In the Arms of an Angel

by Super Trampoline

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Slice of Life, Sad, Drama
Length: 800

Fluttershy comforts a dying mercenary on a field of war.

She was fighting to protect the ponies she loved, doing her best to bring a touch of kindness to the cruel battlefield. He was fighting for a better life, a hired pawn in a war he knew and cared little about. Now fate has united them under grim circumstances, but for a few moments, perhaps they can keep each other company.

Dedicated to Present Perfect and Admiral Biscuit. They inspired this in a really roundabout way.

A hearty thank you to my Patreon patrons Singularity Dream, ocalhoun, and Littlecolt!

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-11-19 18:53:17 UTC

Pulled From the Wreckage

Dinner Dash was going to die. This he was fully convinced of, for around him from all angles came angry blasts of thaumic energy, vengeful volleys of swift arrows, ravenous swarms of parasprites, and the otherworldly shriek of mortar shells. Those were supposed to be illegal. The GELPNO (Greater Equus, Let's Play Nice, Okay?) Treaty was signed into law 576 years ago. After the catastrophic destruction witnessed during the War of Daisies and Oats, even the most callous of nations recognized the need to ban guns and cannons of all calibers. The diamond dogs were signatories, and now they were blatantly violating the terms of the agreement. Perhaps this meant that they were getting desperate. But Dinner Dash was pretty sure it just meant he was going to die. Weeeeeeeeeee BOOM! He yelped as fountains of dirt sprayed into the air not twenty yards behind him, suddenly wished his history degree had taught him less about the minutia of historical battles and more about surviving the current one. He whipped his head around wildly, trying to pinpoint where the artillery was coming from. A hoof and part of a pastern landed in front of him. He stared at it, horrified. This was not war. This was Tartarus.

"Sir! Their pegasi are sniping our artillery units with lightning bolts. Our dogs are sitting ducks!

"Dog dammit ! The changelings are supposed to be engaging their air force. What the fetch is happening?!"

"They are engaging! But the Equestrians all have some sort of shield or energy coating that's absorbing unseelie magic. Our intel warned us of this! Colonel, my mutts are taking heavy loses! We have to retreat."

Several miles from where Dinner Dash stood gaping, ensconced in a bunker hidden to all but the sharpest of eyes, Colonel Boxer surveyed the scene through a tiny slit in the hillside. An angry scowl had commandeered his face, and his jowls only accented it. He was a proud canine of the finest pedigree, and he was here today because his ancestors refused to rollover and play dead. But though he was stubborn to a fault, he wasn't stupid. The scene before him was threatening to become a massacre. There was only one responsible option. That didn't mean he had to like it.

"You're right, Mr. Scruffles. This is not our day." He pulled a gem-encrusted kibble bone from his vest and handed it to the major. "Good boy."

Mr. Scruffles barked excitedly and scampered off with the treat, tail wagging. Boxer however, somberly turned to the semaphore team. "I'm calling off the offensive. Signal a retreat to the Mourning Woods. The trees should provide some cover." They rushed off to comply. Boxer was left alone save for the sycophantic Sybil.

"G-g-gee, Colonel, why th-the long face?"

"My mother was a bloodhound. Now if you want to be useful, fetch me the latest field report."

"Of course, of course, of course!" the lanky thing yipped, skittering away. Boxer slumped down whimpering, ashamed by the dog and pony show playing out beyond the bunker. Before he could even scritch the flees behind his ears, Sybil had returned, the report slathered with slobber. She was a try-hard, but at least she was loyal.

"Thank you, Sybil." Boxer stoically rolled the papers up, then viciously thwacked himself on the head. "Bad dog! Bad, bad dog!"

Windy Mae

Dog whistle

But I wasn't prepared for this!"

I'm a baker! I thought I'd be feeding the troops, not shooting down changelings! Shut your traphole, and use the frolicking spell like we taught you to,

You speak Germane?

Kindness is a universal language.

tendrles of sickly green flame ooze and flicker at the end of twisted black fibrles of chitin.

They almst ground me up into mincemeat after i was hatched.

So when the Diamond Dogs sent out the call for paid soldiers, well, I thought I would finally get my  chance to be a here. And look wher I am  now.

Why are you doing all this for me? I'm dying."

She smiles sweetly, softly, and a little sadly. "I know you're dying. That's why I'm here.

and her love is milky and rich and creamy and soft and all the warm smooth adjectives in the world rolled into one soothing salve of love.

what are you doing out here fighting in this ugly war?

What are you doing?

Well negative one, can I be your negative two?

And I daresay, for the first and last time in my life, I feel true peace. I smile.

Her love soothes and fills me, and I begin to

Drift away

So sleepy now, so warm and sleepy

Drift away

Everything fades

Drift away

Drift away

Drift away

Drift away

In the arms of an angel.