Two beings circled each-other, one a white stallion caparisoned in golden armor, wielding a spear; the other a changeling, his fangs bared as he kept his eyes fixed on his opponent. The sounds of battle were all around them, both sides shouting and throwing each-other's lives to the wind. Slowly circling to the right, the changeling let out a low growl, hoping it would at least intimidate the pony.
The stallion charged, screaming as he thrust his spear forwards. He grunted as the changeling sidestepped and swung his hoof into the side of his head. A flash danced across his vision, and he thudded into the ground, his helmet flying off and rolling away into the chaos of the battle.
He dragged himself back to his hooves, breath ragged. He held up his spear, grip wavering – the tip steadily swinging back and forth as he tried to keep it straight. "Come on," he muttered, "come here so I can put a few more holes in you."
The changeling paused, blinked once, then twice. What happened next caught the stallion off-guard; the bug began to chuckle. "What, you actually thought that was good?" the stallion said incredulously, gripping his spear tighter.
"Yeah," the changeling said with a grin, placing his hoof back on the cobblestone, "to me, at least." A trace of sadness came over the pony's features then, and he found himself frowning. The changeling raised an eyebrow. "Something the matter?"
"It's just that nopony ever laughs at my jokes." He sighed. "And the one time that someone does laugh, I'm barely even trying!"
The changeling pursed his lips. "I'm sorry about that," he said, sounding sincere. "It was cheesy, but not bad."
"Like swiss cheese?" the stallion jested, sadness momentarily forgotten.
With a chuckle, the changeling rolled his eyes and took a step forwards, held out his hoof. "I'm Glint," he said.
The other took his hoof and shook it, lowering his spear momentarily. "Silver Skies."
"You're not a pegasus," the changeling observed.
"I, uh...guess my parents just liked the sky or something? I couldn't tell you."
"Well, Silver Skies," the changeling said with a grin, "I think we both need to get back to our respective sides. Still, this momentary respite was nice."
Hesitantly, Silver let go of Glint's hoof and nodded. "All right. Try not to get yourself killed."
"Right back at you," he countered with a wink. "Maybe after all this is said and done, we can get a coffee together."
"I'd like that." Silver Skies grinned. "See you around!"
They both left each-other, continuing to fight for their purposes. Silver, for the protection of Canterlot and the princess and the elements. Glint, for his queen – and the promise of an endless bounty of love that would free his people from the shackles of poverty and starvation forever. For the hope of a brighter tomorrow.
When the blast came, Silver watched as thousands of changelings were thrown into the sky – soaring into the distance until they were nought more than specks, and then were gone entirely. Somewhere music began, and ponies began to cheer. They came out of their homes, relieved that it was finally over. The ponies swarmed all around him, cheering and singing songs, thrusting their spears into the air with a resounding hoorah. Carts laden with food were being pushed out onto the cobblestone streets, kegs of cider were being hauled up from musty cellars, taps hammered into them. Crowds were gathering around these, mugs being passed about to the exhausted and wounded soldiers that had fought to protect their home.
Throughout all this, Silver stood in the midst of the crowd, like a drop in the ocean. He stared at the sky and knew he should have been glad for the victory, should have been celebrating with the rest of them.
He turned into an alleyway and quietly disappeared.
