Mera was having trouble sleeping.

She was in a strange land in a strange palace filled with strange people, staring up at a strange ceiling. The shapes above her were unfamiliar, half organic, half sculpted, curling into patterns that seemed to shift when she let her eyes linger too long.

She wasn’t sure how she came to this. Why she came to this.

Actually, she knew exactly why she was here. Ever since the calls went out to become romantically entwined with the Swarm Queen, she’d thought it might be a way to leave her strata, to climb out of the narrow little life that had been allotted to her. To rise above it.

There was also the undeniable factor that she had been drawn to the Swarm Queen the moment she saw her—drawn in ways she hadn’t expected, hadn’t wanted to admit. Attraction mingled with awe, and awe blurred with fear.

The bed beneath her did nothing to ease the racing of her mind. It wasn’t at all what she expected, but it cradled her like nothing she’d ever known. How could a bed of moss be softer, kinder, than the lumpy mattress in her cramped apartment? How could a thing that looked grown, not built, hold her so perfectly?

And the food. She pressed her lips together, remembering the meal. Dishes without name, flavors she had no comparison for, each one layered and rich in a way she was sure would leave nobles clawing for recipes. Yet here they were, prepared in a place without chefs, without servants, without kitchens that she could see. It unsettled her, the way comfort and abundance seemed to simply appear.

She rolled over, clutching at the moss like it might offer answers. All of this was wrong, unnatural, and yet it was the most comfortable she had ever been in her life.

Deciding she wasn’t going to get any more sleep, Mera pushed herself upright with a sigh and smoothed out the wrinkles in her nightgown. At least the air wasn’t cold here—it was warm, almost thick, as though the walls themselves breathed. She slipped out into the corridors, letting her bare feet sink into the strange, living floors, and began to wander.

The palace was quiet at this hour, though never silent. There was always the faint hum, the whisper of distant movement, like hundreds of tiny legs scurrying just beyond the walls. She passed rooms she couldn’t begin to name the purpose of—chambers filled with spiraling growths, alcoves where light pooled without flame, and open spaces that seemed built only for the echo of footsteps. Others were clearly storerooms, stacked with containers she didn’t dare open.

Once, she brushed past a curtain and realized too late that she had stepped into someone’s private quarters. She caught a glimpse of a figure stirring in a cocoon-like bed and retreated at once, cheeks burning, murmuring an apology that no one heard.

Her aimless wandering carried her further than she meant to go. When she finally stopped, she realized she was standing before a great set of doors—taller, heavier, carved with curling patterns that gleamed in the dim light. The queen’s chambers.

Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to go in. She wanted to share that vast bed, to curl against the queen’s hard body, to feel those chitinous arms close around her the way they had before. She wanted to bury her face against the unexpected softness beneath all that armor, to taste the scent of her skin again, to—

Mera shook herself sharply and turned away, heat flooding her face. No. She couldn’t think such things. Not about her sovereign, not about the Swarm Queen herself. It was improper. Indecent. She clutched her nightgown tighter to her chest and forced herself down another hallway, but her pulse refused to calm.

Mera froze in front of the door, forcing herself to turn away. She hadn’t even taken a step before it creaked open. Antennae slid through the gap first, then the broad shadow of the queen herself.

“Mera? Why standing here?” Chrysanthemum’s voice clicked and hummed in the dark. “Want something?”

Mera’s stomach lurched. “N-no! I couldn’t sleep, so I was just walking, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

The queen tilted her head, eyes glittering faintly. “Not bother. If you walk to my room, then you wanted me. Yes?”

Mera’s face burned. “I—I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be—”

“Proper?” Chrysanthemum interrupted with a sharp chitter. “Human words. Meaningless. Come inside.”

Before Mera could stammer a reply, the queen’s clawed hand closed around her wrist. The grip was firm, chitin warm. She tugged Mera forward, pulling her over the threshold without effort.

The chamber inside was different from the rest of the hive. Walls shimmered faintly like crystal, alive with crawling lights. The bed of moss rose high, soft and green, threads of silk glistening across it. The air smelled of damp earth and nectar.

Chrys released her wrist and moved to the bed, lowering herself with a rustle. She patted the moss at her side, eyes never leaving Mera. “You want sleep? Then sleep here. With this one. This ones arms are strong. Good for holding.”

Mera’s throat tightened. She stood frozen in place, nightgown clutched, heart beating too fast.

“Unless,” Chrysanthemum added, antennae flicking, “you prefer stand in hall all night.”

The human tilted their head, eyes narrowing. “Was that a joke?”

“What is a joke?” Chrysanthemum asked, mandibles shifting as she tasted the word in her throat. She flexed one claw against the wall, mimicking their posture without meaning to.

“Oh—sorry, I thought—”

Chrysanthemum hissed and let out a quick series of clicks, the sound bouncing sharp against the corridor metal. Her antennae curled in amusement. “Yes. I know the jokes. This one is the funny with this one wants to be.” She leaned in, close enough for the faint hum of her carapace to fill the silence.

Mera approached and climbed into the bed gingerly, careful not to disturb the shifting hum of wings and faint rustle that always seemed to linger in the queen’s presence. The swarm queen lay down on her side, the mattress dipping under her weight, and drew the small human against her with slow, deliberate motion. Her arms folded around Mera from behind, chitin cool at first against warm skin, then settling into a steady, protective hold.

Chrysanthemum’s thorax vibrated faintly, a low, resonant hum that filled the quiet of the chamber like a lullaby in a language not meant for human throats. Mera felt the brush of antennae against her hair, exploratory yet gentle, as though the queen were weaving her presence more firmly around her.

Enclosed in that alien embrace, Mera’s shoulders slackened. What might have felt strange, even unsettling, instead carried an unexpected weight of safety—like being hidden in the hollow of a tree, guarded by something vast and watchful.

“This one likes the cuddles,” Chrysanthemum said quietly, her voice a soft rasp as her mandibles clicked faintly in rhythm. She drew Mera closer and gave the smallest squeeze. Even so, the pressure carried an undeniable reminder—if the queen truly wished, she could crush bones without effort.

Mera felt it in the way her chest tightened for a moment before Chrysanthemum relaxed again, the strength ebbing back into gentleness. The awareness lingered, not frightening, but grounding. She was being held by something vast, dangerous, and yet choosing to be careful with her.

“I like the cuddles too,” Mera murmured, nestling against the smooth planes of chitin, letting her eyes flutter shut. The hum of the swarm queen’s body thrummed through her, steady and low, like a heartbeat magnified into a chorus.

 

---

 

When Mera opened her eyes in what she assumed was morning—judging by the way the great light crystals overhead had brightened to a soft glow—she found herself nose to chitin. The swarm queen was staring at her intently, unblinking. The moment their gazes met, Chrysanthemum squeezed her eyes shut with an almost guilty swiftness.

“Did you sleep okay?” Mera asked softly.

The only answer she got was a tightening of those long arms around her middle, the faint rasp of chitin shifting against her tunic.

“I… should probably get up and get dressed,” Mera tried again, wriggling a little. The effort proved hopeless. She might as well have been wrapped in steel bands.

Chrysanthemum made a low, trilling chitter deep in her throat. “This one is still asleep. Cannot wake.”

Mera blinked, caught between a laugh and confusion. “You’re talking, though…”

“No. Talking in dream. Still dream. If little soft one leaves, dream will break.” Her antennae brushed against Mera’s hair, as if to underline the point. “So must not leave. Must stay.”

Mera gave a quiet sigh, torn between exasperation and a reluctant warmth curling in her chest. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this trapped before, she thought, settling back against the queen’s cool, rigid body. “Fine. Just a little longer.”

Chrysanthemum’s chitter rose into a pleased hum, and her hold softened—though not enough to let Mera escape, even if she wanted to.

Eventually, she was released from her chitinous prison, though Chrysanthemum’s obvious reluctance made it feel more like a negotiation than a choice. The queen lingered a moment longer, antennae twitching irritably as if the act of letting go physically pained her.

By the time Mera joined the others in the dining chamber, Vicky looked half dead—her silver hair a tangled mess, shoulders sagging, and dark circles shadowing her bright eyes. Jakira, by contrast, looked like she’d been up and active for hours, leaning lazily on one elbow but alert and steady.

“It’s kinda weird not having day or night down here,” Mera remarked as she settled into her seat, smoothing her tunic.

“Eh, I’m used to working through nights,” Vicky grumbled, rubbing at her face. “Those weird crystal thingies are close enough to daylight for me.”

Jakira chuckled. “Mm, doesn’t bother me much either, but I’ll probably need to make frequent trips to the surface. I think I’d go stir-crazy if I stayed under here too long.”

The conversation cut off when Chrysanthemum entered, skittering in with three of those strange carved plates balanced in her long, clawed hands. She set one in front of each of them with reverent precision.

“This one has the breakfast foods for the girlfriends,” the queen announced with satisfaction, her mandibles clicking faintly. “This one calls them flat cakes and hogstrips with tree sugar.”

The three women blinked down at the plates. Thin golden discs stacked neatly, strips of something crisp and glistening, and a little bowl of amber syrup that caught the glow of the crystals overhead.

“…You made pancakes and bacon,” Vicky muttered, staring like she was dreaming.

“Flat cakes,” Chrysanthemum corrected immediately. Her antennae tilted toward Mera as though eager for approval. “And hogstrips. With tree sugar. This one invented them.”

Jakira barked a laugh. “Invented, huh? You sure about that?”

The queen puffed up, mandibles flaring wide. “Yes. Swarm queen thought of them all by herself. No one else.”

Mera, biting back a smile, dipped her fork into the syrup and let it drip across the stack. “Well, I think your invention smells amazing.”

Chrysanthemum’s antennae swayed happily, her whole carapace giving a faint ripple of pride.

Mera bit into it and nearly moaned aloud. “It’s so soft and fluffy! I didn’t even know pancakes could be this soft!”

“Did not use pan. Used—” Chrysanthemum froze, mandibles clicking together before she hastily corrected herself. “Flat cakes. No pan.”

“Whatever you say,” Vicky muttered around a mouthful, though the edge in her voice softened as the taste hit her tongue. “Oh, yeah… wow. This is good. What even is this syrup? And this bacon—hogstrips, whatever—is better than anything I’ve ever tasted before. Do you have a chef locked down here or something?”

The queen’s antennae twitched stiffly. “N-no. It’s a secret. No more asking. Eat the tasty food.”

Jakira smirked, chewing happily. “Fine by me. Secrets taste delicious.” She jabbed her fork toward Chrysanthemum, sauce dripping from the tip. “What about you? Are you going to eat, or just sit there and watch us like some kind of proud mama bird?”

The queen gave a low chitter, shaking her head. “Ate last night. No need to eat till tonight.”

“That… was vague,” Mera said carefully.

Chrysanthemum’s glossy eyes glinted in the crystal light, and she tilted her head with a too-wide smile. “Still full. That is all that matters. Girlfriends should not worry.”

The three women shared a look across the table, but the food was too good to press further.

“Today, this one will show the city of this one’s kingdom! There are many sights to see! Many swarm to meet! After the breaking of the fast,” Chrysanthemum announced proudly, her antennae bouncing with excitement.

Mera glanced down at herself, cheeks coloring. “I’ll need to put on some proper clothes if we’re going out.”

The queen blinked. “Are you not wearing the ‘proper clothes’ now?”

Mera tugged at the hem of her loose linen shirt and shook her head. “These are night clothes. For sleeping in.”

“Night clothes?” Chrysanthemum leaned closer, peering as if the fabric would reveal its secrets. “They are soft. Comfortable. Why not wear always? Why only in the night?”

Jakira snorted into her plate. “Because people would stare. Night clothes aren’t for parading around in public, Mera’s right.”

“I don’t know,” Vicky said, smirking as she speared another bite of hogstrips. “I think the queen has a point. They do look comfy.”

Chrysanthemum clacked her mandibles in triumph. “Yes! Comfy is good. Girlfriends should always be comfy. This one decrees it!” She paused, tilting her head. “But… if human customs demand other cloth, then other cloth can be found. You must look radiant when shown to swarm.”

Mera sighed, amused despite herself. “Alright, I’ll change before we leave. Just… no carrying me around like a doll again, please.”

Chrysanthemum’s antennae twitched mischievously. “This one would not think of it...”