The Hive was dying. That much was obvious.

It was as clear as the putrid day. My subjects had become so detestable feeble, finding it impossible to carry out even the most basic of actions. Even flight seemed to be a chore, their wings would hardly flap, crinkling apart like gravel under their own weight.

Even I was not spared this fate.

Wheezing as I walked. Falling as I flew. A far cry from my former glory. This is not the image of a Queen.

It's the image of a failure.

Starving and dying. Hindered by hunger and age. The Changelings were once so much more than we are. We were conquerors, entire civilisations had fallen to our might. Centuries of wrath and wealth.

Now we're just a myth, forgotten and buried beneath the dirt.

By Celestia, that abhorrent Celestia.

The things I would do to her...

My wings fluttered, held in place by the secretion on the walls. I should be resting, like my children were. It helps to maintain our strength, ration our reserves. We didn't have much to share.

I can't rest, I can't sleep. I won't.

How could I? As my children starve, lay like corpses in the earth. When I don't provide for them. I can't even provide for myself.

It was a downward spiral, defeat after defeat at the hooves of the ponies, pushing us into isolation, sealing us from hope. They had taken everything. Even the memory of us.

I need a plan. A plan for a future, a plan for action.

This can't be the legacy of the Changelings. To be a child's folktale, a remnant of a time long past. Forgotten even by our enemies. Destined to die like vermin in the walls.

But what can we do? What can I do? I'm too weak. There are too few of us to launch an assault like we could in the past. I don't even have the strength to bear more young, those chances had worn away, turned to dust like the rest of our brethren.

We are all that's left, and we don't have long.

I crawled out of the wall, my ever loyal guards barely moving at my side, their eyes shut and chests rising in sequence, all having succumbed to exhaustion a long time ago. I do not blame them.

I don't even know how long it has been. This was the only sanctuary we had, a desolate cave we called home. I do not recall the last time I had left it.

I would send others out, while I tended to the majority. Scouts and workers, drones and hunters, they all had their roles to ensure the Hive's survival. They were heroes to us all. They were all that stood between us and extinction.

I surveyed their work, drawing my eyes across the empty husks that once housed life, cocooned into the walls, hanging like ornaments. We were not picky; taking whatever we could get our hooves on, be it bird, dog, rat, or pony.

It was beautiful.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

We needed more.

More to hang. Drain and decay. They would thrash, scream, cry for whoever it was they held dear. It was in those moments that we knew we would sleep easy that night, with horns filled with magic and no grumbling stomachs to disturb.

We needed more nights like that, where we could curl up, cradle each other without a care in the world.

We required it.

As I continued to pace amongst the collection, I resisted the urge to spit at the creatures. So disgusting in thought and existence. We ate emotions, to an extent we almost felt them.

But to build a philosophy out of it? To build a society upon an emotion? A society based on love as these ponies had done?

It was... pathetic. But an unkindled necessity.

I would suck these ponies dry if it fed my children for a day. They were that worthless.

Undesirable sacks of meat and naive beliefs. That was all they were, and that's all they shall ever be. Food.

I can feel my breath leave me, I stumble to the floor, grains of soil and rock sticking to resin I was coated in. I try to rise, but I can't. My legs refuse the command, locking up in defiance. I groan, a sudden headache overcoming me.

I can feel them. Crying in the dark for their mother. Hungry and lonely.

Mother is here, but mother does not know what to do.

With a curse and and a yell, I finally rise. If only to defile fate itself. We will not perish a failure, and we shall not fall as the unworthy shade that we currently were. We shall die on our hooves, even if it is a fruitless effort, to spite them all, especially that obtrusive Princess.

I suddenly hear an echo in the halls, muffled by the slime and stone. Three pony figures dash into view, but I easily see through their disguises. It seems three of my loyal drones had sensed my need for aid.

One approaches me, and speaks in a garbled whisper, a language unknown to all but our kind, concern evident in his voice, laced with fear for his mother. "My Queen! Are you hurt?" he asked. Him and his companions held their hooves out for my support, which I gladly accepted.

"I am fine," I woozily replied. Remembering the identities of the drones, I suddenly grew confused, they weren't meant to be here, they were supposed to be out, readying for a harvest, picking off stragglers who had drawn too far from the road. "Why are you here? Were you discovered by the ponies? Have you found any prey?" I questioned, ceasing myself from speaking to allow for a response.

The drone appeared uncharacteristically excited, much to my wonder. "My Queen, we have news, an opportunity to infiltrate the pony city," he said. I arched my head towards him, prompting him to continue. "There will be a wedding my Queen, a large wedding, for a Princess."

Even under the weight of all my fears, I couldn't contain a growing grin. I stroked the drone and cooed his name before making my way back to the resting chamber, with the three in accompaniment. Weddings were perfect opportunities for a harvest, always ripe with love, and always filled with targets.

But the wedding of a Princess? It made me giddy.

The place will simply be radiating with love.

Wedding were so easy to infiltrate, no pony would question a new face in the crowd, and if the opportunity presented itself, the bride would be quietly removed. Then all of the love would be directed towards myself in concealment.

We had done it before, and it had yet to fail us.

This could be just the opportunity we needed. Quietly infiltrate the city in the lead up to the wedding, waiting as the anticipation grew for the big day, and as the love held between the bride and groom blossomed more and more.

If we were exposed long enough, who knows how powerful we would become.

And when we start to feast, as they grow more desperate for their lost loved ones, screaming their names... their love evident in their voices.

That will be the perfect day.

Author's Notes:

I tried to base this off of the comic Chrysalis, if you've read them you know that she's a bit more monstrous.

I made a similar story about Princess Luna turning into Nightmare Moon called The Scraping. I also intend to do more based on all of the villains.

So yeah, feedback please!