“This might be enough to defeat me. I don’t think I’m tough enough for this,” said Jakira, staring down at her bowl like it was a challenger in the ring. Her brow furrowed, one bead of sweat forming on her temple.

“Bu’ ish show good!” mumbled Mera around yet another spoonful. She barely finished swallowing before she immediately scooped more, her cheeks puffed like a squirrel hoarding treasure.

Vicky puffed up with pride and also just a hint of mischief. “Well, I was given maybe several thousand gold worth of spices to use and was allowed to use whatever I wanted… so I experimented.”

“Several thousand—” Jakira’s eyes flicked from the stew to Vicky, as if she’d just been told she was eating molten gemstones. “That explains it. This is the kind of food that fights back.”

Mera just giggled and kicked her feet under the table. “Ish the besssht. Tashtes like hugsh if hugsh were fireworksh.”

Jakira groaned, poking her spoon into the stew like it might explode at any moment. “I’m just not used to strong flavours like this. Maybe… I just need to get used to it. Yeah. Build tolerance. Like training with heavier weights, except for the tongue.”

“You make it sound like eating is combat,” Vicky teased, leaning back in her chair.

“It is combat,” Jakira said, squaring her shoulders as if she’d just sworn an oath. “And this stew is winning.”

“Not me!” chirped Mera with a goofy grin, holding up her empty bowl like a trophy. “Round two, please!”

“Well, I made enough to feed a round at a tavern, so help yourself. Maybe it would be better with bread next time,” mused the dragonkin, swirling her spoon through her bowl.

“Yeah. That would help. Agh! It burns! Why is it so spicy?” Jakira fanned her mouth with both hands.

“I might have gone a bit heavy on the pepper,” Vicky admitted sheepishly, her tail swishing behind her.

Before Jakira could complain further, the heavy scrape of chitin against stone echoed through the hall. Queen Chrysanthemum entered, her broad shoulders hunched, her arms dangling low as though they carried the weight of the cavern itself. Her antennae drooped, and even the faint chitter of her mandibles lacked their usual sharpness.

“This one has the bad news.”

The three of them froze.

“What’s wrong?” they asked in near-perfect unison, Mera trying — and failing — to smother a nervous giggle with her hand.

The queen clicked once, low and heavy. “This one must go fight the rot creatures. Will be gone for many sleeps. Maybe forty.” Her voice was flat, almost sulking, like a child forced to clean their room, but underneath was the strain of something grim and heavy.

Jakira’s spoon clattered into her bowl. “Oh, are we coming with you?”

“NO!” The queen’s voice cracked the air, startling even herself. She retracted slightly, then shook her head hard, spines along her elbows rattling. “No. The girlfriends stay. Be safe. Rot creatures dangerous. Corrup-ting. Changing. Do not be near them ever.”

Mera’s smile faltered. She stood, soft steps bringing her close, and pressed her body against the queen’s side. Her arms didn’t even stretch halfway around her waist, but she hugged her all the same, cheek resting against cool chitin. “What about you?” she whispered.

“This one is strong!” Chrysanthemum said quickly, almost too quickly. “This one fight. This one not change. But this one… has duty. Must kill rot creatures.”

Her arms finally lifted, wrapping Mera close, though her other hands twitched and curled as if already itching for war.

Vicky looked down into her bowl, suddenly feeling foolish for fussing about pepper. Jakira crossed her arms, brow tight, though her lip pressed into a line.

“Will be back soon. Will triumph. Will miss girlfriends. Look after each other, yes? Ask swarm for anything. The Vicky will look after the foods. This is okay?” Chrysanthemum’s many eyes flicked toward the dragonkin, her voice pitched soft and almost uncertain.

Vicky straightened, puffing her chest a little despite the knot of worry in her stomach. “Yeah. I can take care of our food.”

The queen gave a long chitter, a sound that might have been relief, though it vibrated with nervous energy. “Okay. Can this one have the cuddles before this one leaves?” she asked, quieter now, her mandibles clicking shut at the end like punctuation.

The three girlfriends glanced at each other — Jakira with a raised brow, Mera with a tremble in her lips, Vicky with a sigh that carried more fondness than complaint. Then, without another word, they all nodded.

They moved to the queen’s chambers where Chrysanthemum darted ahead, wings fluttering in her excitement. She practically pounced onto her bed of tangled silks and pillows, sprawling out with the triumphant grin of someone who’d won a game only she was playing. Then she froze, antennae twitching, watching the trio approach like a predator that desperately wanted to be caught.

The others exchanged another silent glance. They’d never done this before. They’d each cuddled her, sure, but never all together. Jakira squared her shoulders as if this was a battle to be faced, Vicky muttered something under her breath that was probably a curse, and Mera… well, Mera surprised everyone by climbing boldly right into Chrysanthemum’s lap.

The queen made a startled squeak, then immediately relaxed against her, practically melting into the smaller woman’s chest with an indulgent hum. Jakira awkwardly lowered herself onto one side of the bed, stiff at first, while Vicky grumbled as she claimed the other. The mattress sank under their combined weight, pushing them all uncomfortably close.

There was a long, quiet pause where none of them quite knew what to do with their arms. Chrysanthemum’s many limbs stretched hesitantly around them, then stilled, waiting.

Vicky was the first to break the silence. “So… we just… hold her?”

Jakira snorted. “You make it sound like she’s a sack of grain.”

“This is not grain,” Chrysanthemum declared, voice muffled against Mera’s chest. “This one is queen. Queens require snuggles.”

That cracked the tension. Jakira rolled her eyes, Vicky let out a reluctant laugh, and Mera smiled down at the insectoid limbs wrapped around her waist. Then, one by one, they leaned in, the awkwardness softening into something else.

“This is… nice,” said Jakira at last, the words heavy with her usual reluctance to admit to softness. Her arms stayed stiff at her sides, but she didn’t pull away.

“It is,” Vicky agreed, softer, as though surprised to be saying it aloud. One of Chrysanthemum’s legs had hooked itself around her hip and she had chosen not to comment.

“Her Majesty is extra adorable,” Mera announced with a bright smile, cuddling closer. She was immediately rewarded with Chrysanthemum’s feathered antennae brushing against her cheeks, tickling her nose until she giggled.

“This one is regal,” Chrysanthemum corrected, muffled from where her mandibles pressed against Mera’s chest. “Not the adorables.”

“Say that again while not buried in my chest,” Mera teased, trying not to laugh through the tickling.

“This one refuses,” Chrysanthemum declared stubbornly, antennae twitching all the more.

“I rest my case,” said the seamstress with triumph, nestling down a little further as though she’d just won a long-standing argument.

Jakira huffed, Vicky rolled her eyes, but neither moved away. The room warmed with the sound of Chrysanthemum’s faint chittering—something like a purr, something like laughter—until the awkwardness of their first shared cuddle gave way to genuine comfort.

 

---

 

“Okay. This one goes to battle now.” Chrysanthemum’s voice thrummed low, echoing faintly in the vaulted stone of the gate chamber.

“You’ll need to let go of us to leave… unless you’re taking us with you?” Jakira asked, her tusked grin carrying more bravado than truth.

“No. Girlfriends stay safe.”

“Then maybe let go?”

A displeased hiss rattled in the queen’s throat. Her antennae coiled tight, reluctant. “Fine. This one lets go. Bye.”

Her limbs loosened at last, releasing the trio from her firm hold. The warmth of her body faded from their arms as she stepped forward, the air between them cooling too quickly.

The dragonkin, the orc, and the seamstress stood side by side, just beyond the reach of the gates. Behind the queen, the swarm had assembled in full force—hundreds, maybe thousands of chittering soldiers packed shoulder to shoulder. Spears of chitin clacked together, wings quivered with restrained energy, the sound of it building like a storm before the break.

The northern gate towered ahead, its massive stone doors reinforced with bronze plates, etched with warding glyphs. Chains groaned as the machinery was cranked, the slab beginning to rise inch by inch. A flood of cold surface air rushed down into the chamber, carrying the scent of rain and rot alike.

Chrysanthemum strode toward it, the crowd of insectoid soldiers parting with perfect synchronicity. Her earlier softness seemed almost like a dream now—here she was, a monarch in full, every line of her body rigid with strength and duty.

She paused once at the threshold, antennae twitching back toward the three women. The gesture was small, but it carried everything she couldn’t quite put into words. Then, without speaking further, she stepped into the shaft of light spilling down from the surface, her army surging after her like a living tide.

They watched in silence as the last of the swarm poured through the gates. The echo of chitinous feet rattled through the stone halls until only silence remained. The heavy slab door shuddered back into place, sealing off the surface. It felt final, like a curtain falling at the end of a play.

“I kinda already miss her,” Vicky murmured, rubbing her arm.

“I know I do,” Mera said softly, her voice carrying a little wobble.

Jakira rolled her shoulders, trying to hide the heaviness in her chest with bravado. “Well, we’ll just need to keep ourselves busy. Maybe… go on a date with each other? Get to know one another better? Our lives since getting here have revolved around her.”

“A date?” Vicky tilted her head, lips quirking. “Hmm. I don’t dislike that idea. I’m open to it too.”

Mera’s gaze snapped to the floor, cheeks reddening. “R-really? But in the queendom—”

Vicky cut her off with a laugh that echoed off the stone. “We aren’t in Gloriana anymore. I think the social rules don’t matter here. Or at least, not those ones. None of the swarm cares that their queen has three consorts. So what’s to stop us from… getting a little closer too?” She shrugged, playful but serious underneath. “If this arrangement lasts, the closer we are, the better, I think.”

Jakira snorted, tusked grin showing. “I agree. I didn’t live my life expecting to end up in this sort of situation, but may as well toss social faux pas on the pile while we’re at it. Hells, it’d probably make Chrys happy if we were closer.”

Mera peeked up, her lips twitching into a shy smile. “S-so… what does a date look like in the middle of a hive?”

Jakira barked a laugh. “Hopefully not involving maggot stew.”

Vicky groaned, her tail flicking with disgust. “Gods, don’t even joke about that.”

“We’ve been eating like queens since we got here. I don’t think that’s a problem,” Mera said, patting her stomach with a dreamy sigh. “Besides… they don’t really cook down here, do they? How have we been eating so well?” Her gaze slid toward Vicky, suspicion laced with curiosity.

The dragonkin raised both hands in mock surrender. “Can’t say, sorry. But I will, for the foreseeable future, be looking after our meals.”

Mera pouted, crossing her arms. “Secrets already, huh?”

“It’s not a bad secret,” Vicky said with a small smirk. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

Jakira leaned back on her heels, looking between the two of them. “Alright, so—logistics. Should we do one big date, all together? Or three small ones—me with Vicky, you with Vicky, then me and you?”

Mera blinked at her. “You’re… unusually organized for an orc.”

Jakira grinned, tusks flashing. “I know what I want.”

“I think smaller dates make more sense,” Vicky said, tail curling lazily. “Or maybe all of it? She said she’d be gone for up to two months. Plenty of time.”

Mera’s face lit up, her earlier nerves melting into excitement. “I like that idea too!”

“Yeah, same,” Jakira agreed with a decisive nod.

“Great.” Vicky stretched, her joints popping after the long wait at the gate. “Well, should we get back to the palace? By the time we walk, it’ll probably be the night cycle.”

Mera glanced toward the sealed gates one last time, her smile dipping for just a heartbeat. “Yeah… back to the palace.”

Jakira slung an arm around her shoulders, steering her forward. “C’mon. First step to surviving a date in a hive: don’t mope in the gate chamber like lovesick puppies.”

Vicky rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop her laugh from echoing off the stone.