary driving force behind her behemoth guard, and the initiative to no small amount of changes to the operating procedures in the hive programs.

                                            > His work had improved the lives and recovery of numerous changelings in the hive, earning him both the respect of overwhelming mare population, and the adoration of the few of her stallion subjects.

                                            ~ Some time later…

                                            > Carefully sniffing the ethereal whisks of steam rising from her cup, Chrysalis had to add yet another achievement to Matabele. He truly did brew the best pepper-thorn tea in the hive.

                                            > Sighing deeply, she looked up from the edge of the old chineighse porcelain, and spectated her host pouring a himself a cup.

                                            > Across from her, sitting in a chair similar to her own, Overseer Matabele reclined backwards, his own cup of steaming tea held in his magical grasp.

                                            > His winding horn’s few minuscule cracks here and there, and the crow’s feet accenting his eyes were the only indications of a long and busy life. Usually, the few male drones that ever blessed the hive preferred simple jobs in the nursery and basic tasks in the infirmary.

                                            > Matabele, however, was of a different sort, however. He had insisted on being assigned more and more work when he first started as an assistant nurse, taking on greater degrees of responsibility and facing the challenges he came across.

                                            > Lost in her thoughts, Chrysalis failed to notice how the overseer had caught her studying him, as he tilted his head slightly.

                                            > “What’s on your mind, my second-favourite queen,” his hoarse voice asked.

                                            > Snapping out of her stupor, the queen’s brows furrowed.

                                            “In these days, more than you know, Matabele. Also, second-favourite?” she asked, taking a careful sip from her cup’s warm contents.

                                            > Chuckling to himself, Matabele leaned forward to grab himself a small biscuit, dipping it in his tea. “Do allow an old stallion the joy of playing favourites. Honourable Queen Amber’s suggestion of using ‘clover honey’ for treating patients was most interesting.”

                                            > Invoking his magic, the old stallion browsed through a small notebook from the table, turning a couple of pages before continuing.

                                            > “The idea to combine love honey with restorative herbs... most intuitive. It’ll be a great boon for the infirmary.” he commented.

                                            > Scoffing softly, Chrysalis could not help roll her eyes.

                                            “You have grown rebellious in your long years, overseer.”

                                            > Finishing the last bite of his treat, the stallion put down the notebook again, and looked at his queen’s lightly peeved facade.

                                            > “So it would seem, my queen,” he said acknowledgingly, levitating the small bowl of biscuits. “But long years do tend to grant a resemblance of wisdom.”

                                            > Cocking an eyebrow, Chrysalis took one of the offered salt biscuits.

                                            “Oho? To what end does this newfound wisdom go?”

                                            > Picking up a small stack of papers, Matabele quickly scanned them over, before hoofing the gathered stack to her. Returning a questioning look the other way, Chrysalis took the papers, starting to read the swirly lines.

                                            > “It is my report on the vanguard program. The current status of those not yet ready to join it, a recount of the stockpiles of ambrosia, as well as three varying estimates for how long the hive can sustain the current and final number of behemoths.”

                                            > Turning over the page, Chrysalis quickly found a number of graphs detailing a corresponding number of timelines.

                                            > Idly waving a hoof in exasperation, the overseer picked up a new paper in his magic, delivering it the same way as its predecessors.

                                            > “This is a confirmation of the temporary halting of the behemoth program due to a potential future ambrosia shortage”, he said with a sliver of professional chagrin. “The behemoth nymphs have already been placed in stasis, until either you or I call it off.”

                                            “I wanted to speak with you concerning this, but it seems your wisdom exceeds the speed of my own hooves...” Chrysalis commented in agreement. “A great many things will be decided within the next week.”

                                            > None of them said anything, as the weight of her words sank in. Shoulders sagging, Chrysalis looked to her host, her face mired by fear and sorrow.

                                            “Tell me, Matabele, besides I, you are the single most knowledgeable changeling on the continent concerning humans, correct?”

                                            > Nodding solemnly, Matabele’s features softened at the unsure tone of the queen’s voice. “I believe I am, my queen. You *did* ask me to nurture the honourable Allfather back to health after his appearance out in the wild, all that time ago.”

                                            > Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Chrysalis continued.

                                            “Then I ask you, overseer Matabele, do you believe Anonymous to stand a chance when he must face the three queens at the trial?”

                                            The overseer was quiet for a long time, as he mulled over his answer, weighing the various considerations before making up his mind. “Yes, I believe in the Allfather.”

                                            “You do?” she asked.

                                            > “Do you not, my queen?” he returned her question with another, a mild surprise covering his face.

                                            > Casting down her head in shameful embarrassment, Chrysalis stared holes into the table between them.

                                            “I do not know, Matabele,” she explained, her magical grasp of the cup flickering as she delved into her own insecurities. “I want to believe. By my heart of hearts, I want to believe he will persevere, and come out on the other side, so that I may again kiss his soft lips.

                                            > Taking a steadying breath, she continued.

                                            “I want to feel his honest love for my true self, so that I in turn may love him unwaveringly until the end of days.”

                                            > Silvery tears streaked across her cheeks, falling to silently kiss the bottom of her now empty teacup as they fell. Chrysalis turned her sights back to meet the stallion’s gaze.

                                            “I want it to believe it to be possible so very much, Matabele. I feel as if… as if I would break into innumerable pieces if I were to consider the… alternative.”

                                            > Again, the silence ruled in the long pause.

                                            > “Do you know something he does not, Chrysalis?” the overseer asked softly, voice emanating sympathy.

                                            > Chrysalis eyes glazed over, as she wrought her eyes from his.

                                            “It is not something he does not know. It is something he could never understand. The dangers he will face inside that arena, the very pinnacles of the changeling race. Queen Mentha, the greatest in the arts of subtlety, Queen Buddleia the Ever Shifting and Queen Noctuid, the Moth Sorceress.”

                                            > Standing from her seat to pace around the room, Chrysalis barely took breath before continuing.

                                            “He will cross with centuries, no, millennia worth of experience in the greatest incantations, tactics and reality-bending powers ever known to our kind,” she concluded.

                                            > Watching her calmly from his seat, the stallion put down his now empty cup of tea down.

                                            > “If I may be so brash, my queen, I believe you still do not know everything there is about to know the Allfather,” Matabele finally said.

                                            > Taking her silence for as a sign to proceed, the overseer rose from his seat, to stand beside the regent.

                                            > “Back when Allfather Anonymous wandered these treacherous lands that surrounds us all, it was not his love for you that kept him standing, as he did not know of you yet.”

                                            “I am not sure if I understand your point, overseer…” Chrysalis began.

                                            > Lifting a small handkerchief to dap the remains of tears off the face of his ruler, the stallion continued.

                                            > “You see, my queen, beneath the soft and caring facade of the Allfather, in his very centre of being… There is a core of the strongest hive rock I have ever witnessed in all my years.”

                                            > Scoffing in annoyance, Chrysalis turned away. “You mean to equate the two scenarios, as if they are alike, Matabele,” she said. “A hydra’s claw and a cat’s can never be comparable.”

                                            > Smiling reassuringly, he continued. “My point is, that very core inside him let him overcome the wilds, his wounds, his fatigue and the biggest threat he had most likely ever faced at the time.”

                                            > Nodding his head knowingly to her midst, he concluded. “Combined with the blessing of your love, and the knowledge of you two’s future kin… You asked me if I believe in the Allfather. I in turn ask you again, how could you not?”

                                            ~ Some time later.

                                            > The walk back to her chambers from the overseer’s office was a very sobering experience to Chrysalis.

                                            > The earlier buzzle of her subjects had passed down for the night. Having already dismissed her assistant, as well as the designated guard, she had simply opted to wait at the doors for Anonymous’ return from his walk.

                                            > No matter how little she felt like crediting the old stallion, Matabele’s words had struck a cord in her.

                                            > With not a minute to consider, her lover had laid down his head on the block for her, and taken her place in the arena.

                                            > Sure, she could have commanded one of her behemoths to represent her instead. Each and every one of them would have happily done so, most likely getting themselves crushed in the ensuing fight.

                                            > It would have been nothing but an empty stalling of her current situation, offering little hope of actually succeeding.

                                            > Hearing the tell-tale sounds of heels hitting the floor echoing towards her, Chrysalis shuddered as she quickly dispelled the remnants of her dark trail of thoughts.

                                            > Turning the corner, Anonymous’s elegant stride revealed nothing of the deep thoughts his facial features spoke leagues of. Evidently, his solitary walk indicated that he had made the same decision as her, to relieve his entourage of their duties.

                                            > Spotting her form, his face lit up in a tired smile. Before he utter a word, Chrysalis bowed her head.

                                            “I am sorry for my actions earlier, Anonymous, I beg your forgiveness. I understand now that you did what you did from your love and adoration of me. You have willingly put yourself in my stead, and for that, you have my eternal gratitude.”

                                            > Crossing the distance between the two of them, the human brought up a hand to delicately guide her head upwards, stealing a quick kiss on her lips.

                                            > “Honey, you’re hormonal,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Please don’t ever ask for my forgiveness, you already have my all.”

                                            > Peppering her jawline and cheeks with small pecks, a filly-like snicker escaped the Whole-born Queen. Pushing a hoof against his chest, she looked into his soft eyes.

                                            “Care to join me in the royal quarters, beloved? I have had a most dreadful day, and only your lovely ministrations can help.”

                                            > A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. “From the way your thighs are rubbing together, I have a hunch that I would very much like to indulge in your offer.

                                            > A blush erupted on her cheeks, but before she could retort, the human had already torn open the doors, all but dragging her along with into the softly lit sleeping quarters.

                                            > Throwing herself onto the emerald sheets, she craned her head back across her shoulder, looking on as the human disrobed slowly. Meaningfully unbuttoning his shirt, Anonymous flexed his arms and chest as his upper body contorted lavishly in a display very much for her pleasure.

                                            > As his arms moved downwards, undoing his leggings, a most gracious act of balancing on one foot, and then the other was mandated to complete the act.

                                            > Standing before her, only clad in a simple piece of cloth, his excitement was plain to see, through the pitched fabric.

                                            > Responding in a similar fashion, Chrysalis fixed him with a smouldering stare, as she moved onto her back with a deliberately slow roll. Achingly slowly, she spread her plump and glistening thighs, letting her mountainous teats roll as they wished, and flashing him her damp, lightly pearling nethers.

                                            > From her marehood, a faint trail of her excitement ran down her thighs, to stain the cloth beneath her in a dark hue. A single drop of fluid slowly made its way down the mountainous ass, the sole center of Anonymous’ attention.

                                            > With a soft flickering of her long tail, Chrysalis waved around the heady pheromone-laden air surrounding her, enveloping the chambers in her scent.

                                            “~Oh beloved~”, her singsong voice called huskily. “Your queen needs her consort to do his duty,” she said as she winked twice at him in rapid succession.

                                            > Anonymous stood still as he watched the display in front of him, entirely enraptured by her sensual manners as her body ushered him far away from the worries of the mortal world.

                                            > Taking in a deep breath, he shuddered with a pleased hum, his covered manhood throbbing heartedly.

                                            > Clearing her throat softly to emphasize her request, she barely had time to register his speed before he had dived forward headfirst.

                                            > Grabbing her vast thighs with his hands, clinging on like a drowning to a life raft, he barely stopped for a moment to consider the sight before him.

                                            > The soft ebony teats resting peacefully above his prize rocked back and forwards as he playfully adjusted his grip. The soft heat emanating from the cushioning pair was dwarfed by the warmth from the luminous belly peaking lightly above.

                                            > The tender emerald glow reflected in his eyes, as the feeling of his staggered breath across her engorged moist lips made Chrysalis shiver in anticipation.

                                            “Anawn...” she mewled impatiently, placing a soft hoof on his head.

                                            > Taking her cue, and being the cultured man he was, Anonymous enjoyed performing oral, as much as Chrysalis enjoyed receiving it. Starting slowly, he began placing kisses as light as a feather along the insides of her silky thighs, as his hands tenderly kneaded her soft udders.

                                            > Pleased with her successful persuasion, Chrysalis leaned back on the bed with a content croon, opting to allow herself the greedy joy of focusing on the experience in full.

                                            > As he progressed further in towards his destination, the human opted for swapping out the kisses with long broad tongue strokes along her fat exterior lips.

                                            > Shifting his shoulders inwards, his hands moved from tending to the two immaculate orbs, to the perky nipples adorning each one. Lightly rolling the pliant tops between his fingertips, Anonymous continued cupping each in his palms, as his ministrations went on.

                                            > The soft whine occasionally escaping the hoof covering the queen’s mouth was a clear indicator that his efforts were very much appreciated.

                                            > Seeing her clit poke out, Anonymous took the “invitation”, catching it between his lips and holding it. A squeal rocks through the room.

                                            > “What was that, honey?”, he asks honestly, starting to lift his head to look up.

                                            > A pair of hooves crisscross behind his head, catching him by surprised. With a heave of muscles, his lips are all but thrown back to her nethers. Heavy thighs resting around his head, Anonymous only catches a few notes of the echoing moan from Chrysalis.

                                            > Electrical buzzes flying through her body, she is washed away on the tide of the pleasure flowing all around. Deaf to the world, she rests her head back on silken pillows, a pleased sigh escaping her lips.

                                            > Laying there for several seconds, in the bliss of an incredible afterglow, all the worries of seep out of her stressed mind. Instead, filling her with a pleasant warm touch of conte...

                                            > An insistent finger prods the side of her hips, drawing her attention. Looking down, the top of her lover’s head sits enveloped in her wide back legs. It is funny, it is almost like he can’t bre-

                                            “Mother’s mercy, Anonymous!” Chrysalis shrieks, rapidly undoing his meaty prison, dragging him up beside her on the sheets.

                                            > A series of gasps rock his body, as he draws in precious air.

                                            “Anonymous, beloved, are you okay?”, she asks voice sharp with worry, as she softly claps his face with a hoof. His eyes wander for a bit, before catching her eyes.

                                            > …W-was that good for you too, h-honey?”, he asks raggedly, prodding up himself on an elbow. The queen cannot help a deep flush from exploding across her checks. Scuffing in relived annoyance, she pushes him down into the mattress.

                                            “Your jokes, Anonymous,” she comments dryly, as she straddles him, “does a poor job to ease your beloved queen’s worries.”

                                            > Despite her solemn tone, a telltale sense of mirth plays along with a delightful tingle, echoing in the good-natured chuckle vibrating in the broad chest beneath her front hooves.

                                            > Leaning down to drag a long tongue across his lips, she picks up the unmistakable taste of him and herself. The pale scent of his natural musk and the tickling feeling of his downy stubble teasing her senses is quickly washed away by the wave of affection for her pouring from him.

                                            > Repositioning herself to sit comfortably on his pelvis, his eager manhood jutted defiantly horizontally from its anchor. Nestled in the soft and warm embrace of her maternal teats, the hard throbs rocking the rod prompts a few errant drops of pre from its tip.

                                            > The sound of the two's conjoined panting in the little room is the only sound, their closeness nearing a near breath-sharing affair.

                                            > Lifting her heavy posterior up and dragging a slow hoof down his chest, Chrysalis catches his cock in her soft frog, guiding it towards her dripping lips.

                                            > Watching in barely held anticipation, Anonymous looks on as his manhood is swallowed greedily, disappearing behind her moist feminine folds.

                                            > As their hips join together, the two sigh deeply, enjoying the intimate feeling of the other.

                                            > “Chrysalis, you really are the most beautiful mare I have ever seen,” Anonymous starts, as he begins moving his hands towards her nipples.

                                            > Tsking in mock disapproval, the queen catches his hands with her hooves, stopping his advance. Her heady voice purrs from her lips, a chime of excitement sweetening her message.

                                            “Let me, beloved Anonymous, guide the reins for tonight.”

                                            > Her tone chains his being, as his eyebrows crest in surprise. Seemingly accepting her demand, the human concedes his defeat, laying down his hands by his side.

                                            > A happy smile crests her face, lightening up the room. Placing her hooves on his shoulders for support, she slowly moves herself up, dragging herself up on his length.

                                            > Stopping just short of his tip, she repeats the action in reverse and glides down the slick surface. Thighs shuddering in pleasure, Chrysalis bites her lips softly, as she picks up a slow and methodical rhythm in her effort.

                                            > Pacing herself, the changeling queen maintains a clockwork-like flow in her ministrations. The soft clapping of bodies making contact and the total control of the situation is exhilarating to her.

                                            > Feeling the tip of his manhood slowly spreading her is exquisite. This is what she desired for so long, what she needed, what she was made for. All to fulfill her deep-seated instincts.

                                            > The pleasured look on his face only confirms her in what she feels from him, the love, the pleasure, the trust.

                                            > The deep moans of the human beneath hear, and the trembling cock spearing her pussy is filling up her world.

                                            > Anonymous’ consented submission, her position on top, and the feeling of her setting the pace catches quickly catches up with her.

                                            > Slowing down her movement all for naught, the sensations and thoughts guides her over the edge again. However, where the earlier culmination was swift and violent, this one is gentle and filled to the brim with the affection from her love.

                                            > Taking his shaft to the hilt, her marehood grips his cock like a vice. Separate muscles spring to action, working their hardest to milk him of his seed, desperate for the finale her body so deeply yearns for.

                                            > In the midst of her throes of passion, she feel Anonymous surrender to the pleasure, washing her insides white in a flood of cum and her heart of hearts with passion.

                                            > The throbbing continues for what feels like eternity, only spurring her own culmination further on.

                                            > Finally, breathing staggeringly, Chrysalis looked down at the face of the human, the long locks of her hair falling in cascades around her features, framing her face in a sea of delicate azure.

                                            > Anonymous, in kind, is in no better condition. His chest moves as his lungs fill and empty, a light sweat pearling on the top of his brow.

                                            > Moving slowly to keep him inside her, Chrysalis carefully moves to lay on his chest. Taking great care to move her long horn out of the way, the great queen laid her head peacefully in the crook of his neck.

                                            > Lovingly, Anonymous sees his chance, moving his arms around her back, catching her in a fond embrace.

                                            “Anonymous…”, Chrysalis begins, but falters.

                                            > Humming in confirmation, the human drums softly with his fingers, encouraging her to continue. The seconds go by in the silence.

                                            “Do you… promise to always hold me, like this?”

                                            > Anonymous pauses, sensing the tenseness and softness in her voice.

                                            > “Always, Chrysalis.” he says.

                                            “And never letting go?”

                                            > “Never.”

                                            > A throaty purr leaves her throat, her soft griff clapping in content.


                                            -------------------**-------------------


                                            ~ Seven days layer.

                                            “’Unreasonable’? What do you mean ‘unreasonable’, I am being perfectly reasonable, beloved,” Chrysalis retorted, her elevated voice echoing slightly in the long hallway.

                                            > Shoulders sagging, and heaving a deep sigh for the umpteenth time that day, Anonymous grimaced as he walked.

                                            > “Look, honey, all I’m saying is there’s no way I’m allowing you to step hoof into that arena, in your condition,” he said, poking a finger at her vibrantly glowing side.

                                            > A snappy rap by one of her wings and a huff is the immediate reply.

                                            “And all *I* am saying is that those cretins could have planted innumerable traps and hidden weaponry beneath your feet, only waiting for you to make a wrong step. Besides, an arena is no place for a consort. He should be preparing home cooked meals for his queen, and taking care of her every whim,” she said matter-of-factly with her agitated tail swishing.

                                            > Anonymous, wisely, simply shook his head with no comment.

                                            > A soft cough was heard behind the pair. A couple of steps behind them, Nevar casually observed the royal couple over the top of her notebook.

                                            > “My queen, as I’ve confirmed multiple times, the royal arena has been under constant guard for the whole period since the declaration,” she said. “It’s quite simply impossible for anyling to tamper with the area without us knowing.

                                            > “Thank you, Nevar,” Anonymous said, wearing a smug smile as he turned to his wife. “See?” he asked.

                                            “Wiled by my own confidant,” Chrysalis pouted. “Most likely bribed by you,” she said, poking an accusatory hoof in his ribs.

                                            > Holding up his hands in a disarming fashion, Anonymous chuckled. “I swear, I have had no prior interaction with miss Nevar or her-”

                                            > “I was promised three minutes of uninterrupted belly rubs, and four head pats no shorter than two seconds each,” the assistant said, voice and demeanour kept ever professional.

                                            > The silence following the mare’s words stretched on for an uncomfortable long time, as they walked.

                                            > “Am I sleeping on the couch?” the human asked carefully.

                                            > Chrysalis barely caught herself in time from stumbling.

                                            “On the couch? Oh Anonymous, I have much better places for your head to rest on,” she said, mirthfully.

                                            > The king’s brows furrowed in confusion, before he reached up with a hand to awkwardly rub at the back of his neck, snickering.

                                            > Joining her love in a brief moment of relief, Chrysalis soon quieted down, as the situation they found themselves in came back to the front of her mind.

                                            > Noticing his wife’s silence, Anonymous turned to look up at her, studying her graceful features, marred by worry.

                                            > “What’s eating you up, love?” he asked, placing a hand around her neck, pulling her close to his chest.

                                            > Leaning into his embrace, the queen scoffed at the irony.

                                            “Eating me up? Anonymous dearest, we are on our way to have you strapped into a suit of armour, to do battle with no less than three hive queens. Forgive my bluntness, but how in the Second Circle can you keep so calm?” Chrysalis countered with an incredulous look on her face.

                                            > Anonymous was silent for a while, his face stoic and unreadable. Then, he placed a gentle kiss on her jaw as he smiled softly.

                                            > “The thought of freeing you from such worries is the source of my calm,” he said simply. “Your happiness is my happiness.”

                                            > Chrysalis stumbled, her words tumbling out, as her cheeks flushed.

                                            “S-Sharing emotions? I-I’m supposed to be the changeling in this relationship, just so y-you know.”

                                            > Composing herself once again, the queen swayed down towards the secretary by her side.

                                            “Did you manage to pass along my message?” she asked.

                                            > Glancing up from her notes, the mare nodded shortly. “As always, my queen, I live to serve.” she confirmed. “She agreed to meet under the terms you proposed.”

                                            > Noticing his queen’s distraction, Anonymous leaned down as well. “Who’s meeting whom?” he asked, whispering conspiratorially.

                                            > Careening her head up again, Chrysalis continued walking unabated.

                                            “The only outside changeling we can trust in these trying times,” she said, sending an earnest smile his way.

                                            > “Outside changeling?” Anonymous asked, hesitating, as he mulled over the options. Using his fingers to keep track, with a patient onlooking Chrysalis beside him, the options were quickly squashed out. The trio passed another corner on their way, the passageway ending at a great pair of doors.

                                            > “Wait a minute, do you mean…” he started, before locking eyes with a new pair of glee filled amber eyes, waiting patiently outside the barred doors.

                                            > “Allfather Anonymous!”, came the cheer from the easily recognisable shape of the jungle hive queen, turning to fully face the approaching human.

                                            > “Albuna?” Anonymous finishes bewildered, stopping dead in his tracks. “Forgive my ignorance, but what is Queen Albuna doing here?”

                                            > Clearing her throat, Chrysalis stepped forward, nodding to her fellow ruler.

                                            “She’s here, because only she can do the task I have for her,” she said cryptically. “I am glad you accepted my request, Albuna.”

                                            > Not used to the warm attention, the younger queen laughed nervously.

                                            > “Anytime, think nothing of it, Chrysalis,” she said in a serious tone, clacking a hoof to her temple a bit too hard in her fervour. “I am honoured to be given the task of isolating the arena from outside interference... even if I’ve never tried it before” she finished, wincing as she rubbed her head.

                                            > Seemingly pleased with the queen’s antics, Chrysalis turned to address Nevar, who in turn wordlessly retrieved a sizeable scroll from her saddlebags. The large piece of paper was golden, and created a faint trail of dust in its wake, from the light of the braziers.

                                            > Seizing the paper for herself, the Whole-born carefully unrolled it, looking over its swirly lines and delicate rune bindings a final time, before hovering it in front of the other queen.

                                            “Good thing I brought this then. Can you read it?”

                                            > Albuna blinked owlishly, stunned shortly by the intricate contents of the scroll. The richly detailed incantation held a number of secondary and tertiary countermeasures, enchantments, formulas and charms.

                                            Slowly, Albuna leaned her head to the side, to look past the paper, at Chrysalis with a puzzled expression.

                                            > “Do you ask because I live in a jungle? That’s a bit rude, even for you, Chrysalis,” she said, pouting.

                                            > Now, it was Chrysalis turn to blink in confusion, before shaking the scroll around in her magical grasp in frustration.

                                            “Of all the hardships… No, I’m asking if you can read and cast a ninth tier magical shield in an enclosed area, as my message described!”

                                            > “Oooh…”, Albuna said, as the Whole-born’s intentions came to light. “Yea, I can do that,” she said simply.

                                            > Pinching her nose, Chrysalis hoofed over the scroll for the young queen to grasp.

                                            “Lovely, as I just so happens to be in need of an unaffiliated and unbiased queen to cast it for the duel. The Laws dictate the need for an outside queen, to prevent any cheating.” Scoffing to herself, she continued. “As if I would need to step so low.”

                                            > With a small creak, the heavy doors to the smithy started opening. A demure head of a young mare, all but a few days past her first moulting, peeked out. Spotting the ensemble, a quick gasp escaped her.

                                            > “M-Most h-honourable Allmother, most honourable Allfather, m-most honourable queen Al-”

                                            “Spare us the pleasantries, my loyal drone, we have a busy schedule. Is the armour ready?”

                                            > Whether from the shock of being addressed directly by her queen, or the presence of royals, the drone passed for a long second.

                                            > “Is the- Oh yes, it is ready!” she said, beaming a bright smile. “We’re bringing in all the pieces now. The honourable royal smith is standing by, supervising.”

                                            > Turning to the human at her side, Chrysalis placed a small peck on his cheek, before patting him on the back with one of her wings.

                                            “That’s your cue, beloved. I have some other matters to discuss with Albuna. Queen business, you know. Go ahead, we’ll join you shortly” she said, waving a hoof in a nonchalant fashion.

                                            > Returning the gesture, Anonymous placed a parting kiss of his own on her cheek, before wordlessly following the assistant drone.

                                            > Watching in silence, the two queens watched the human disappear behind the doors, before they closed once again.

                                            > “…You know, one of these days, the two of you are going to give an unsuspecting changeling diabetes,” Albuna commented dryly.

                                            > Tearing off her eyes from the gates, Chrysalis smiled good-heartedly.

                                            “Was it something I said? You should know, at some point in life, it’s not about what’s said but rather what’s left unsaid.” she said innocently, mirth playing at the corners of her lips.

                                            > Chuckling to herself, Albuna put aside the scroll to study her royal colleague. “I knew I sensed a sagely piece of advice within in that tone of voice.”

                                            > Raising an eyebrow in mock indignation, Chrysalis snorted.

                                            “Sagely advice? From me? Please, I’m much too young to be considered a sage. You should see honourable Queen Noctuid for that."

                                            > Hiding her smirk behind a hoof, Albuna continued.

                                            > “Oho, then I should consult honourable Queen Neptuna for advice on acquiring such a charismatic personality as hers."

                                            > The two of them shared a moment of laughter, their voices echoing in the otherwise silent hallway.

                                            “I do so enjoy casual banter,” Chrysalis said, wiping away a stray tear of joy from her eye. “Anonymous’ taught me to appreciate a great many things.”

                                            > Sighing in complacency, the Whole-born leaned against the wall, opting to remain in thoughtful silence.

                                            > “Tell me about him,” Albuna said, breaking off the queen’s trail of thoughts.

                                            > Turning to regard the younger queen, Chrysalis paused with a raised eyebrow in question.

                                            > “Oh cut me some slack, Chrysalis,” Albuna lamented in exasperation. “I can’t help my curiosity! I do this for you, the least you could do is tell me what’s so special about him. You’ve stood up against the council, following that up with an excommunication from said council. What’s so special about him?”

                                            > Watching the jungle queen finish venting her curiosity, Chrysalis sighed.

                                            “He’s…” Chrysalis began, awkwardly tapping her front hooves together.

                                            “He’s… he’s…”

                                            > Groaning loudly, Albuna interrupted the stalling Whole-born.

                                            > “He’s what, Chrysalis?”, the queen asked. “‘Lovable’, ‘easy on the eyes’, ‘a good lay’, which is it?”

                                            “He’s… everything,” she said lamely.

                                            “He’s everything?” Albuna mirrored.

                                            “Everything”, Chrysalis repeated, a sappy smile on her face. “He’s eloquent and studious – he probably knows more about the laws and records of my hive than I do. He’s compassionate and caring, not just of me, but to every ling from the smallest of nymphs to the greatest of behemoths. He’s also laborious and proactive, he works tirelessly on improving the lives of those around him and the hive as a whole.”

                                            > Watching the older queen rattle on, singing the human’s praise, Albuna scratched at her chin with an idle hoof.

                                            > “That’s it?” she asked sarcastically, already well aware that it was not.

                                            “...And he’s a damn good lay!” Chrysalis finished with bravura.

                                            > Throwing her head back, Albuna guffawed audibly.

                                            > “That’s it? Did you forget anything?”

                                            “No, I don’t think I have. By my heart of hearts, I love him,” she declared, her voice unwavering.

                                            >”Chrysalis please, you’re not just in love with him, you’re absolutely smitten with him. You are, honest to the ancients, head over hoof enamoured with him.”

                                            > Scoffing softly, Chrysalis dismissed the accusations with a roll of her shoulder, and a small clatter of her griff.

                                            “So would you, in my place,” she said.

                                            > Chuckling to herself, the jungle queen relented.

                                            > “I guess I would,” she admits. “Can you blame me though? All the love any hive could ever need or want, given freely. I’d be crazy not to.”

                                            > Glancing back towards the heavy metal doors, Chrysalis studied the reflective brazen surface for a brief respite following the other queen’s reply.

                                            “You asked me a question, Albuna, and I answered it truthfully. May I ask you return the same favour to me?”

                                            > Sensing the change of tone, the other queen nodded silently, leaning her head to indicate for Chrysalis to continue.

                                            > Mulling over her words, the Whole-born took a second to gather her thoughts.

                                            “How long… how long would it take for you to bring it down, the shield I mean.”

                                            > Looking down at the spell chant again, the soft amber hue of the jungle queens horn lights up.

                                            > Slowly, a similar hued incantation appears floating in the air in front of her. Studying the magic runes carefully, Albuna leans her head from one side to the other as she studies the intricacies of the spell.

                                            > “It’s difficult to say, Chrysalis. The primary focus is simple enough in and of itself. The issues are well...” She gestured vaguely at the swirling inscriptions near the centre of the page. “all the secondary catalysts, and the tertiary impeti around it.”

                                            “Just give me a number, Albuna,” Chrysalis comments.

                                            > “I… I’d say at least thirty seconds, maybe more. The sheer scale of this thing forces me to start all the way from the supporting alumnus spells – oh dear, they are reinforced as well - and then work my way inwards, before I can even start on the shield itself.”

                                            > Chrysalis stands silently for a long while, her jaws chewing on the words she wants to say.

                                            “I… I understand.”

                                            > At that moment, the smithy’s doors opened once again.

                                            > “Allmother, blessed A-Allfather has requested your presence,” the previous assistant drone said.


                                            > Only a minute shift in temperature from the outside hallway to the confines of the hive smithy was felt, as the two queens stepped through the passageway.

                                            > Heavy curtains of wool with reflexive metal bands plates riveted onto their surfaces hung from the ceiling, separating the smithy into smaller segments, and acting as absorbents of the smithy’s massive amount of radiant heat.

                                            > There was a segment for the forge itself, a number of armour stands, heavily loaded tool shelves stretching across the walls, and for the heaps of raw materials.

                                            > Standing amidst various pieces of metal work and plating, was Anonymous, surrounded by three drones arranging and inspecting pieces of a prepared suit of armour.

                                            > His tunic of finely woven silk had been covered in a heavy padded gambeson and pants, fixed to his waist in a black leather belt. Both pieces of cloth were woven densely, with intermittent pieces of a polished metal sewn onto the upper chest and shoulders.

                                            > “Hi honey,” he said, waving a leather gloved hand back at them, the metal pieces clinking softly as they rocked back and forwards.

                                            > All three drones ceased their work, turning to bow deeply.

                                            > “Blessed Allmother,” one of them said, before raising her head, one glowing eye the usual blueish colouration. The other had a milky surface, accompanied with a discoloured scar going from the top of the eye socket down her cheek.

                                            “Hive smith Flux,” Chrysalis nodded, “I trust the requirements for the Allfather’s armour was met.”

                                            > Bowing her head again, the smith continued.

                                            > “Indeed, Allmother. Due to duels only lasting a few minutes, we decided to go for a thrice-layered design, with an altered Minotaurian style plating.”

                                            > Nodding along, as the smith explained, Chrysalis picked up a pauldron in her magic, studying the surface of the metal in the shine of the nearby braziers.

                                            “Please continue, Hive smith, indulge me in your designs.”

                                            > “As you wish. As Duels of change are short and vicious struggles, the more protective armour between the Allfather and the queens, the better. We decided on a gambeson quilted from heavy duty wool, and padded with manticore hair. It’s to help soften blows from hammers or bucking hooves.”

                                            > As she talked, one of the other two drones helped the human strap into a pair of greaves, before beginning on criss-crossing the ties of the similar leather vambraces.

                                            > Sparking her own horn alight, the smith grabbed a suit of near-sparkling metal rings interwoven into a byrnie. Holding up the clinking piece in a delicate grasp for the queens to inspect, the smith continued.

                                            > “Mesh made from mithril, as per your request, Allmother,” she explained, hefting the metal rings to the other assistant.

                                            > The drone turned, lifting the armour above the human’s shoulders, as he drew his arms through the sleeves. Draping the metal over his head, it quickly fell to the floor as gravity took hold of it.

                                            > Switching from simply observing, Albuna stalked over to stand besides Chrysalis, eyes wide in shock.

                                            > “You’re using mithril for a simple chain mail, and this amount of it?!” she hissed.

                                            > Chrysalis sat down the piece of black plating in her magical grasp, to shrug at the other queen’s outburst.

                                            “I would have ordered the production of a full plate set of it, if I had it. I will stop at nothing to ensure Anonymous’s safe return to me, Albuna. I thought I made myself clear earlier.”

                                            > Spluttering in disbelief, the young queen’s surprise overruled all resemblance of manners she might have had.

                                            > “Chrysalis, that’s the biggest chunk of the stuff I’ve ever seen - It rivals the Equestrians’ cache in the Crystal Empire vaults!”

                                            > None of the on looking drones shared her distraught sentiments, rather, they calmly continued looking over the strappings on the human’s leather armour.

                                            “No expense is too great,” she simply retorted. “None.”

                                            > Shaking her head in disbelief, the amber queen stood silently, her gazes catching on the black plating covering the entire surface of the work table besides them.

                                            > Lifting up an angular breastplate in her magic, Albuna studied the large piece of metal, as she hefted the metal’s weight around, levitating it up and down a few times. The front of the piece was inlaid with decorative silvery filigree, accentuating the edges.

                                            > “Chrysalis…” she started “Don’t tell me this is-”

                                            > Following the young queen’s sight, Chrysalis spied the source.

                                            “Behemoth chitin, but of course it is. We’ve practically got piles of the things lying around the hive, after every moulting cycle.”

                                            > “I am familiar with the material – my late mother herself had a piece lying around the royal armoury. But it’s so light, lighter than I’ve ever seen. Is this truly behemoth chitin?” she asked, turning the piece around.

                                            > Clearing her throat to denote her presence, Flux bowed respectfully, albeit with a shorter bow than with Chrysalis.

                                            > “Indeed, honourable Queen Albuna. This is the highest quality of shedding we can procure from the behemoth vanguard. We have taken no shortcuts in neither quality nor processing.”

                                            > The jungle queen’s brows furrowed, as her magic fizzled out, for her own hooves to grasp the piece instead.

                                            > “I am well familiar with chitin and its qualities above regular bronze, hive smith, I’m puzzled by the piece’s weight. It’s too light, behemoth chitin is dense.”

                                            > Only managing to open her mouth to retort, the hive smith was quickly interrupted.

                                            > “Save your breath, Flux. Queen, it’s because of my runes,” came a raspy drawl from one of the curtains.

                                            > With a whooshing sound, one of the towering walls of wool was drawn back, revealing a diamond dog just as imposing. Adding to the massive hounds bulk was her outfit. Clad in a blackened metalworking apron around her waist, a belt with a number of different chisels and hammers, and a heavy vest around her shoulder. The dog’s giant claws dropped from the curtain to rest across her chest.

                                            > Heaving a sigh, the charcoal-furred giant nodded to the Whole-born.”

                                            > “Matron.” she said plainly.

                                            “Melva,” Chrysalis replied, nodding back in greeting.

                                            > If Albuna was shocked to see an eleven hooves tall diamond dog female in the Badland Hive’s smithy, she did not show it.

                                            > Anonymous, on the other hand, handled it less gracefully.

                                            > “That’s a lot of ti-!” he exclaimed, before a jolting hoof in the side from Flux halted his surprise.

                                            > Cocking an eyebrow at the newcomer, Albuna leaned her head towards Chrysalis.

                                            > “I don’t believe we’ve met, care to introduce us, Chrysalis? I’ve never heard about a dog employed by a hive.”

                                            > Flourishing a hoof towards the diamond dog, the Whole-born turned, as if to include everyone in the room.

                                            “This is Melva Bronzepaw. Diamond dog, mistress runesmith and currently the only hired artisan in the Badlands Hive. Flux recommended bringing her in, for the task of etching the plating with runes.”

                                            > Albuna looked the massive dog up and down, but nonetheless extended a hoof in greeting.

                                            > “I am Albuna, hive queen of the Forbidden Jungle hive south of here. A pleasure, runesmith.”

                                            > Returning the gesture, the giant hound’s paw dwarfed the queen’s hoof, as it was shook none too gently.

                                            > “Pleasure’s all mine, queen,” the gruff diamond dog said, before hefting up a cracked piece of chitin to present. Despite the size and bulk of the plating, not even a grunt escaped her.

                                            > “This here thing cracked. Runes are mighty volatile, you see,” she said as she walked closer, pointing out a small line of deceptively intricate runes etched into the surface, using a single claw.

                                            > Stepping closer herself to inspect the dog’s craft, the jungle queen could see how the black polished surface of the chitin was indeed lined with a series of runes, each an extension of its predecessor.

                                            > The pathing of the runes continued its tangled path along the surface, before the final rune was stopped suddenly by a deep crack running through the entirety of the chitin.

                                            > “Sneezed the last second,” Melva admitted sheepishly. “Broke the rune weave, matrix done collapsed.”

                                            > Lumping the piece off to the side with a heave of muscle, the thunderous sound of it hitting the floor emanated through the smithy.

                                            > “Miss, forgive my ignorance, but what is the purpose of these runes if they are so fragile?” Anonymous piped up, a puzzled expression on his face, as he adjusted the gorget around his neck.

                                            > “’I said it‘s volatile, not fragile,” the dog corrected. Handing over a gauntlet of finished chitin to the human, she continued. “They are for making the plating bearable. Material’s heavy. Without runes, you’d be crushed under its weight.”

                                            > Listening raptly, Anonymous followed every word of the runesmith as she explained the intricacies of her craft, pointing out various etchings as she worked her way through it.

                                            > “And this one, a raido, is centrepiece of the matrix. If I mess this one up, like for the plackart, you might as well have a bomb strapped to your neck.”

                                            > Turning over the armoured glove from before, he ran his digits through the segmented coverings, studying the polished surface. Like the breastplate before, this one had a similar styling of silvery interlace hammered into it, accentuating its rim.

                                            > “Ease up on the explanation, Melva,” Flux said, before levitating over a chitin vambrace to put on top of its leathery cousin underneath. “No need to traumatise the Allfather for nothing.”

                                            > Scoffing at the interruption, the diamond dog relents, opting instead to bring over the remaining pieces of armour. None too few grumbles can be heard escaping her muzzle, of how her work goes unappreciated in this day and age.

                                            > Anonymous sat in silence, watching the smith correct the various straps and buckles. From the vambrace and upwards came the courter for his elbow joint, up to the rerebrace for his upper arm, before finally the pauldron was attached to a shoulder lash in the chain mail.

                                            > “Uhm… Flux, Melva was just kidding when she mentioned runes exploding, right?” he asked, a flicker of worry in his voice.

                                            > Blinking incredulously at the human’s question, Flux paused a moment before fastening the breastplate to his chest, before continuing with the plated faulds to protect his upper thighs.

                                            > “Runes are perfectly stable when the etching’s finished.”

                                            > Reaching with his yet unarmoured hand to boop the smith on the snoot, he pouts.

                                            > “I get the feeling you’re avoiding my question, Flux. And what was that about the behemoth chitin and mithril? If it’s so rare and precious, is it really proper for me to use it as armour?”

                                            > With his attention turned away, he did not notice how a gentle hoof slid close enough for it to rest beneath his chin, before guiding his eyes to look up at a gravely looking Chrysalis.

                                            “Anonymous, I am telling you this one time, and one time only. Do not care about the armour. Trust and have faith in the hive smith’s work, Melva’s runes and the hive’s resources. But never think we value these higher than we do you.”

                                            > Moving her hoof to instead grapple onto the top of his breastplate, she easily tugged him close enough to touch her nose to his.

                                            “This armour was made for one purpose, and one purpose only. To protect you from harm. If it serves that task, it’s more than worth its costs.”

                                            > Drawing up his hands to grasp the outside of her chitinous hoof, Anonymous looked into those deep emerald pools like he had so many times before. He saw the swirling worry reflected in them, as well as the yet still hopeful belief in him.

                                            > “Chrysalis, I can’t-“ he began, before the hoof again moved to still his lips. Chuckling softly, she lightly tapped his mouth as if admonishing him.

                                            “I said one time only. You are the love of my life, and the sole source of love in this hive. You volunteered to stand in my stead, both for my sake, as well as all of our kin. You will accept this armour, you will stand in that arena as the royal champion of the Badlands Hive and you will emerge victorious.” she finished, her voice barely raising above her everyday voice, seemingly so sure of herself.

                                            > The human slowly cast sideways glances around the room, a small blush appearing on his cheeks. Queen Albuna stood and watched them, nodding her head enthusiastically, grinning broadly. The ever-professional Nevar did not say anything either, but the specks of an earnest smile still played in the corners of her mouth.

                                            > Leaning up against one of the few solid walls of the smithy, Melva’s tools clicked lightly as they collided with the hard surface. Returning an honest smile and a clawed thumb up in encouragement herself, Anonymous’s eyes drew back to the centre of his life.

                                            > Scoffing softly at her insistent tapping, he turned his head slightly, to tap his right cheek with a finger.

                                            > “If you will it, Chrysalis, I shall do as you say. But only if I get my just reward.”

                                            > Raising a mocking eyebrow, the Whole-born looked at him with equals parts humour and mirth.

                                            “Oh I will it. And you shall get your just reward,” she said, leaning in, puckering her lips.

                                            > His eyes followed attentively as her head completed the small stretch of air between the two of them. Leaning closer still, Chrysalis closed her eyes.

                                            > Then, while her attention was adrift, Anonymous suddenly turned his head, to instead kiss her on the lips.

                                            > Whether from the surprise of his swift movement, the instant influx of love, or the earnestness of his lips, Chrysalis’ wings fluttered open to their full enchanting glory with an uncharacteristic buzzing sound. Her eyes shook wide open, as her midst flickered in its characteristic bioluminescent from the freely given food.

                                            > In spite of her startle, she did not move an inch away from it. Rather, she leaned more into the kiss. So much so, that the human started to learn backwards onto the table, with the Whole-born continuing the kiss without ceasing for a second.

                                            > Using his elbows to support the weight of himself, and a persistent Chrysalis now straddling his chest, a deep chuckle rocked him, threatening to spill into a heartfelt laughter.

                                            > Chrysalis was in no better shape herself.

                                            “As much as I enjoy this whimsy of yours,” she started, her voice trickling with levity, “we still need you in your greaves and poleyns.”

                                            > “So we do, Chryssi.”


                                            -------------------**-------------------


                                            > Standing in the darkened hallway, Anonymous fidgeted with one of his plated vambraces. It was not from a misfit of the piece – Flux’s skills would never have allowed for such an oversight; the armour fit him perfectly.

                                            > Rather, a gnawing sense of unease had settled in him, present throughout the whole morning.

                                            > Glancing up at the two attending behemoths, he was relieved to see the familiar visage of Caci, as she offered him a reassuring smile.

                                            > “Blessed Allfather,” she greeted, as if waiting for an order from him.

                                            “Good morning, Caci,” he said in return. “Awful pickle we find ourselves in.”

                                            > Nodding solemnly, the behemoth’s smile cracked to an sorrowful mask.

                                            > “I am sorry for this whole escapade, Allfather,” she said. “I should have volunteered sooner, spared you the ordeal,” she lamented, head drooping in shame.

                                            > Sighing, the human leaned back to crack an imaginary joint in his back, Anonymous leaned forwards.

                                            “Even you did, I would still have taken your place, Caci. You are all very dear to me.”

                                            > The mare did not say anything for a long while, chewing through her words. She simply resorted to nodding her massive head in a bow.

                                            > “You honour me, Allfather. Even still, may I offer some humble advice for your duel?”

                                            > Waving a hand outwards, Anonymous smiled brightly.

                                            “By all means.”

                                            > Taking a quick glance at the heavy oaken doors behind her, the behemoth turned again.

                                            > “You know your first foe is Queen Mentha, but you might not know the details of her kin. The Luna Bay hive are experts at subterfuge, intelligence gathering and concealment, their queen only more so.”

                                            > Taking in a tense breath, Caci continued.

                                            > “Be mindful of what you see and hear, or rather, what you do not, Allfather. Many a tale has been spun of ponies driven to exhaustion from her and her kin, fighting wisps and imaginary foes. Steel your heart of hearts, Allfather. They are an unnecessarily cruel hive, and delight in tiring their enemies before the final coup de grâce.”

                                            > Nodding to himself, Anonymous had stopped his fidgeting to instead listen to the mare’s words.

                                            “I will keep it in mind, thank you. Do you know of any signature weaknesses of this hive – something I can use to my advantage?”

                                            > Chuckling darkly to himself, the human shrugged his shoulders.

                                            “I mean, surely they won’t try and kill me.”

                                            > Caci stood silently, mulling over her thoughts.

                                            > “While our chitin protects us, I am sure you are well aware that there are some obvious weak points. “A blow to her horn,” she said, pointing to her own before moving her hoof to her neckline. “…A stab at the griff…” before setting down her hoof to instead brace her wings out, ”…Or a piercing a wing membrane is as debilitating to a pony, as they are to any changelings.”

                                            > The other behemoth nodded in joint agreement with her commanding officer, clacking her spear against one of forelegs.

                                            > “I’ve heard their chitin isn’t as hard as ours as well, Allfather”, the mare said, “They may be slippery and hit hard, but they can’t take a beating.”

                                            > Listening to her comrade’s words, Caci returned to look back down at the human in front of her.

                                            > “Similarly, as the challengee, it is your right to choose your armaments after the challenging queen’s made her own choice. I’d wager Mentha will be going for something purely offensive - consider your choices carefully in this respect.”

                                            > Raising a gauntlet to rest on his breastplate, Anonymous nodded graciously to the two mares.

                                            “Thank you both, I’ll take your words into careful considerations.

                                            > Before either of them could respond, a deep horn sounded, echoing through the halls with an almost haunting tone. Shortly following it, a roar from the crowd outside could be heard.

                                            > Opting to forego their own weaponry, the two behemoths alighted their horns as one, both heaving to pull on one of the two heavy bronze pulls fastened to the massive doors.

                                            > Immediately, the corridor was flooded in the warm light of the sun. Bowing his head to look down on himself, Anonymous could see how the polished shine of his blackened armour reflected the light, in its rich onyx colouration.

                                            > It’s silver decorations contrasted hard against its tar-black background, only elevating the grandeur of his equipment.

                                            > Taking a steadying breath, he nodded to both Caci and her sister, and walked into the arena.


                                            > The early morning sun bathed the entirety of the now repurposed Sanctuary in a warm light. On all sides, massive tribunes had been constructed and sat up, lining the entire plateau with heavy timber fencing.

                                            > Rows upon rows of seats had been placed in the typical staggered fashion, to ensure great visibility for all attendants.

                                            > The usual sails normally used to shield the Sanctuary from the harsh rays of the baking afternoon sun was instead hoisted off newly erected pillars. While they still provided coverage, a considerable gap in the lining between the top of the tribunes and the pillars allowed for sufficient flow to prevent the air inside from going stale.

                                            > The normally unblemished surface of Sanctuary had been covered in a thin layer of sand to help the contestants maintain their footing on the otherwise polished cover.

                                            > The usual table sat in its typical place, albeit now its contents of refreshments and crystal decanters had been replaced. An assortment of various weapons and armaments laid spread out across its entire length.

                                            > They were simple in their looks and designs, only offering the minimum of extravagance and decorations. Nonetheless, the sheer number and varieties of weapons was enough to give a small army a run for their bits.

                                            > On either side of the encircled fencing was a massive wooden gate, barred with three massive tarred logs. Despite the sudden notice for such an overwhelming construction, no expenses had been spared in any regarding the durability or design of its components.

                                            > Both the gates and the fencing were clad in polished bronze pieces, shining brightly in reflection of the still rising sun in their depictions of various sceneries and battles.

                                            > A substantial part of the eastern-most part of the tribunes had been set aside to make space for a lounge of more lush seating and pillows where Chrysalis and Albuna reclined, surrounded by attentive staff offering various plates of refreshments.

                                            > Levitating over a chalice to her lips, the Whole-born drank deeply, before none too gently returning her empty glass on the platter, for a new one. Her mouth was set in a hard thin line, as her eyes were locked on the southern gate, waiting.

                                            > A faint humming drummed at her ears, Chrysalis’s attention swiftly switched over to her seating partner.

                                            > “Are you nervous, Chrysalis?” Albuna asked, her voice indicative that she herself was feeling some of the same tenseness.

                                            > Biting back a venomous reply, the mare simply resorted to sighing loudly before nodding in confirmation. Mentally running over the numerous threats and spells the queens might use did little to squash her fears, only adding to her growing dread.

                                            “Lately, I’ve picked up eating whenever I’m nervous,” she said, casting a quick glance down her swollen midst and her mighty thighs.

                                            > Scoffing in mirth, she turned back to looking at the gate.

                                            “Anonymous says he doesn’t mind it, for some reason. Although, he became particularly fussy when I suggested he should stay in the hive and let a mare handle this. He kept going on and on about our kin.”

                                            > Holding up a hoof to laugh for herself, Albuna blew a short breath out her nose. “Oh how precious. Those stallions and their whimsy.” Glancing past Chrysalis, her eyes widened in recognition. “Speaking of…”

                                            > Noting the change in the queen’s voice, Chrysalis looked over to see overseer Matabele making his way towards them. His stature towered over both the other changelings, whether sitting or standing, making his passage easy and unhindered.

                                            > Quickly bowing before his queen and the attending guest, Matabele made to sit beside Chrysalis’ lying form. Accepting an offered chalice of his own, he lifted the cup to his muzzle, without drinking.

                                            > “My queen, we have a… concern,” he said, holding the chalice for a moment, as if simply enjoying the beverage.

                                            > Chrysalis, to her credit, showed little reaction to the overseer’s words. Lifting her chalice to drink, she softly spoke.

                                            “Remember our other guests,” she stressed. “What is it?”

                                            > Glancing up from his glass, across the arena from where they were seated, Matebele could easily see the forms of both Buddleia and Noctuid, lazing about on their own seating. As if feeling his eyes on them, Noctuid raised a chalice towards them in a mocking toast.

                                            > Neither of two moved in turn.

                                            > Pausing for a few moments, the stallion raised his cup again.

                                            > “Can they read lips?” he asked.

                                            “Undoubtedly”, she said, having raised her own glass as well, with a mild look of disinterest on her facade. Meanwhile, her mind was racing. They could not speak at length using their glasses; it would only grow further suspicions. The hive mind could be used to some extent, but only for the most basic of communications and messages.

                                            > If a scheme was put in motion, vital details could be lost.

                                            > Matabele said nothing for a while, casually observing the crowds surrounding him with an aloft interest and a jovial expression.

                                            > Sensing his need for urgency, Chrysalis snorted softly in barely suppressed frustration. They could not leave the arena so close to the first fight. Whatever Matabele had to report, it involved the other queens.

                                            > Clearing her throat audibly, Chrysalis turned to regard one of the attending servants. Seeing his queen’s lightly raised brow, the young servant picked up on her cue, and headed towards her with a platter stocked full of chalices and snacks.

                                            > As the drone worked his way closer, Chrysalis nodded towards Matabele.

                                            “The Overseer has a request for his choice of refreshment, please see to it.”

                                            > Obediently turning with a questioning expression on his façade, the servant had stopped to stand directly in front of Matabele, shielding him from curious eyes directly behind the attendant.

                                            > Smiling pleasantly at the drone, Matabele bent forward to study the offered disc

                                            > “Someone has broken into my office, bypassing the three locks and the two magical snitches I put in place,” he said, with a mellow expression, his voice kept low and in check, as he turned over a piece of toast with love honey smeared on. “They’ve read through my notes on the king.”

                                            > Chrysalis face contorted for a moment in shock before returning to her usual looks. But still her voice was kept even, as her eyes kept a close look on the adjacent queens.

                                            “Oh, how delightful, Matabele,” she said. “Everything?” she asked, idly swishing about her glass as its contents swirled in her magical grasp.

                                            > Pursing his mouth in fake contemplation, Matabele put down another piece of toast, much to the grievance of the increasingly flustered drone.

                                            > “I cannot say, it’s possible. They might know of-“

                                            > A massive horn thundered across the arena, drowning out the overseer’s words, signalling the official beginning of the Duel’s ceremony.

                                            > Finally picking out a piece of food, Matabele turned to look at Chrysalis with an inquiring brow raised.

                                            > Chrysalis sat still for a moment, her face unreadable, before she lightly shook her head. She could not stop things, not now. Nothing could be done to stop what was to come.

                                            > Standing to her full height, Chrysalis rose to look above the heads of her subjects, as they all turned towards the southern gate.

                                            > Walking into the light with a calm and measured stride was Anonymous. However much it pained her for him to be down there, her heart still swelled with marely pride.

                                            > Decked out in his full suit of armour, her love looked both beautiful and majestic, as he strode on. Out in the light, the full splendour of his protective plates shone like alight. All but a fraction of the perfect luster his love always burned with.

                                            > The initial clapping of their faithful subjects grew to a deafening roar, as the tribunes caught sight of him.

                                            > Shifting her sights to the other side of the arena, Queen Mentha could be seen skulking through the doors, her own armour a far cry from her opponent’s costly collection.

                                            > A simple vestment of hardened basilisk hide covered her chest and shoulders, with a set of black manticore leather braces and greaves to protect her extremities.

                                            > Snorting in delight, Chrysalis’s chest puffed in pride. An occasional brandishing of her hive’s riches and the sheer power she could wield was always welcome.

                                            > To speak nothing of the reactions. She could practically *taste* the jealousy coming off in spades from the other side of the arena. Buddleia looked about ready to snap her glass in half, while Noctuid’s left eye had adopted an annoyed twitching.

                                            > Clapping politely, the overseer leaned in.

                                            > “Vain to a fault, my queen,” he said, chuckling in light disbelief.

                                            “So it would seem, dear Matabele.”

                                            > Watching the two lonesome inhabitants of the arena finally make their way into the centre of the field of battle, both turned towards the long table.

                                            > Stepping forwards, Mentha quickly scoured the various weapons, before picking up a long thin qullion dagger, along with a shorter, stubbier, swordbreaker. Levitating both up in her sapphire blue magic, she deftly spun both of them in rapid pirouettes.

                                            > Anonymous, on his part, ignored her antics, and stepped forwards himself. Looking over the assortment, he paused shortly, before picking up a solid kite shield, and a short sword. Strapping the shield brace to his arm, he put on his helmet, lowering the visor so only a miniscule gap was open for him to look through.

                                            > Turning away from the table again, both the human and the queen strode to stand at their respective markings in the sand. As they reached their destinations, a silence washed over the arena, as the shouts and claps calmed.

                                            > When all was still, Albuna stepped forwards, taking in a deep breath, as she cast a glancing look across the audience.

                                            > “We are gathered here to settle a matter of great importance. The first of three duels, from the Luna Bay hive, the Manehatten hive, and the Hollow Shades hive, to the Badlands hive.”

                                            > Bowing her head to regard the two contestants, she continued.

                                            > “Representing the Badlands hive, Allfather Anonymous the human, on behalf of Whole-born Queen Chrysalis. Anonymous, I ask you, are you here on your own volition, by your own free will, and from your own desires?”

                                            > Raising his sword in greeting, the human’s voice echoed in the arena.

                                            > “Yes, Queen Albuna.”

                                            > Seemingly happy with his reply, the amber queen pressed on.

                                            “Likewise, representing the Luna Bay hive, Queen Mentha, on her own behalf. I ask you, Mentha, are you here on your own volition, by your own free will, and from your own desires?”

                                            > Unnoticeable to most of the onlookers, the petite queen paused for the briefest of moments, before she nodded.

                                            > “Yes, Queen Albuna.”

                                            > Bowing her head in acceptance, Albuna turned to regard the whole audience once again.

                                            > “By the powers and responsibilities of this Duel of Change bestowed upon me, I, Queen Albuna of the Southern Jungle hive declare this feud valid. May love shine upon you both.”

                                            > Immediately, her horn was ablaze in a deep amber, almost honey-like colour. Nothing happened for a few seconds, as the spell charged up to a crescendo. A small bubble of orange energy appeared in the centre of Sanctuary.

                                            > Growing slowly in size, from the size of an apple to that of a melon, it suddenly exploded outwards. A faintly amber sheen started engulfing the whole arena, as the sun reflected the semi-circular shape of the duel’s shield.

                                            > “You may begin,” Albuna said.

                                            > Raising his shield in a protective stance, with his sword jutting to the side, Anonymous tensed as he waited with bated breath, anxiously waiting for queen Mentha to make the first move.

                                            > Mentha, on her part, stood relaxed, an almost bored expression on her face. Still, her weapons had never stopped their insistent rotation, emanating with a low humming.

                                            > Cautiously observing his opponent, Anonymous readjusted his grip of his sword, tilting his helmet slightly upwards, to look past his adversary. By now, Albuna’s spell had reached all the way to the ground, encasing them in this temporary holding.

                                            > On the other side of the magic shell, he could see the faces of all the faithful changelings of the Badlands Hive. All of them silent, everyone of the-

                                            > “Looking for your holeless broodmare, son of iron?” the raspy voice of Mentha taunted, across the arena.

                                            > Returning his sights to her, Anonymous slacked his shoulders slightly, a light chuckle passing his lips, as he drew small circles in the air with the tip of his sword.

                                            “By no means, Mentha. I’m merely wondering if Albuna’s shield will stand up to my attempts of punting you through it,” he said.

                                            > An uncharacteristically soft smile danced at her lips.

                                            > “You have retained a sense of humour, even in a setting as hopeless as this. How refreshingly quaint,” she said.

                                            > Stilling his tongue from returning her remarks, Anonymous raised his shield at the ready again, slowly advancing on her. If she would not make the first move, he would try and make it the last.

                                            > Warily making his way across the arena, Mentha merely stood still, opting to observe him.

                                            > “Do you think that bitch’s runes will protect you from this ordeal?” Mentha’s voice rang through his helmet.

                                            > Only, not a word had passed by her lips, remaining as still as the grave. The voice had rung from his back right, as clear as if she had talked in his ear.

                                            > Twisting his upper body, Anonymous turned violently as he swung his blade, cutting through the now apparently empty air behind him.

                                            > Realising his mistake, he braked his arm’s path through the air, trying to raise his shield in time to block an anticipated attack.

                                            > A massive blow rocked his left arm, as a loud metallic clang rang through his being, as Mentha’s dagger impacted with the hardened rim of his shield.

                                            > His momentary relief of managing to predict the attack was cut painfully short, as a pale blue rear hoof was propelled into the left side of his breastplate. Hearing as much as feeling his plate armour creaking beneath the mighty force, the air was knocked out of his lungs as he was sent tumbling like a ragdoll.

                                            > A loud collective gasp flushed through the on looking spectators, as the Allfather slowly came to a stop beside the arena’s shield.

                                            > Coughing violently, Anonymous slowly braced with his arms against the ground, rising back to a staggered posture. Carefully touching his hand to his side, he inadvertently winced as his fingers traced the contours of a distinctly circular-shaped dent.

                                            > Still, the plates and mail had held up, leaving his ribs only bruised from the sudden brutality. A ‘cruel hive’ indeed, he mused.

                                            > Rolling his shoulders to get an idea of the extent of the damage, he found that he still had his full degree of movement, besides the insistent pain in his ribs.

                                            > Through sheer luck, he had managed to hold onto his sword throughout his momentary flight, while the brace on his left arm had kept the shield from flying out of his grasp.

                                            > “Tired already, Allfather?” The mocking drawl came from the cold queen, as she slowly started approaching, daggers swirling in bombastic sways.

                                            > “Your selfless action will be in vain,” her wispy voice came again, this time from his back. Anonymous did not move a muscle, instead taking a few steps himself to meet the impending ruler.

                                            > Another glint of a smirk played on her face seeing his movement, as she stopped a couple of lengths from him, cocking her head slightly to the side, as she studied him.

                                            > “Changelings can never know true love, and you know this.”

                                            > This time, the voice flew from the right.

                                            > “You fight for a lost cause. Chrysalis has faced defeat before, and she will again.” This time, the left side.

                                            > Still, Anonymous continued unabated. By this point, he would only have to lunge forward to meet her daggers, so close that he could almo-.

                                            > “I do not love you.” This time, the sound passed Mentha’s lips, forming the words. And yet, it was not her own voice. Rather, clear as day, the voice of his love had thrilled through the air with its characteristic intonation and soft vibrato.

                                            > In spite of the casual delivery, the words pierced through his concentration, tearing holes in his steadfast focus as his left foot stumbled for a second.

                                            > Quick as a whip and sensing his momentary hesitation, Mentha snapped into action and dived beneath his shield, her daggers following suit dutifully. A duet of metallic screeches echoed through the arena, as the blades danced across his chest, digging deep furrows into the surface.

                                            > Anonymous rapidly stepped backwards to create more distance between them, the ever elusive queen dancing around his blade without as much as a scratch, following close behind.

                                            > “A brave façade, Allfather. Pity its frailty,” Mentha said smiling gleefully, continuing to weave amidst his strikes. All the while, the daggers continued their ceaseless shrieks, as his arms, shoulders and chest were struck repeatedly.

                                            > The armour held fast – the strikes were superficial at best. Even still, it was a harrowing scene to witness, as each flurry of sharp metal threatened to be the next to pierce through the rapidly deteriorating plates.

                                            > Swinging both his sword and shield to try and deflect, Anonymous found himself unable to  keep track of the two daggers, as well as the queen’s flurry of steps back and forwards.

                                            > He was losing ground, again, and a trail of panic was starting to seep in. Both Chrysalis and Flux had guaranteed the armour’s strength, but even so, all things had their limits.

                                            > Risking his luck, the human rushed forward, driving his sword in a sideways strike. Mentha’s swordbreaker easily caught it in its path, halting its travel. Twisting the dagger in her magical grasp, Anonymous’s wrist strained to maintain his grasp.

                                            > Smiling triumphantly, Mentha face took on an almost Cheshire-cat like quality as her face turned to him. “So easily flustered, the mind of a stal-“

                                            > Whatever words the queen had meant to mock him with was abruptly ceased as the broad side of his shield collided with her face in a clumsy haymaker.

                                            > Her face was thrown to the side from the punch, the strength of her incantations on the daggers waivered, spluttering. Just long enough for Anonymous to draw back his sword.

                                            > Bracing with his feet, he tore the sword upwards, aiming for a downwards strike against the queen’s midst.

                                            > Mentha, despite the brawn of the prior hit, regained her senses quicker. A flicker of panic crossed her eyes, before her horn flared brightly.

                                            > Tossing her head forwards, the thinner dagger was hurled at his face at point-blank.

                                            > Anonymous barely had time to blink, before an echoing metallic “thunk” rocked his ears.

                                            > The blade hit the edge of his visor with enough force to rock his head back. An uproar of gasps and shouts echoed from the tribunes, adding to the still ringing noise in his ears. The delicate sound of a crystal chalice being crushed sounded from Chrysalis’ tribune.

                                            > Anonymous staggered backwards, the sword dropping from his hand as he fumbled at the handle of the now thoroughly stuck weapon.

                                            > Meanwhile, Mentha wiped a hoof across her muzzle, a trail of blood smeared across her chitin. Scoffing in annoyance, she looked at the human still struggling with the pound of deadweight jutting outwards from his face.

                                            > Seemingly resigning himself, the king instead opted for a change of tactic. Hooking his glove beneath his chin, he loosened the strap and dragged the protective helmet and dagger off himself.

                                            > Dropping the now useless hunk of armour to the ground, he mimicked the queen’s movements himself, surveying the damage done as best he could.

                                            > A thin continuous stream of crimson blood ran down the side of his face, from where the blade had connected with the top of his brow.

                                            > Wincing slightly as his clumsy gauntlet probed a bit too hard at the wound, Anonymous glanced around him, before finally spotting his sword once more.

                                            “You talk too much, Mentha,” he said, grasping the handle of his sword. Noting the lack of a whiplash answer, Anonymous eyes travelled from the point of his weapon, towards his now standing opponent.

                                            > Getting back on her hooves, the sapphire queen took a few steps, her horn spluttering more distraughtly than before. Whereas before, the spinning sound of her blades would have made a continuous whistle, the solitary swordbreaker now maintained a humble pose jutting upwards, slightly to the side.

                                            > Fixing him with a glare, Mentha cocked her head to the side, spitting out a mass of blood. A nasty bruise clad her face, the impact of his strike casting a fine web of cracks in the chitin.

                                            > Resorting to refrain from humouring her foe’s retort, her shoulders instead sagged. Looking down at her dagger still jutting out the side of the chitinous helmet, her magic flared.

                                            > A few scant traces of ethereal sparks glanced across the pommel, trying to get a firm grasp of the oiled grip. However, after tugging it a few feet with the helmet dutifully following suit, the magic fizzled out and she ceased her attempts.

                                            > Anonymous began striding towards her, seemingly content with having let her try to at least regain her former armaments. Mentha stood unmoving, her blade held still by her side.

                                            > Raising his sword for another strike, the man’s sight was drawn in yet again by her eyes. A look of disdain, anger and malice shone back at him.

                                            > Reaching the peak of his lunge, Anonymous halted his blade in preparation to bring it down. A toothy smile peeked out the side of her cracked lips and her horn flared yet again.

                                            > Then, beneath the flowing sails of the arena, amidst all sorts of changelings from commoners to queens, Mentha vanished off the face of Sanctuary.

                                            > A cacophony of cries and shouts erupted from across the podium.

                                            > Anonymous turned his head, bracing with his shield, listening intently for the smallest breath of air waving, the crunch of the sand or even the constant vibration from magic.

                                            > “Tell me, Allfather,” the voice of Mentha cut through the noise, and as always, it was impossible to place. “Have you ever heard the epic of the Soothsayer of Anapnoi?”

                                            > Furrowing his brows in confusion, Anonymous shuffled back towards the centre of the arena.

                                            “I have not – indulge me.”

                                            > A cackle echoed off the walls, before a pleased hum tickled his ears and a tongue flicked his earlobe. He shuddered, tearing his sword and shield in a pirouette around himself, looking for where she could be.

                                            > Nothing.

                                            > “Rather, it’s a tragic story of ignorance and superstition. Of desperation,” Mentha continued unabated.

                                            > “The ponies of ancient Equus travelled from the farthest reaches to listen to the soothsayer of Anapnoi, Ephenae the Gentle’s words,” she said. “A young stallion, barely above foalhood. A colt of no tricks, or so the ravings of mares declared.”

                                            > Anonymous turned again, swinging his sword in a wide arc, constantly trying to grasp the source of the voice.

                                            > A hoof collided with his left side again, throwing him to the ground. The mocking chidings of Mentha accompanied him, as he quickly rose to his feet.

                                            > “It is said that the Ephenae shared breath with Father Equus - most likely, he breathed from the fumes of a nearby volcanic site to get his revelations. He lived a life of celibacy, denying all proposals of mares and shunned the intimacy of a lover.”

                                            > A hopeful sigh sounded to the left of him.

                                            > “Despite his young and impressionable age, Ephenae never spoke a lie, only what he saw revealed in all its misery and sadness. The ponies begged him to grant a whisper of his knowledge and insight. And with poise, he imparted his visions of foresight.”

                                            > Out of nowhere, a hoof connected with the Anonymous’ gauntlet, the force of it making him lose grip of his blade. Before he could pick it back up, it started levitating off the ground before flying across the field, impaling the wooden gates to the hilt.

                                            > “But alas, poor Ephenae would come to learn that the hoof of fate is more fickle than he would like.”

                                            > Mentha’s sword breaker popped into existence on the inside of his shield. Cutting through the toughened straps in the brace effortlessly, Anonymous was left with a woefully inadequate handle to manoeuvre the large piece of chitin.

                                            > “For ponies soon grew angry. Angry with their lot in life. Angry at their misery. But most of all, angry of the young oracle proclaiming this sorrow, thinking that he somehow influenced the whimsical threads of fate.”

                                            > Now whirling towards his face, the man had to let go of his shield to escape the path of the sharp blade. And just as quickly, his shield was seized and thrown to lie next to his sword.

                                            “Enough tricks and old legends, Mentha. Face me,” Anonymous said angrily through grit teeth. “Your story does little to enrapture me.”

                                            > No voice returned to answer him, before a swift kick to the back of his knee forced him down. Following up before he could get his bearing, another strike to his side knocked the air out of his lungs.

                                            > Bracing himself with his hand against the dirt, Anonymous only caught a glimpse of the pommel of Mentha’s sword breaker before it hit his cheek bone.

                                            > The human hit the ground flat with a grunt of pain, his eyes misting in the hard glances of sun occasionally tearing down through the covers overhead.

                                            > “Oh but my story does hold a message, dearest Allfather,” Mentha said, once again appearing in the flesh before him, smiling triumphantly once again.

                                            > Straddling his belly, she placed one hoof against the ridge of his breastplate and leaned down.

                                            > “Because Ephenae did not know his place, stayed silent and obedient as a good stallion should. He could have told the ponies around him what they wanted to hear, but he did not. Truthful to a fault. And for that, he was thrown into the volcano. He died, of course. Who knows, perhaps he had even foreseen it.”

                                            > Hammering the pommel into his bruised side, Anonymous did not give her the pleasure of whimpering from the torment.

                                            > Instead, he tried futilely to lift his arm to grapple at the smug lips of the queen above him. Mentha quickly knocked his hands away before stomping on his wrists with one of her hoofs, fixing his arms in a hold above his head.

                                            > “The point of my story, of Ephenae’s failure, is a poem, dearest Allfather.” She said, over the sound of his creaking gauntlets. For a brief moment, a shade of glee passed over her eyes. She was enjoying this to the fullest extent.

                                            > Pausing his struggles, Anonymous muttered, choking on his breath.

                                            “A-A poem?” he gasped.

                                            > “Yes, Allfather. A short ballad of the proper place of all stallions.”

                                            > Leaning down, her lips caressed his bruised cheek none too gently.

                                            > “O’ soothsayer, let these words set you free.

                                            > Soothsayer, all that is, none can see.

                                            > Soothsayer, all that will, let it be,” she finished, making a show of drawing the dagger away from his side.

                                            > Letting the blade spin once again, it stopped, having the blade face inwards. Anonymous could see his eyes reflected in the now dusty metal sheen, before just as snappy, the blade dove down at his side.

                                            > Holding his breath in his bruised chest in barely withheld anxiety, the sound of the plates cracking – no, breaking away, from the impact was heard across the arena. It was not difficult to guess at the sorry state of his chest plate or what was left of it.

                                            > Slowly, the blade heaved up, and paused again.

                                            > “All of this, Anonymous,” Mentha started, cocking her head sideways indicating the place of their fight, “can be over. All you have to do is yield. Surrender to the might of a hive queen and your worries will be over. Ephenae did not halt in the face of certain death. Please do not repeat his mistake.”

                                            > A mix of a chuckle and a violent cough caught the human, rocking his frame as his ribs protested.

                                            > Observing him calmly, Mentha raised a brow before tapping her hoof on the top of his breastplate impatiently, her blade dancing from side to side.

                                            > “Your answer, Allfather Anonymous.” she repeated. “Will you yield, or will you continue this tirade and ultimately meet the same fate as those before you?”

                                            > Ceasing his mirth, the Allfather laid his head to rest on the ground beneath him, seemingly content with his situation.

                                            “You still talk too much, Mentha,” he breathed.

                                            > Queen Mentha, on her part, did not reply. Rather, another pang of anger flashed in her eyes at the audacity presented to her. How dare this creature, this stallion, oppose her and not bend the knee. How could he still refuse her offers of ceasing this façade.

                                            > She grit her teeth, before driving the blade down into his exposed side, fuelled by her frustrations and the hurt of her own wounds.

                                            > The sword breaker described a delicate crescent, before hitting the centre of its mark.

                                            > The strenuous and piercing sound of the blade breaking shock the arena. The collision between Anonymous’ mithril mesh byrnie and the by now worn down sword breaker was forceful enough to break off the first two thirds of one side of the weapon.

                                            > Pulling the handle upwards, Mentha turned her head to stare in bewilderment at the sorely ruined dagger.

                                            > In that moment, at the peak of the queen’s confusion and moment of hesitation, Anonymous sprung into action. Bucking his hips forcefully, her front hoof’s pillar of support was shifted into an awkward balance.

                                            > Pulling his elbows hard, the smooth friction of his gauntlets let him easily slip away from Mentha’s hold of him. Tipping over from the removal of her bracing, Mentha found a pair of armoured gauntlets slip across her shoulder and neckline.

                                            > And they tugged downwards without care nor grace.

                                            > Her field of view was momentarily shaken to its foundation as she found herself gripped in an all-encompassing feeling of disorientation as she was all but thrown to the floor. Coming to her senses again, she found herself with Anonymous now sitting across her chest, leaning across her form.

                                            > His knees pinned down her front hooves, while the armoured side of one of his gauntlets pressed none too gently down on her oesophagus. Meanwhile, the other glove held her horn in an unyielding grip.

                                            > Breathing heavily, one of them from the exertion, the other from shock, the two of them shared a moment where none of them said anything.

                                            > Squeezing down his hand on the curved horn, Anonymous watched as the already fickle grip of magic flickered out around the remnants of the sword breaker. Mentha growled in frustration, her eyes darting between the human, his hand on her horn, and the disenchanted blade on the ground.

                                            > The silence in the arena was palpable, no one daring to say anything. Anonymous was the first to speak amidst the calm.

                                            > His breathless tone of voice was even and collected, each word nothing but a simple stating of the proceedings following their conversation.

                                            “I will now accept your unconditional surrender, Queen Mentha of the Luna Bay Hive,” Anonymous said calmly. “You will yield your claims, and acknowledge Whole-born Queen Chrysalis’ right to remain my sole love,” he continued, easing the pressure of his forearm across the queen’s neck to let her reply.

                                            > Hissing in fury, the frigid queen’s spittle flew from her lips in rage, her hooves pawing feebly at the air, trying to free herself. Her wings tried to free themselves from her back, all for nought from the incapacitating weight of the human on top of her.

                                            > “If you think I will *ever* yield to the likes of a holeless wre-“, her tirades were cut short as Anonymous tightened the grip on her horn, the sound of the chitin creaking eerily. Sparkles of errant mana danced across the back of his fist and a light magical smoke rose from the surface.

                                            > “NOT THE HORN NOT THE HORN NOT THE HORN!” she shrieked, panic filling her eyes as she tried futilely to squirm her way out of her predicament.

                                            “I will not ask again, Mentha,” Anonymous continued, unabated.

                                            > Gritting her teeth in pain and frustration, the queen finally relented.

                                            > “I… I yield,” Queen Mentha said.

                                            > The moment her words rang out, a finely woven spider web of cracks formed in the shield’s surface, rapidly expanding from the top. As the web grew, the cracks turned wider and deeper, before they eventually reached the dirt.

                                            > The roar of triumphant cheers echoed from the tribunes, as the protective cover faded out of existence.

                                            > Breathing a sigh of relief, Anonymous slowly let go of his grip on the defeated queen. Traces of spent mana and soot covered the palm of his gauntlet, slowly spreading in the wind as he came to a shacking stand.

                                            > The man looked upon the roaring crowd as they covered him in their praise. Waving a single hand in return, the shouting only grew louder, the clapping hooves more feverish.

                                            > Turning on the spot, he looked up see the royal seatings, where an enthusiastically jumping and shouting Albuna stood besides a passionately clapping Chrysalis. Traces of errant tears shimmering in the flickering sails above.

                                            > Returning a smile in gratitude, Anonymous turned slightly to return his salute to the rest of the mass of spectators.

                                            > Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted what appeared to a very disgruntled Noctuid. Whereas the silver queen took the turn of events stoically, Buddleia looked as if she had found a bushel of lemons to chew.

                                            -------------------**-------------------

                                            > The feeling of seeing both Anonymous bask in the applause of the arena and the sight of the two fuming queens across the field brought a great joy to Chrysalis’ heart of hearts.

                                            > Whilst Noctuid did sport a poker face in a league of its own, the tell-tale flood of scorching fury was as clear to the whole-born as the still smoking scarring upon Mentha’s curved horn.

                                            > Wincing internally, she mused it would take a great deal of time and ambrosia to heal those scars. Perhaps this situation could exploit-

                                            > “Can we go see him now - pleeeeeease?” an excited Albuna pleaded, hooves tugging at Chrysalis’ own, her griff fluttering and eyes glimmering with fervour.

                                            > Whilst her professional demeanour at the start of the fight had been nothing but exemplary, this persona had been quickly forgotten over the course of the skirmish.

                                            > Laughing softly, Chrysalis relented with a nod. The infectious energy was already seeping into her frayed nerves still firing in her head. Against the greatest of odds, Anonymous had done something few could claim to have done before him.

                                            > Just the notion of a mortal being defeating a hive queen in an honest duel without the aid of third parties was… admirable to say the least.

                                            > A warm fuzzy feeling spread outwards from her heart of hearts, and an involuntary purr escaped her lips.

                                            > Rising from her seat, Chrysalis caught the sight of Nevar still sitting by her side. The royal secretary was combing through her notes with a puzzled look, seemingly reaffirming her confusion.

                                            “Something the matter, Nevar?”, she asked.

                                            > Dutifully, the drone shook her head. “No, my queen, it’s nothing,” she said, resigning herself to pack her things and standing at attention. “I just seem to have misplaced some papers – I’ll find them in my packs later.”

                                            > Nodding solemnly, Chrysalis looked to Matabele with an expectant look.

                                            > “I’m heading off to the smithy with my supplies for the Allfather. I’ll meet you there,” he said.

                                            > Thanking him, Chrysalis took off herself, closely followed by a wide-grinning amber queen.

                                            > Through the continued praise from the crows and having turned his back to them shortly, Anonymous did not hear the humming of their wings.

                                            > They touched the ground a short distance away, tucking their ethereal wings in again. Staying back at a polite distance, her two companions waited for the whole-born to greet her mate.

                                            > Behind them again, Caci and her sister opened up the heavy gates into the arena and led a veritable army of armed pheidoles behind them, keeping a watchful eye on the rafters and most notably, the prone queen in the midst of the stage.

                                            > Mirroring the actions of their sisters, another pair of behemoths opened the second gate, only this time instead of a unit of pheidoles, it was a company of nurselings carrying heavy bags of equipment, supplies and stretchers.

                                            > Alerted by the noise of the many steps behind him, Anonymous barely caught Chrysalis’ eyes before he was swarmed and all but drowned beneath the horde of prodding nurselings frantically bombarding him with questions on where he hurt.

                                            > Any attempts of soothing the frenzied lot from the human was pointedly ignored. At least she was not the only one caring about his health at the time, Chrysalis mused.

                                            > Half a minute of multiple diagnoses later, Anonymous gratefully accepted a quick bandage for his brow and a wrapped ice bag for his still throbbing cheek bone, before rejecting the offer to be carried out on a stretcher – much to the nurses’ chagrin.

                                            > Thankfully rejecting the medical team’s further proposals for a medical evac, they instead turned their full attention to the lurid Mentha lying a short breadth away.

                                            > Watching silently, Anonymous stood and watched them unfold their supplies and dive-bomb the poor royal. Opening their saddlebags, the nurses took cool ice bags and placed them on top of the soot-covered horn, bandaging scratches and bruises, and cutting away the now redundant armour off her frame.

                                            > A brace was wrapped around both her neck and horn, to prevent her from possibly hurting the fragile appendage.

                                            > “I think the nurses might be a bit biased.” Anonymous said out loud to no one in particular. “Between Mentha and me, I am the one still standing.”

                                            > Not even sparring a second to look over her fellow queen, Chrysalis snorted and stepped closer.

                                            “I care little for my nurselings bias of treatment, in fact, I expect nothing less,” she said standing next to him. “I am just happy you are okay,” she said, enveloping him in a tight hug.

                                            > Returning the hug with one of his own, the armour groaning slightly as the plates hitched into one another as he raised his arm.

                                            > Chrysalis could easily make out his hesitation in his movements and the stiff hold across her neckline – especially on his left arm. Carefully, he returned the hug with one of his own.

                                            > Slowly releasing her hold of him, her eyes glided down his stature, frowning and tsking at the state of her beloved and the remains of his plating. They would have to return to the smithy before they could get a complete view of his wounds.

                                            > “I’m sorry for the armour – I don’t think I can return it,” he said, noticing her eyes as he wiped a few stray marks of dirt off his pauldron.

                                            > Chrysalis scoffed with a smirk.

                                            “Altruistic to a fault, Anonymous dearest. I do not care about something as simple as this,” she said, voice laden with laughter. “You are here and better off than should you have been without it.”

                                            “Besides”, Chrysalis smirked, “it is not I who will grieve this damage, but rath-“

                                            > “MY RUNES!” a howl erupted from the entrance of the arena. A ruckus erupted from the gates as a distraught-looking Melva appeared in the entrance.

                                            > Toppling over any poor changelings unfortunate enough to stand between her and the remains of her work, she strode into the arena in a flurry of oaths and curses. Despite her fearsome bulk, the diamond dog looked more like a kicked puppy from the sorry sight of her work.

                                            > Tools clinking as she came to a sharp halt beside the human, she took a calming breath before none too gently lifting Anonymous’ left arm to inspect the now wrecked breastplate, her scrutinising eyes coming to the same conclusion as its owner had just a few seconds prior. It was irreparable.

                                            > A soft hiss escaped him as his bruised ribs strained to follow the movement that her limb dictated, as a giant paw came down on his shoulder, his knees nearly buckling under the unexpected weight.

                                            > “Anonymous…”, she started with a raspy snarl. “My runes…”

                                            > A hoof shot up trying to hide Albuna’s chuckles, seeing the consort’s flabbergasted expression at the towering bulk of this new and unexpected adversary,

                                            > “I-, Uh-, Melva I-“, Anonymous spluttered as he tried shimmying away from the terrifying hound. However, the smith’s grip on him was as unyielding as the very foundation they stood on.

                                            > Figuring her human had suffered enough for now, Chrysalis’ horn sparked to life and eased the rune smith’s paw off her beloved.

                                            “I think your point has been made, Melva. While greatly appreciative of your work, we will work to make a more suitable strategy for the next fight,” She said evenly, trying to disarm the rightful anger of the scorned hound.

                                            > Tearing her furious eyes off the poor Anonymous, it was now Melva’s turn to splutter.

                                            > “S-Suitable?! I bloody well hope whatever *suitable* plans you come up with doesn’t involve sacrificing days’ work for some *minuscule* chance of succeeding!” she thundered.

                                            > Grabbing onto the collar of Anonymous’ breastplate with a paw, the human was all but dragged like a doll into an unsteady angle for the diamond dog to point out a specific rune set on the side of the plate, near his hips.

                                            > A sharp tear had been torn from the sizable hole into the chitin from the impact with the sword breaker, cleaving the intricate rune in two.

                                            > “This thing alone took me three painstaking hours!” Melva growled, before effortlessly righting the human into a standing position again. She still kept a tight grasp of the armour, though.

                                            > Angrily, she pointed an accusing digit at his helmet left in the sand; the long dagger still left jutting upwards.

                                            > “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to scribe runes on plating that small, with paws like these?! Holding back like that…” the mountainous she-dog said, flexing a paw with her palm upwards. Meanwhile, her other paw had begun tightening its grip on Anonymous’ collar.

                                            > Under the might of the hound’s anger, a ghastly creaking had begun sounding, as the chitin was bent. Anonymous’ nervous eyes went from the manhandling canine, to the leftovers of his rapidly deteriorating protective equipment.

                                            > The man’s arm carefully moved up to start tapping on the diamond dog’s wrist trying to signal to her. Melva, of course, ignored him as she bore her sights into Chrysalis. The hive queen’s disarming demeanour melted away at the animosity.

                                            “I acknowledge your… dissatisfaction with the events that have passed,” Chrysalis began, a hint of frustration sneaking into her voice. Her horn flashed alive again to encase the paw in her emerald aura, twisting the appendage until the hulking dog had to relent her grip with a grunt.

                                            > A notable line of pinprick imprints in the armour was clearly visible from where her digits had flexed.

                                            > “Regardless, you have been compensated adequately for services rendered. Return to your station and prepare the spare pieces for the next duel.” She finished, voice kept even.

                                            > Melva’s ears twitched and her fangs showed. “By your leave, matron,” she finally said through grit teeth. The diamond dog turned on the spot, and marched out the same way she had come. Only this time, the surrounding changelings had learned their lesson and they quickly trudged out of the way to give her a wide berth.

                                            > Chuckling awkwardly in the now sudden silence, Albuna cleared her throat.

                                            > “Sheesh, talk about a sour mood, right?” she asked, looking at the rest of the group. Anonymous could only nod in agreement, suddenly feeling very small.

                                            Caci walked up to the ensemble, shaking her head in disbelief.

                                            > “Marehandling the Allfather like that, the audacity of this bi-,“ she started.

                                            “Enough already”, Chrysalis cut her off. “Melva’s actions, while brutish, were fuelled by indignation and frustration. Not anger.”

                                            > Looking over to see the nurselings finishing their stabilisation of the ragged Mentha, they lifted her up on a stretcher and began carrying her off towards the medical wing.

                                            > That could very well have been Anonymous, Chrysalis pondered. Had the hive queen not been so surprised by the destruction of her weapon, it might very well have been Anonymous being carted off.

                                            “Besides, she is right. We need a damned good plan for the next fight.” She said solemnly. “Caci, you observed the fight, right?”

                                            > Snapping into a salute at the sudden inquiry by her superior, the answer came promptly.

                                            > “Every second of it, my queen,” she said. “Although I did have to crouch to look through the peephole,” the behemoth commented sheepishly with a pout.

                                            “Good. Have Neptunis take over your station and follow us to the smithy. It seems we have need of your experience with heavy armoury.”

                                            -------------------**-------------------

                                            > “Did you see how he clobbered Mentha with the shield?”, an excited Albuna asked Nevar and Caci for the umpteenth time since they parted from the arena.

                                            > Chrysalis and Anonymous led the three of them along, as they walked in the now busy hallway towards the smithy.

                                            > Since leaving Sanctuary, the young queen had not stopped gushing to anyone close enough to listen, lavishing the human’s technique in endless praise. Even though Chrysalis agreed with everything she pointed out, Nevar’s tired look spoke volumes of her continued enthusiasm on the subject matter.

                                            > Only Caci reflected Albuna’s enthusiasm with her own arguments and points made.

                                            > Passing the group of five in the halls, pheidoles armed to the teeth wordlessly marched and stationed themselves along the sides. Accompanying the stoic soldier caste, a smaller cluster of changelings was carrying new medical supplies from the storages around the hive.

                                            > This continued all the way into the deep of the fortress, into the royal smithy. Opening the doors to the now familiar warmth, the sight of a very grumpy-looking Melva and a nervously sweating Matabele greeted them.

                                            > Turning to see the new arrivals, Caci shortly locked eyes with the equally towering canine. Neither of them said anything. Then, Melva’s eyes shifted down to Chrysalis’.

                                            > “Matron,” the diamond dog said stiffly.

                                            > “My queen, Allfather Anonymous.” Matabele said in greeting as he bowed his head. A small satchel sat next to him, its medical supplies poking out of the halfway opened canvas.

                                            > “Anonymous, we will need to remove the armour to survey the extent of your injuries. Please, have a seat,” he said, indicating a humble stool to the side.

                                            > Doing as asked, Anonymous sat, before he looked around with a questioning brow.

                                            > “Flux will be here shortly from the storages with the new armour pieces – she and her assistants knows the safest way of stripping the armour off your chest,” Matabele explained, as he helped lift the gorget around the human’s neck. “Do you already now know if your ribs are just bruised or-“.

                                            > Huffing in impatience, killing off the overseer’s words in his mouth, Melva crossed the smithy. Kneeling down in front of the human, she hooked one paw at the front of the breastplate, and another on the back.

                                            > Anonymous looked at the massive paw filling up his field of view before his eyes grew wide as he realised what she had planned.

                                            > Surely, he thought, she couldn’t mean to-

                                            > Flexing her shoulders, the remainder of the plating was torn down the middle with a ghastly screech like metal being ripped. The two pieces fell to the floor with a loud bang each.

                                            > Everyone gathered looked down at the broken down pieces still rocking slightly. Anonymous had turned a shade paler as his hand touched at his collar with a gulp.

                                            > “Easy peasy,” Melva commented dryly as she nonchalantly picked them up, and turned to walk out, probably heading for the smithy’s scrap.

                                            > Caci stepped into her way, huffing.

                                            > “You’re dangerously close to outstepping your leash, dog,” she said slowly, voice laden with threats of physical trauma.

                                            > Melva’s eyes twitched as she growled.

                                            > “I am out of line? Listen here, ladybug, I am *this* close to walking out of here, and your insistent tugging at your own fetlocks for this male is starting to grind on my nerves.”

                                            > The behemoth’s griff clattered audibly as her eyes spilled open. She was absolutely not tugging at her fetlocks for the Allfather! In fact, he justly deserved every piece of praise any ling here cou-

                                            > Not waiting for a reply, the rune smith stepped aside and opened the door behind the indignant mare. Opening the door revealed a surprised Flux on the other side with a raised hoof and an equally surprised pair of assistants carrying new pieces of glinting plating.

                                            > The three changelings quickly moved out of the way as the diamond dog exited the tense smithy.

                                            > Flux came in, bowing her head.

                                            > “I trust that was honourable Melva carrying the remains of the Allfather’s chest plate?” she asked, as she guided her helpers in and started to unpack their packages.

                                            “Yes, yes it was,” Chrysalis said tiredly, pinching the bridge of her snout. By the mothers, please don’t let the royal smith act the same way too with her work.

                                            > “I figured as much. I am pleased to know my humble work proved sufficient,” the mare said, a hint of pride flaring from her aura. Motioning for Anonymous to lift his arms, she carefully began lifting the pauldrons and the mithril byrnie off him.

                                            > Slowly taking her time, she moved the glittering piece around sparing his left side as much as the metal allowed. The soft chains clinked softly, before placing it across a simple wooden stand to the side.

                                            > Her two assistants began unclasping the woollen gambeson, mimicking their mistress’s careful movements removing it and placing it on another stand. Anonymous breath hitched again, and Chrysalis made an uncomfortable hiss.

                                            > Stepping close again, Matabele held up a small glass jar with a softly glowing ointment, before smearing it across a new bandage. Motioning for Anonymous to remove the temporary piece from his brow, the overseer deftly applied the fresh linen with his hooves.

                                            > Looking over his work, double-checking the knots and flattening out a single crease, he smiled.

                                            > “Now, Anonymous, would you please remove your shirt? I need to see your ribs – do it slowly, though. Without the gambeson, there’s nothing holding any broken bones still. We don’t want you to puncture a lung now, do we?” he said, voice laden with mirth.

                                            > Anonymous paused unbuttoning his collar, staring silently at the old stallion. Raising a questioning eyebrow in mock puzzlement, Matabele silently returned the human’s bewilderment. Accepting defeat, he continued his task at hand.

                                            > “Ooooh, exotic…” Albuna whispered wordlessly as his pecs came to show. “I’m starting to understand why you like having him around this place, Chrysa- EEP!“

                                            > The flash of Chrysalis’ tail was as rapid as it was merciless, striking the younger queen’s flank with an audible whiplash.

                                            “Don’t make me bring out the spray, Albuna,” the whole-born commented dryly, stepping closer to observe.

                                            > Midway down the side of his chest, Anonymous had a large angry-red bruise. Humming softly, the overseer started prodding just outside of the bruising, asking the man to tell when it hurt, and to score the pain on a scale.

                                            > This went on for a couple of minutes, Matabele working in a soft circular pattern around the injury, with Anonymous’ breath hitching occasionally when the prodding pushed a bit too hard.

                                            > “Now, I can’t tell for sure, but I am almost certain it is just a heavy bruise, maybe some light chipping. Nothing too severe, but for good measure, we will have Flux ease up on the gambeson’s buckles.

                                            > Caci blinked owlishly, her head turning between the nasty bruise and the overseer.

                                            > “That’s it, a doctor’s assessment and off on his merry way he goes?” she said, voice taking a slight edge.

                                            > Looking up at the mare, the overseer shrugged helplessly.

                                            > “Normally, I would ordain complete rest, avoiding heavy lifting, avoiding restraining his chest, and overall taking it easy…” he started, tapping his hoof in tandem with his listings. “But really, the best I can offer is trying to minimise the discomfort as much as possible.”

                                            > Matabele attached the lid back on the ointment, before motioning for Anonymous that he could slip on his clothes again. “Besides,” he started, presenting the jar for the behemoth to observe, “Such luxuries are not ordained to us at the current time.

                                            > “Is that…?” Caci inquired, curious.

                                            > “Clover honey, yes. Courtesy of Queen Albuna’s entourage. They brought a spare jar and most gratuitously offered it to me for further study,” the overseer said, bowing his head towards the amber royal. “Did you know it can serve as a blood clotting agent, a mild disinfectant AND a delectable spread on toast?” he asked, eyes shimmering in excitement.

                                            > Caci grew a distant look, her trail of thoughts obviously in a very different place.

                                            “Matabele, please don’t distract her any further,” Chrysalis pleaded. “We need her expertise, even more so for the next bout,” she hissed.

                                            > Cocking his head to the side in thought, the soft demeanour washed away from the stallion’s features.

                                            > “I’m sorry, Chrysalis, forgive me.” he said. Walking back to his satchels, he fished out a small notebook, flicking the pages around before landing on the section he had sought.

                                            > “Anonymous, listen carefully to what I will tell you now. I scoured the hive library for anything we have on the queen of the Baltimare hive, and whilst your… strategy… in the arena worked on Mentha, it is safe to say that you will find no such reprise against the Sovereign of Greed.”

                                            > Already standing to allow the smithy assistants to dress him in the gambeson again, Anonymous’ brows furrowed.

                                            > “Why is that, Matabele?” he asked, voice heavy.

                                            > “For the simple reason that unless you either lop off her head or grab her horn, she will shrug off whatever wounds you inflict,” he said nonchalantly. “Through her natural affinity for shapeshifting, she has perfected the art of manipulating her own self. Break her leg and she will simply tear off the remains, grow a new one, and beat you with the former.”

                                            > The human gulped audibly at the gory details. “Yea, that sounds a tad ‘difficult’, as you put it,” he admitted, looking at Chrysalis for confirmation. She simply looked back with a thoughtful expression.

                                            “That is not all, Matabele,” she said.

                                            > The stallion sighed again.

                                            > “No, it is not. She can manifest true shapeshifting. Whereas a regular changeling is unable to morph the overall stature and weight of their shifting too far off their original stature, she can take on the full brawn and might of anything she wishes.”

                                            > “Anything?”

                                            > Nodding in return, the stallion closed his notebook again and looked over the human’s shoulder.

                                            > “And that’s why we need Caci here”, Matabele said. “Goodness knows you need a proper strategy besides holding back and letting Buddleia tire herself out.”

                                            > “…I did not.” Anonymous mumbled. The behemoth walked up behind him, craning her neck to look down on him and letting out a heavy snort rustling his hair.

                                            > “Respectfully, and it pains me to say this, Allfather, you did hold back. You need to understand the extent of your armour and the potential it gives you...” Sitting down on her haunches, the massive shape of the mare shielded their conversation from the rest of the gathered royals.

                                            > Matabele joined with his regent, and sat beside them.

                                            “I trust Mentha’s given proper accommodations in the hive infirmary,” she said, voice poised in irony.

                                            > Chuckling humorously, the old stallion nodded.

                                            > “Oh yes, indeed. She is being administered just enough ambrosia to prevent any permanent damage, under the watchful eye of six behemoths and more pheidoles than I care to count.”

                                            > A breath of relief escaped the whole-born’s lips.

                                            “Good. I want her thrown out and escorted back to her own ilk the second she can move under her own weight,” she said coldly. “After what she did to him, I need her as far away from me as possible, before I commit regicide.”

                                            > Matabele simply bowed his head, and strode to leave.

                                            “Oh, and Matabele?” Chrysalis said without turning. “Never mention Sovereigns in Anonymous’ presence again.”

                                            > He paused for a second, then.

                                            > “Of course, my queen. Forgive me,” he said, closing the door behind him.

                                            > Looking to her side, Chrysalis spotted a distraught-looking Nevar. The poor assistant was still fiddling with her notes, a slight panic in her eyes. The nervous emotions radiating off the otherwise professional changeling was starting to affect the hive queen’s mood, and doing little good for her nerves.

                                            “Nevar, still looking for your notes, I presume?” she asked.

                                            > Looking up from her satchels packed with paper, the mare simply nodded.

                                            “Good, but leave it for now. I need to know who snuck into Matabele’s office, what information they gathered and if you can, how in the seven hells he himself knew they did it.”

                                            > Jutting down her instructions, the mare quickly packed up her things and left in a flash the same way as the overseer.

                                            > The sound of Albuna humming softly caught Chrysalis’ attention. The queen leaned her horn towards the massive shape of the behemoth lecturing the human in the finer details of a proper riposte. A questioning look on her face.

                                            > Chrysalis shook her own head.

                                            “Not now - he has enough on his mind already. We all do.”

                                            -------------------**-------------------

                                            ~ One hour later.

                                            > Anonymous found the action of walking into the arena in a whole suit of armour again was a tad easier the second time around. Although, the applause was just as tremendous as his debut earlier in the morning.

                                            > Casting his eyes around the sight, Chrysalis was back in her usual seating, alongside a wide-grinning Albuna, and a smiling Matabele. Whilst the latter two followed his own entry with rapt applause, his love had her eyes stiffly glaring daggers at his new adversary.

                                            > Queen Buddleia strode into the early-afternoon lights permitted through the overhead sails. Whereas Mentha had opted for a specific overall design and purpose of her protective gear, the larger queen had simply chosen to walk in without anything but her horn, wings, and the signature crown atop her head.

                                            > Swallowing nervously, Anonymous met her at the centre table once more, looking over the wide range of sharp weaponry.

                                            > New replacements for the ones expended in the first melee had been retrieved.

                                            > Casting a mocking smirk his way, Buddleia snorted, before making a sweeping motion out at the rafters, her hoof stopping pointing vaguely towards Albuna overseeing the two.

                                            > “Let it be known, Queen Albuna, I will not need any such brutish means to seize victory. I forfeit my choice of arms,” she said, turning back to stand at her designated position.

                                            > Albuna nodded stoically. “As is your right. Anonymous,” she started. “Whilst Queen Buddleia has rejected the offer, you may still make your own choice of any of the armaments in front of you.”

                                            > Anonymous bowed his head in understanding, quickly scanning over the assortment. Not wanting to give Buddleia a hint of his own uncertainty, he picked up a stylized mace and hooked it to his belt.

                                            > Next, he picked out a large shield, a pavise with a nasty looking spike at its feet. Guiding his arms through a pair of loops, he tossed the shield over his back.

                                            > Finally, he chose a humble but sturdy halberd before turning to walk back to his position.

                                            > Just as with the first duel, Albuna presented both Buddleia and he, stating their origins, before asking them of their choice to remain in the arena.

                                            > Both of them said their affirmations.

                                            > Albuna paused for a moment, looking over at the human. It had been imperceptible to most but his voice had not rung out with the same bravura as in the first round. Gritting her teeth, her horn flared in amber colours.

                                            > “May love shine on you both. You may begin.”

                                            > Her shielding spell had barely made it past the halfway point towards the flooring before Anonymous gripped the long shaft in both hands and began marching towards the still smiling Buddleia.

                                            > All but a few steps away, Anonymous hoisted the weapon with his shoulders before readjusting his grip.

                                            > “I have a proposal, son of iron,” the smug queen said, not moving an inch from where she stood. “Changelings can look like any being, regardless o- EEP!”

                                            > The heavy blade sang through the air, leaving a whistling aftermath in the rapidly fainting wake in the place of the cowering hive queen’s head. The momentum of the halberd head carried through into a second follow-up swing aimed towards her shoulder.

                                            > Taking a hasty step back, the weapon only left a glancing slash across the chitin as its deadly flurry continued.

                                            > Anonymous persistently pressed forward, carrying the halberd into another downward strike that shook the ground. The thundering strike dug a scant few inches into the ground, a short breadth away from the still sputtering queen.

                                            > “For the love of… will you cease?!” she hissed, stepping an immovable hoof onto the side of the blade tip locking it in place.

                                            > Anonymous tried tugging futilely at the embedded weapon with a grunt, but it was as if set in stone. So focused on his predicament, he did not notice the purple flash of spell fire.

                                            > “Anonymous dearest, listen to me,” Chrysalis’ voice came from in front of him. The man froze.

                                            > There, in the place of the arena, stood the striking image of his beloved in the flesh. The subtle shine of her chitin, the perfect holeless shape of her saber-like horn sending soft sparkles across its surface, the immaculate shine of her mane in the sun glistening.

                                            > “Anonymous, lay down your weapons,” his love pressed, her voice dire. “We do not need to fight. All you have to do is ask, and we would take her shape, you would never lie with anyone but her. It would be-“

                                            “A lie. Stop this.” he said breathlessly.

                                            > Tears welled up in her eyes, and Anonymous felt his stomach sink.

                                            > “Beloved Anonymous, please. It would be the ideal! Something as grave as a duel to the death, over something so trivial as-“

                                            > The gauntlet struck the side of her muzzle without hesitation, sending her skidding across the arena. Slowly getting back up, another flash of spell fire followed and again Buddleia stood in front of him. The cracked chitin on her cheekbone and her bleeding nose lit up with a wash of flames before returning to their spotless prior state.

                                            > The human tugged at his weapon again, freeing it to once more to point its head at her.

                                            “I have had enough of you fucks trying to woo me with your poorly hidden trickery. It may not matter to you.” He waved around with his arm, indicating the surrounding area. “Any of this, all of this… but it matters to me,” he said in a gravelly voice threatening to break.

                                            > The lilac queen stood still as she regarded him silently. Then, a scoff escaped her, as her horn flared again.

                                            > “You are wrong, son of iron,” she said, before a wave of spell glimmers flew past her eyes. In her stead, a lithe jaguar stood instead. The signature fur of the animal had been shifted from its usual colour palette into a mixture of the queen’s original purple membrane and black chitin shades.

                                            > He pounded a closed fist against his breastplate, a resounding metal clack echoing from the sides.

                                            “I have done nothing wrong, you bitch,” Anonymous said. “I love Chrysalis for who she is, and you obsessive cunts have no right to hinder that. I am as much a part of her, as she is of me.”

                                            > “You think of yourself as one of us by representing her,” she nodded her head towards the royal tribune. “You are naught but fodder, fae.”

                                            > Whilst her voice had retained its sharpness, it had taken on a light purring roll on some syllables, he noticed.

                                            > “Pitiful, the one thing you actually could do to better all changelings. For someone clad in the discarded chitin of changelings, you care preciously little for the suffering and livelihood of the greater hive, of all changelings.”

                                            > The beast queen started to circle around him. He did not mimic her actions. Instead, he immediately dived towards her, spear at the ready.

                                            > Stabbing quickly at the royal in front of him, she weaved and dodged every strike. The long reach of the halberd was quickly proving to be less of an advantage and more of a hindrance.

                                            > “You’ve taught yourself our laws. Our ways. Even our politics,” Buddleia roared, claws dancing noisily but harmlessly across his plating. “And yet, you deny the starving hives a respite. You preach love, but deliver only animosity towards our needy.”

                                            “I have yet to hear a reasonable alternative than this debacle, Buddleia,” Anonymous hissed.

                                            > A toothy smile danced across her lips.

                                            > “I can tell my words ring true, ironborn. I can feel your will faltering, your certainty in your cause wavering. Your words may be puffed up with fervent fanaticism of your holeless lover, but your very mind reveals your weakness,” she said.

                                            > The human picked up the pace, his weapon but a flurry of hardened wood and deadly-sharp hive rock blade. And yet, no matter his frustrations and anger-fuelled endeavours, he could not land a single hit on the agile beast in front of him.

                                            > Another brilliant flash of spellcasting flew out as Anonymous threw a sweeping haymaker to try and catch the shapeshifter off guard. The afterimage of the queen vanished from his sight. Casting his head from side to side, he desperately tried to grasp at her whereabouts.

                                            > Empty air surrounded him, revealing nothing of the-

                                            > A tiny laugh sounded from his feet and he looked down. A humble mouse stood at his heavy greaves, it’s purple-hued coat revealing its origins.

                                            > “All too easy,” its delicate voice said.

                                            > Anonymous saw another flash of mana, before his perception of the world was abruptly shattered violently. He tumbled into the side of the arena’s shield with a loud crash. The wind was knocked out of him and the centre of his chest ached as he futilely tried forcing air back into his lungs.

                                            > His hands grasped at his armour as his airways spasmed, feeling two distinct impact points below his ribcage. The human looked up from the ground, lungs still straining through the cramps.

                                            > In the midst of the arena, where he had stood a few seconds before, an enormous minotaurian heifer had her hooves solidly planted in the dirt. The monstrous ivory horns jutting from her head told him all he needed to know.

                                            > If it had not been for his armour, he would have been skewered like a roast.

                                            > The cow grinned widely at him, before she started stalking towards him. Panic filling his movements, the human staggered onto a pair of shaking legs before picking up the discarded halberd by his feet.

                                            > Pointing the spear end of the weapon towards her, Buddleia stopped and eyed him carefully. Then, she started backing up again before a lilac wave of fire started at her hooves.

                                            > Realising an opportunity, Anonymous ran towards her. Before the flames reached her midst, the halberd swung gracefully.

                                            > Whether immobile from her spell, or too occupied by the magic funnelling into her casting, the lilac queen could not dodge in time. The blade grazed the top of her left forearm, minutely changing the direction of the blow before it collided with her unprotected side.

                                            > Despite the awkward angling, the strike still carried enough momentum for the blade to chop into her flesh. Ribs bent or broke from the sheer force carried over. An abrupt cough foretold the collapse of a lung.

                                            > Both the human and the minotaur stood still in shock. The lilac flames from her spell ceased as the queen stared down at the injury in her side in momentary bewilderment.

                                            > Then, her eyes filled with a self-righteous fire. Grasping the shaft of the halberd with both hands, Anonymous could do little as she freed herself. Bits of blood and fur still clung to the edge, and a steady stream of fresh blood pooled into the sand below.

                                            > Tugging violently on her end, Anonymous’ was dragged along for a few steps before having to concede the weapon lest he got too close.

                                            > Righting herself again, Buddleia brought the shaft down across her knee. The wood shattered instantly, the debris thrown across the arena. Tossing the head of the halberd with disgust, she looked down her side.

                                            > Once again, Anonymous could only stand to watch the lilac flames envelop her form again, returning her original changeling form. Another quick wash of flames ran over her shape. The deep cut in her foreleg’s chitin glossed over, leaving the surface smooth and intact once again.

                                            > Meanwhile, the flames around her chest lingered on, encasing the royal in flickering embers. A heavy shuddering sigh escaped her as the flames grew smaller and fainter.

                                            > Not wanting to waste any more opportunities, Anonymous fiddled with the straps of his pavise, resting the spike on the ground and guiding his still trembling arm through the hoops, gripping the handle tightly in his open fist. Securing the sturdy buckles to his upper arm, he cast a quick glance back to see the magical start to die down.

                                            > “I will admit,” she breathlessly, a humourless smirk playing at her lips. “It’s been ages since I’ve had to heal a wound like that, iron-cursed bastard.”

                                            > Anonymous said nothing.

                                            > Unclasping the mace secured to his hips, the human got back to pressing on towards her. Buddleia’s left eye twitched angrily, seeing the rebellious human continue unphased.

                                            > “Fine,” she scoffed with a sigh. “If that is what you wish.” The flames on her side flickered out momentarily, as her horn shone alight. A torrent of lilac spell flames spewed from the sand around her, indicating another transformation.

                                            > Having healed her injuries, the human felt the time for another surprise attack had fainted. Besides, even standing some fifteen feet away he could feel the heat.

                                            > Whereas the flames had been a hearty fire, an incandescent inferno now erupted amidst the lilac colours. Anonymous raised his gauntlet and mace to try and shield his eyes from the ferocity of the flames of spellcasting.

                                            > An uneasy feeling caught his heart, as the fires began growing upwards. Climbing ever higher, the scorching and roaring flames caught onto the top of the protective shield high up in the air.

                                            > The shield flickered momentarily as the spell’s excess hammered against it.

                                            > Just as it appeared as if the flames would never die down, they came to an abrupt stop, revealing the royal’s latest antics.

                                            > In the centre of the arena surrounded by shards of melted sand and seared hive rock, stood a humongous purple dragon dame. A long slender neck with blackened spines running down its whole length, growing in size as they descended.

                                            > A heavily armoured griff shielded the top of the beast’s throat, looking like it could give Caci a run for her bits. Onyx claws scraped along the floor driving deep notches into the foundation, as an equally deadly-looking serpent-tail danced through the air hypnotically.

                                            > Coarse scales and bone-like ridges covered the entire beast in armour far surpassing his own. Heavy leathery wings stretch upwards, before being tugged tightly to her side.

                                            > The dragon drew a heavy, yet laboured breath, only adding to the impressive volume it took up by its sheer bulk. Anonymous could just about make out the sound of a shrill hissing as Buddleia took stock of her new vantage point some fifteen trots up in the air.

                                            > Seems like the strike moments ago still had not healed fully.

                                            > Lightly opening her jaws, everything turned silent. Then, a loud clicking noise emanated deep down her gullet. Looking down at the puny human in front of her, a toothy and ugly smile stewed on her façade.

                                            > Anonymous, dumbstruck and close to shitting his armoured breaches as he was, felt all of his children’s books come surging to the front of his mind.

                                            > Dragons hoard. Dragons fight knights. Dragons breathe fire!

                                            > Tossing the mace, now woefully inadequate for the job at hand, the human grasped firmly with his now freed hand around the wrist of the arm strapped to the pavise.

                                            > Hearing the clicking noise pick up in intensity, he all but threw the grim spike at the front of the shield into the foundation below with both hands, before he ducked and covered behind the steel-edged rim of the shield.

                                            > He snuck a quick breath of air and held it in his lungs, and braced his shoulder.

                                            > A roaring stream of flaming fire-oil slammed into the front of his protective guard. The dragon’s roar, combined with the flames’ eager hissing echoed in his ears as his world was bathed in deep crimson and purple sparks.

                                            > The stream of flaming oils cascaded around him as he could feel his furred gambeson starting to sweat, and the top of his plated head getting uncomfortably hot.

                                            > The flaming liquid landing on his shield began pooling into small smouldering pools at his feet, licking happily away at their own flammable contents. Finally, after what felt like minutes, the flames stopped spewing as abruptly as they had appeared. Chancing a glance over the soot-covered top of his shield, Anonymous saw the dragon shut its maw closed again.

                                            > The beast twisted its jaws a few times with the echoing clicking noise disappearing deep inside the long throat behind rows of pearly fangs. Its scaled visage turned to peer down at the now dwarfed man.

                                            > “Hot enough for you, fae?” the deep rumbling yet unmistakably smug voice of Buddleia tore across the face of Sanctuary. Anonymous could feel the vibrating humming in his chest, his own teeth quivering.

                                            > The smell of the seared fur coat around his shoulder pads and hot metal stung his nostrils, as he surveyed the ground around him. The pavise’s back wall was so warm from the fire, Anonymous could feel the radiating heat on the top of his lips.

                                            > Looking at the mace in the charred sand, he figured the pavise’s spike would have to do. Those scales left no hope of hurting the dragon with any blunt weapon smaller than a battering ram.

                                            > Anonymous rose from his coveted shape, jerking his pavise free with a forceful tug of his shoulder. A coughing growl emanated from the dragon, a sound he could only guess would be the draconiic equivalence of a laugh.

                                            “I see your bad breath remains ever present, Buddleia,” he said, with his head cocked to the side.

                                            > The laughter ceased.

                                            > The smug smile washed off the dragon’s jaws, replaced by a deep hissing as the clicking noise began picking up again.

                                            -------------------**-------------------

                                            > Chrysalis could only sit and watch as her beloved had to cover behind his shield once more as the arena was lit up by the roaring flames. The spluttering purple embers flickered harmlessly against the sides of the magical dome.

                                            > Entrusting her third cracked crystal chalice to a outstretched platter of a befuddled servitor, the queen’s teeth ground against each other in barely repressed anxiety.

                                            > Anonymous' pavise had withstood the flames admirably. Glancing across its surface, the soot-covered surface had lost all of its prior polished splendour.

                                            > The tapered spikes on the top had begun glowing with a steady cherry-colouring, whilst the otherwise deep onyx in the midsts had shifted to a warm charcoal.

                                            “Albuna,” she began off-handedly. “Would you happen to know how long a North-Equestrian draka, some ten trots at the shoulders, can breathe fire?” Chrysalis had a sneaking doubt which would fail first; Anonymous' armaments, or Buddleia’s fire.

                                            > The royal to her side said nothing for a moment.

                                            > “Ten trots, you say? At least a minute, if not more.” She tapped her chin in thought. “Of course, that’s for a natural draka. The oil sack empties with use of course… Oh, and their fire stones become too soft to spark for some time, almost forgot that part.”

                                            > Chrysalis’s nerves did not lessen for a second.

                                            “How long in Buddleia’s case?” she pressed, her voice a breathless whisper.

                                            > “I… I don’t know. Seeing her shrug off that halberd was… convincing to say the least.”

                                            > Down in the arena, aforementioned queen had stopped her flames again, to instead begin circling around Chrysalis’ beloved. With the leisure of a fattened alleycat cornering a mouse, the dragon swaggered casually, sending small bouts of tar-like fireballs Anonymous’ way.

                                            > The human followed her movement, his shield the only constant view from Buddleia’s pacing patrol around.

                                            > “Whatever the Allfather plans, he needs to do something about it because Buddleia won’t be running out of juice anytime soon from the look of things,” Albuna commented.

                                            -------------------**-------------------

                                            > As if on cue, Anonymous began moving to intercept Buddleia’s path all the while maintaining his shield’s face towards the thundering dragon.

                                            > Another short stream of fire oil forced him to raise his shield to avoid the echoing roar of flames. His right arm shivered in agony from the constant heat of the fiery barrage. His gorget was left exposed to the dancing flames surrounding him, as the searing warmth transferred over, into his byrnie and into his gambeson. His brows sweat profusely as the salt stung in his eyes and his earlier wound.

                                            > Every crack or cranny of his armour ached too, from the constant vicinity to the broiling heat. Anonymous knew he had to make Buddleia stop, he was being slow-cooked alive at this point! If he could just get close enough, he might have a shot at-

                                            > The flames stopped.

                                            > The human peeked over the rim again. The only thing he saw was a giant purple paw with stretched out talons come barreling towards him.

                                            > A thundering boom hit him, as he was struck. This time around, he barely skidded across the arena floor before he collided with the magical wall.

                                            > Barely lucid from shock, the human tried weakly to raise his shield only to cry out in pain as his broken wrist screamed back at him. The adrenaline from the injury reduced his trail of thought to a surprisingly calm conclusion that it must have happened when he was struck by Buddleia.

                                            > Said dragon stopped to stare down at him from high above. The sun peering down further up blinded his eyes, as the sails shivered and flailed.

                                            > The dragon purred deeply. “I so do enjoy these moments, ‘Allfather’.” Whereas her voice had been snarky and spiteful before, words laden with unadulterated malice now flew freely.

                                            > Grasping one of his legs, Anonymous was powerless but to be dragged along. “You have little notion of how many decades I have waited to bring down Chrysalis from her pedestal.”

                                            > Stopping in the centre of Sanctuary, Buddleia planted a heavy paw on top of his breastplate. The material groaned threateningly as Buddleia loomed over him, pressing down with her full body weight. The tar-black talons dug into the armour – a far cry from whatever scratches their earlier bouts had made.

                                            > Anonymous tried to push against, but he might as well have been trying to swim up a waterfall. The pressure was unyielding as ever.

                                            > Smirking and shivering with barely held glee, the massive scaled head swooped down to stop a half a trot length away from the top of his plating. A single resounding click echoed deep in her throat in warning, as she tsked in a patronising growl.

                                            > “Tale told again, fae, you think yourself one of us. Dressed in this chitin,” she started, tapping a talon into the plating. “A mockery,” she spat.

                                            > Spurred by her own growing fury, Buddleia lifted one of her claws slightly. Flexing the heavy coords in her wrist, she drove tip into the plate covering the centre of his left shoulder. The tip perforated the armour and hit the byrnie below.

                                            > Anonymous held his breath, waiting for pain to wash over him. Both the dragon and human were silent. Clearly expecting a more… enthusiastic reaction to getting stabbed, Buddleia repeated the action.

                                            > Again, the byrnie stopped the deadly prodding, with the gambeson assisting to dissipate the force. The dragon’s eye twitched.

                                            > “Another trickery of your loyal rune bitch, or did you find some-” Buddleia’s voice stopped, as she inhaled deeply.

                                            > “You reek of iron and salt, Allfather. I smell the traces of the five behemoths subjecting themselves to this taboo you call armour. I can smell the hairs of your oversized mutt that slaved away to finish the job before her in time. I sense the stench of the manticore whose leather you desecrated…”

                                            > She paused.

                                            > “There is something else lingering in the aether betwixt the two, something I haven’t smelled before.”

                                            > She paused, lifting the offending talon from the hole it had made. Down beneath the dust-covered plating of his armour, the radiant shine of the mithril shone defiantly into the afternoon sun.

                                            > Buddleia hissed deeply and the clicking sound of her fire stones grew again. “All of this, for a cursed bed toy placed before so many others. Your very being is abhorrent to-”

                                            > Grabbing a crunching handful of the sand beneath him, Anonymous tossed it against the side of the dragon’s maw. The small pieces of debris fell harmlessly against the scales as the dragon simply flickered a secondary eyelid across the iris, not unlike any other lizard.

                                            > Another growl of fury emanated from behind the snarling jaws above him.

                                            > “Insolent fae, I-”

                                            > Not waiting for another chance, Anonymous tugged his right leg upwards to brace with before gritting his teeth. With a pained groan as his wrist howled in protest, he heaved his pavise upwards.

                                            > The still smouldering tip of the shield’s spike from the dragon fire coasted along the foreleg holding him down, drawing trace furrows into the armoured surface.

                                            > Continuing the travel upwards, the brutal point stabbed into the dragon’s snout.

                                            > Buddleia roared in shock and pain, lifting her paw to get away from the source of the searing agony. Sitting on her haunches, one paw clasped at her snout, whilst the other lifted to deliver another retaliating strike at him. A cacophony of clicks insistently erupted from the now sneering maw.

                                            > Rising to his feet again, Anonymous grasped at the handle of the pavise. Seeing the foreboding claw high above, he did the only thing he could think of.

                                            > Stepping in close to the dragon, the human thrust the pavise’s spike into the now exposed armpit of the beast. Perforating the thinly scaled area as easily as Buddleia’s talon had done only seconds prior to his armour, the spike punctured both the dragon’s oil sack and a lung.

                                            > Torrents of blood and fatty oil filled the now vacant volume in the chest. Coughing up violent streams of blood, Buddleia tumbled to the side with a pained whimper as the spike was drawn from her side. The shrill hissing of her second lung forced to work overtime could be heard.

                                            > Anonymous paused for a moment, seeing the dragon’s paws scratching at the flooring feverishly as she tried to clamber away. Ruby rivulets pooled around the haemorrhaging royal.

                                            > The human trudged along with his bloodied pavise dragging a furrow in the sand beside him.

                                            > Finally, sensing the hopelessness of her wounds, Buddleia relented and a lilac spluttering fire came shakily to life around her.

                                            > Anonymous walked into the fainting traces of magical fire, as they quickly grew smaller and smaller. The flames licked away at his now sooty and dusty plating harmlessly.

                                            > Then, the flames whisked out, revealing the downed form of Queen Buddleia laid wheezing on the ground. Flickering sparks of lilac tried futilely to repair the trauma in her side. Whether weak from the blood loss or the sacking of her mana from all the shifting, little way was made to stop the wound from healing. A thin trembling scab slowly started covering the wound, slowing the spilling of more precious vitae.

                                            > The Allfather bowed down, clasping an unyielding hand around the queen’s horn. Buddleia gasped as her magic ceased its regenerative repairs, and another violent cough shook her core.

                                            > Fresh streams of blood flew again from her lips, as her eyes shone with panic.

                                            “Yield.” Anonymous said monotonously.

                                            > Drawing another wheezing breath, Buddleia’s voice quaked.

                                            > “I-I yield,” she said, her voice weak and frail.

                                            > The words had barely registered in his mind. The sounds of the arena erupting in salutes and cheers was but a dull thudding that washed over Anonymous’ prone form, as the magical shield began peeling away.

                                            > The human released his grip, as he himself fell to the ground.

                                            > The thundering sounds grew increasingly mute, turning into the same muddy echo in his ears, as he felt himself fade into unconsciousness.

                                            > He welcomed the still dark.