Love is Worth the Struggle
Manehattan was a city brimming with energy one summer day. The wide, paved streets were filled with important ponies dressed in fancy suits and making their way to whatever meeting or affair was on the docket for the day. The taxi service was busy as always, carrying passengers with all speed up the roads, splashing water in the way of passersby. The warm, summer air was filled with the sounds of conversation and the percussive music of the city streets.
But for all this, there was no one more energetic than a cobalt-blue unicorn mare, in the prime of her youth, finding her way through the array of sights and sounds. Though her step was slow, her face was beaming with excitement as her eyes darted back and forth between a map she held in her magical grasp and the countless skyscrapers surrounding her. Her smile was wider and happier than a filly’s at a candy shop. The sweet scent of cinnamon wafted to her nose as she passed a local coffee shop, where the high end ponies were chatting. To her delighted eyes, the light from the noonday sun cast colorful reflections from an art museum’s stained glass windows. She took note of each and every place, every one of which was marked perfectly on the parchment before her; and her journey seemed to go on forever through the metropolis, much to her mounting enjoyment.
Yet for all the life and the excitement to be had, they were not everywhere present. Another unicorn’s hooves fell on the sidewalks with a distinct lack of pep. There was a stallion making his way aimlessly around, not paying attention to any of the sights. His coat was dark blue, much darker than the mare’s, and he wore no clothing but his fur. His short, black mane made him inconspicuous among the mire of color and light.
Weariness was plastered across his face, as though he had missed out on a great deal of sleep without the help of coffee or sugar. His eyes wandered around in at the sights, not focusing on anything in particular. He saw a pegasus stallion with his lover, embracing her when they met. There were earth ponies playing hopscotch and cheering when they reached the end of the game. None of these things seemed to be of interest to him.
Somewhere in the long course of their journeys, the mare and the stallion neared one another, crossing paths. There was no change at first; their approaches upon one another were indistinguishable from any others in the crowd. But somewhere in the abysmal mire of the stallion’s perception, there was an anomaly. He looked up with a look of curiosity on his face. While it may not have been clear to an outside observer why this particular stallion would be aware of someone such as her or take any specific notice, his senses were nonetheless perplexed. He looked around, intent on discovering the source. The feeling grew stronger, as though he were a hungry person, seeking the source of a pleasant aroma.
Then his eyes fell upon her, a unicorn walking on the other side of the road. The sunlight fell on her brilliant, white mane, braided into a neat, long ponytail; and the red jewel of an amulet around her neck glittered in her presence. Her blue coat was warmed by a dark green cloak draped over her withers. She was a ways off still, but as she approached him unknowingly, the feeling grew even stronger still. He took a step onto the pavement.
A gust of wind thrust upon him as a taxi cart sped past, narrowly missing his muzzle. “Watch where you’re going, ya jerk!” the cab driver shouted as he put distance between them. The stallion breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, looking both ways this time, he cantered across the street to the other side. The mare had found her way past his parallel position now, and he followed behind her. She continued, oblivious to him, lost in her wonderland of sightseeing.
“You appear to be enjoying the scenery a good deal for a lone mare in a crowded city,” a masculine voice came, snapping her out of her reverie. He had come to her left side and was now keeping her pace, staring at her with emerald eyes.
She noticed her new companion with a little jump of surprise, but she quickly flashed a friendly smile at him. “Oh, yes. I love every bit of this grand city,” she answered. Her voice was soft and melodious, rising and falling with the unmistakable accent of a refined Canterlot lady. Before anything else, she came to a stop and faced the stallion. “It never gets old no matter how many times I visit. This is actually my half-dozenth time, you know.”
“Is that so?” he asked. “I myself have never been here before. Would you mind if I came with you on your trip?” His voice returned to contrast heavily with hers. Though he was quite understandable, there was a noticeable mix of domestic and foreign accents in his voice.
She smiled happily at the prospect. “Oh, that would be no trouble whatsoever! I can show you all the best places. You'll never have a better sight-seeing expedition, I guarantee it!" After a moment of intensity, she appeared to remember something suddenly. "Oh! How very rude of me... I should introduce myself before I go dragging you all over!" She bowed her head gracefully in introduction. "My name is Wanderlust."
The stallion smiled at the sound of her name. Wanderlust, he thought. It reminds one of the Romantic Age. “That’s a native name to this region; but mine, on the other hoof, isn’t probably what you’re used to: Dexion ek Dunamis.” His emerald eyes returned to gaze into her bright green ones. “It’s different, but like yours, it has its own meaning.”
Wanderlust placed her hoof to her chin and glanced upward in ponderous thought, recalling the vast number of names she had heard in the past. "Oh, my.... You're certainly right. It sounds quite foreign to me indeed." Not wishing to seem rude, however, she did not push the fact further.
The pause of silence between the two extended for what may have to some been an awkward length, but soon Dexion offered, “Well, shall we continue then? I'm assuming re-exploring the city might be more interesting than musing on the strangeness of my name.”
"Indeed, let us proceed!" Without skipping a beat, she wheeled about in place, kicking her front legs merrily in the process. She led on in a brisk trot. She rolled up the map, which she had been casually levitating until then and set it into the pocket of her cloak, as if she hadn’t needed it for navigation all along.
Quickly, Wanderlust darted with quick legs to a bright colored, brick edifice, pointing at it excitedly. “Oooh, that over there is a most excellent sandwich shop; can't be beat.” Dexion leapt and raced to keep behind her. “Oh, and that fountain there is one where I met some very interesting ponies gathering,” she exclaimed, pointing to another place opposite the main street. Oh, and over here, let's not forget..."
The mare began rushing this way and that in such a fashion, commanding her companion’s unfailing attention. And this went on, as she led him down many paths and around many bends. I’m starting to wonder if she knows more about this place than the local residents, he soon began to surmise.
The midday sun soon began its descent giving way to the longer afternoon, and the day’s heat wore on and became hotter. So for all the fun Wanderlust appeared to have in her demonstration of the great city, a few beads of sweat found their way to her forehead. A city park was on their left now, teeming with cleanly cut, green grass juxtaposed with the chrome backdrop of their surroundings. With a deep breath and a sigh, she motioned over to the natural area. “Whew. How about we rest here for a moment, dear? It's quite a nice area.”
They made their way over to a flat plot of ground, shaded by a tall and broad tree, which was practically beckoning for somepony to come and rest under it. Wanderlust lay down first and the stallion followed. "Well," he said, “That was an exciting, detailed account of the city, and given with so much energy no less. You must really love this kind of thing.”
“Oh, very much so,” she replied. “There’s always so much to do here.”
“It looks like it’s tiring though,” he remarked.
“Oh no, it's nothing...” Her tone implied a less-than complete truth in her statement. She stretched a bit and then fully relaxed on her stomach. "It's just so peaceful here. Isn't it amazing how they can place such a serene piece of nature right in the middle of all that hustle and bustle going on around it?"
Dexion closed his eyes for a while, as though in deep thought. A cool breeze blew past, pleasant on the warm body. His eyes shifted about behind closed lids, as though he were thinking and feeling, searching. But then for a longer time there was silence again, what seemed to be a mere enjoyment of the day. “The amazing thing,” he said finally opening his eyes to look at his companion, “is even more concentrated and evasive the way I see it. The amazing thing to me is the acquaintance I have now beside me.” His accent was different now, more fluid than the one in which he began.
Wanderlust’s cheeks reddened rapidly, and her eyes opened wider from their relaxed state. “Oh, what a lovely thing to say...” It seemed that she was at a loss for words momentarily, and one might have thought that the use of this new tone, accompanied by his sudden flattery was hypnotic to her, if not merely effective.
“If one were to travel for a thousand leagues in such of one like you,” Dexion continued, “they would fail in their search. If this patch of grass is a palace in the midst of a wasteland, you are a sparkling diamond amidst dust.” His eyes gleamed then. Their emerald color seemed to flare, as though they were a green fire that was being fueled. Yet this occurred for an instant and then went out.
She giggled, partially enjoying the attention, yet also becoming nervous and suspicious. She failed to fully perceive the strange glowing light, but sensed that something was out of place. Without either giving into nor rejecting the straightforward advances, she watched him intently and waited for him to continue.
“You are truly unique,” he went on. “Your very presence was like a beacon of light in this dark city, lighting the way from afar.” His eyes flared again, more noticeably this time; but it was still a hard second to catch. “Have I been a tolerable companion too?” he asked before she had time to inquire of herself as to the cause.
“So poetic and charming…” she smiled back, softly and warm. “Yes, of course, dear. You're far more than ‘tolerable’ yourself.” While she wasn’t about to let a hoofful of compliments completely get the best of her, charmingly-worded as they were, she remained intrigued as to the game they had suddenly found themselves playing.
He smiled back. Then leaning into her face, he asked with a mellifluous voice, “Seeing how this place is unsuitable for your wonder, would you like to go someplace else, perhaps a little more quiet than this bustling block?”
Wanderlust smirked cleverly. Now his aim seemed clearer; but rather than challenge him directly, she knew exactly how to play along. Channelling magic into her horn, she closed her eyes and concentrated for a brief moment. A beam of blue energy shot forth into the air and then spread out, darting back down to form a round shape. With little delay, the unicorn mare had created a magical dome around them. The walls of the dome were opaque, and only a faint, source-less blue light shone from the inside; there was no seeing in or out of it.
Giggling at her success, she turned to look at him, having made her move in the unfolding game. “Hehe! I always have shelter and privacy with me. Never leave home without it.” Truth be told, she did not have intentions of taking the flirtatious behavior to any serious point, but she also felt that she was in no danger alone with her acquaintance within the bubble - after all, she could dismiss it in an instant if desired.
Not seeming to be surprised, Dexion arose and went to the edge of the barrier to touch it. His hoof revealed that the barrier was made of a soft, spongy sort of material, but it did not appear to be very penetrable. “This is impressive,” he said as he turned around. He walked to and sat down next to her with a smirk. “But I’m sure you haven’t even begun to impress me yet.”
She looked back at him with a friendly expression that concealed her cautiousness and perceptiveness. Despite seeming to accept his less-than-subtle advances thus far, she remained suspicious and alert. "Oh, I don't know too many amazing tricks, really...", she responded, feigning a level of obliviousness. "Just enough to survive on my own, you know? Shelter, fighting, carrying lots of stuff..."
“Oh, no?” he asked with a grin. “I think I’ve already hinted there’s much more to you than meets the eye. Talent, they say, is mastered by practice. I wonder if the saying is true.”
She blushed again slightly, rubbing the back of her mane with her hoof. "Well... a tad, I suppose." With another magical flash from her horn, she caused a simple wooden staff to appear as if from nowhere. "I practice with this when I find the time." The staff spun around above her head, slowly and gracefully, narrowly avoiding the dome wall above. "It's saved my life too many times to count."
His eyes affixed on the staff and saw the skill with which she wielded it. And for a split-second his expression changed, as though he was a clerk to a business pony who had just sat down to a pile of paperwork for the day. A sigh in the same manner escaped his lips. Yet then, stretching out his legs, he smiled pleasantly again. Looking her in the eyes, he said, “Tell me Wanderlust, have you ever heard the phrase that nothing is worth having, if it isn’t worth fighting for?”
Wanderlust nodded slightly. “Certainly.” She adopted a quizzical look, trying to understand the context of the question. "Why do you ask?" Her staff righted itself vertically and touched down to the ground beside her as she held it in an upright position.
Dexion answered, “There are some people who have no interest in working hard to achieve certain goals, and there are some who have lost heart in trying to achieve them. But when either kind of person is presented with a prize that cannot be refused, the desire to work hard for and even to fight for such a prize comes to even the most cowardly and the most downhearted. Although I have just met you Wanderlust, I believe that you are very much a prize worth fighting for.”
This statement was enough to call her to reel back, taken considerably off-guard despite her caution. "W-Well! I certainly appreciate your kind words, truly, but.... I think perhaps you have the wrong idea." She took a single step back. Not only was he nearing the line in the boldness of his advances, but he mentioned combat as well. Who was he planning to fight to earn her? Did he think she had a special somepony, or was he suggesting that she defend herself in her own name? "If nothing else, there's no fighting needed to be involved here." Instinctively, and in subtle contradiction to her words, her staff floated above her head.
His eyes darted to the risen staff; but less than a second later, he returned his gaze to her, paying no heed to the obvious motion in preparation for self-defense. He took a step forward. "Unfortunately, I beg to differ, my companion. As with every great prize, there are those who seek it, but they never go uncontested. And in the end, it is the agony of that contest which gives the prize its appeal and its glory in the face of all who see it." At this, his eyes flashed with that grand emerald fire from before for a full second and a half.
She gritted her teeth in nervousness and took a step back. Her staff floated down in a blocking position between herself and the stallion. The back of the blue dome touched her, prompting her to quickly take note of her position. Part of her wanted to speak out, but she could not manage words for fear and uncertainty.
A bolt of magic flared up in Dexion’s horn, and a green charge smote the top of the dome. A blackness ebbed at the blue light of the hemisphere Wanderlust had made, licking away the light like a dark fire. Then the barrier had changed. An eerie, red light filled the new space. The surface of the space interior was rougher now, and it made Wanderlust’s fur tingle at the touch. "This is a level four containment field." he said calmly. “It's not the absolute strongest type of magical wall that can be erected, but it will certainly keep us secluded better than your barrier, which I've just replaced... Now" he went on in a low voice. "Why do you think I came to Manehattan?"
The mare attempted to maintain her composure, shivering slightly in the new, unnerving atmosphere. "I'm guessing it wasn't to make friends or flirt with the ladies, I take it..." Her tone had become cold and void of emotion; her eyes squinted into focus. She set herself into to a strong defensive stance, one that hinted at a wealth of experience in life-or-death situations. Her muscles tensed up, ready to move at a moment's notice.
“Equestria is teeming with love now,” he said. “For my country folk, that means it’s a new frontier. There are many new targets to be found, many of them teeming with love. Some of those we’re going to leave alone, but others— my country sends people like me to bring them back. I’ve been in that business for a long time, and you have more love in you than I’ve ever seen in a pony. Simply put, either I’m taking you back, or I’m going to have to be here forever. Here’s my invitation to you then to explore a new place.” He spoke plainly without betraying much emotion.
“You sound so smug,” she retorted. “If it were really so simple as being invited to someplace and traveling there, I'd be more than happy....” Her face fully tensed into an aggressive scowl. “But as it stands, I'm not going anywhere with you!” Her hoof pawed at the dirt like a bull patiently waiting the moment to charge.
“Easy there,” he said holding his hooves up. “This doesn’t have to come to blows. I don’t want to fight you, and I’m sure you don’t want to fight a guy that’s been doing this for longer than you’ve been alive. I’m kind of a legend where I come from. Let’s negotiate.” He did not speak as though he were patronizing her. Dexion was serious.
She waited for a long moment; the tension of the atmosphere was high. "...I'm listening..." She breathed deeply, relaxing only slightly.
“I’ve been an agent of the changeling military for some time, Wanderlust,” Dexion admitted. “During that time, I’ve met a lot of mares that I had to take against their will, but you’re the first one that I can’t just take without a second thought. I’m damn good at my job, but I’m not here on orders. I’m here because I wanted to be.”
Wanderlust began to shake furiously at the fearful idea that she might be in over her head. Her confidence in her own ability was waning. She looked around at the dome again, only now realizing the harsh implications of the prison. “W-What do you want with me, then?...” She continued to fidget about, now less in aggression and more in nervousness. Her weapon continued to hover defensively, despite her weakened will to wield it.
“I don’t know now,” he admitted. “I came here to get the best score I could or die. The problem for me is that you’re it.” There was a tone of bitterness in his voice, as though he took considerable displeasure in saying this. “I can’t do it. There’s something about you that won’t let me take you by force. So you and I are in this together now, and you get a say in the matter. Are you going to come with me?”
“Hmmph!” she shook her head sharply, defying him. “You've admitted being a kidnapper and a dangerous fiend. You can act like gentlecolt all you wish, but there is no chance I will trust you!” For better or worse, logic or foolhardiness, there was no willingness to negotiate within her. She readied herself once more, now steaming with rage. “You've mistaken me for someone soft and submissive.” Bounding forward with a fearsome shout, she dashed toward the stallion, whom she could now perceive only as an enemy. Her staff swung in a wide arc, moving with a slightly different timing than the body of its controller, as well as going substantially ahead of her for protection.
Seeing the attack coming, he quickly dodged the staff by falling back with surprising speed. His back touched the wall in the sphere, but he had cleared a comfortable gap out of range. His expression suddenly showed immense concentration. Then a visible green vector shot forward from his horn.
She attempted to both dodge and block at the same time, leaping sideways while positioning her staff to take the force of the attack. After the blast impacted her weapon, she looked back at it to judge how effective it had held up against the attack, or what effect it might have had. A green aura now held up the staff, as though he were levitating it simply. He tugged his horn sideways, and with far more force and speed than Wanderlust had expected, an invisible force of great magnitude threw the staff away to hit the other end of the dome. Before there was time to discover what had happened, another magical tendril flew towards her.
The mare desperately tried to find her next move, unsure of how to attack such a foe. As she saw the next blast coming straight for her, her panicked condition caused the slightest hesitation, which proved damning. She was struck directly by the vector, making her scream out in uncertainty and terror. The magical hold spread over her entire body and paralyzed her every movement. Her vision became covered with a brownish color amid the green and red tint.
Genuinely surprised that he scored a hit so quickly and easily, Dexion’s eyes opened wide. "Is that all? You jump to violence and go down that quick?" He raised his right hoof and thrust it in a downward motion. A great force then pushed her to the ground onto her stomach, causing her to cry out. Fear took hold completely as she struggled futilely against the magic. She had not been prepared for anything of the like of which had been brought against her within the sudden crimson prison. Thoughts and emotions ran wild through her mind; feelings of rage, of desperation, of helplessness. She wished more than anything else to lash out at her enemy's taunts, to scold her own lack of ability, and to cry out at her situation. Powerless to do any of those things, she could only grunt in pain as she hit the ground. She tensed and strained with every muscle, not sure of what she could even accomplish if she did resist, but wanted only to move.
Dexion dropped to his rear as he looked at his restrained captive, who was now glaring at him with the most obvious mix of fear and rage and disgust. A thousand familiar images flashed through his head, and he remembered he had seen this face more times than he could count. “I know you hate me,” he said to her quietly. “That much I deserve. I’m doing a terrible thing.” He sighed. There was another pause of silence between them, aside from her frantic attempts to escape her bonds. “My country has been starving for so long though, and there has to be some sort of hope for them, even if it comes through this kind of evil.” Through his volition, the magical hold pulled back from her face, giving her ability to move her body from her mouth up to her eyes.
She growled in fury, unable to feel any compassion or understanding. "You won't get away with this!" was all she could manage in complete reflex, immediately realizing the unfoundedness of her claim after saying it and searching her mind for an excuse on how it might have possibly been true. Her eyes stared at him with unbridled hatred, unpenetrated by his appeal. She viewed him as nothing more than a monstrous parasite.
Her words seemed to cut to his heart, as cheesy as they may have seemed to anypony else, and he appeared deeply affected. “No, I suppose I won’t,” he said again. “Even if I do bring you back to Hellas, I’ve still failed. I’ve done this a thousand times, and it’s never made anything better. My family has died; my friends have died; and now the youth of my home city have died trying to take your capital. And I couldn’t do anything to help them. Even with all the love you have, nothing will change.” He cleared his throat. “Those eyes of yours, the ones that hate me for everything that I did, I get them. They hate me for good reason. I just don’t know why it always had to be this way.”
Wanderlust’s eyes. devoid of compassion, did not visibly change, yet it would be wrong to say that she wasn’t listening on at least some subconscious level. There was some amount of sympathy and understanding, buried amidst the intense torrent, but none she could understand or bring herself to accept. It only served to confuse her, and further fuel her frustration. She struggled and strained harder and harder against the magical force, but no amount of effort allowing her to budge an inch. She only managed to exhaust her muscles. She cried out in exertion, in fury, in despair, and in a storm of emotions she could not name, none of them restraint or submission. Then finally, able to struggle no further, she found herself giving up in a final, heavy release. Her face dropped fully to the floor; her body relaxed, and her mind became entirely numb.
Recognizing her cessation of movement as the familiar devastation of morale, he sighed and spoke again. “Having said all of that, I can’t just do nothing. My queen probably thinks I’ve gone here on a real mission now for all the time I’ve been gone. And more are dying while I wait and do nothing. If all changelings are going to die, I’m not going home to my queen to tell her I’m just quitting. It’s not that easy.” He put his face in front of hers. “I ask you again, what shall I do?” Again he emphasized that she had a choice in the matter in some weird, unseen way.
She closed her eyes, looking further down to the best of her ability. Her face focused on the dirt. “...do what you will...” was her response, her emotional defenses fully risen. "...I can't stop you, whatever you decide..." Her spirit was clearly wounded, and she boasted her final act of defiance in her refusal to answer or acknowledge the creature's questions.
His eyes emerald green eyes glowed as he gazed at her. For a long while, he looked her over. After some time, his voice came out smoothly and softly. “I’ve seen this scene all too many times. It’s not an easy sight, but you grow numb to the cries for mercy after a while. There is no way to be a changeling in service of the queen without denying personhood. Yet I’ve never actually gone through with what I’m considering right now. I haven’t ever denied sustenance except for once, the very first time I was forced to feed, and kill my closest and only friend.” There was a pause once more. “And for some reason, you remind me so much of that friend who helped me when I was imprisoned in my own country, for no just reason.”
She opened her eyes and looked about in uncertainty. Her anger was thawing, and the male’s words were beginning to reach her, yet she was still left only with only more confusion. "I...", she started, before realizing she didn’t know how to continue. The utterance of that one word told a powerful story; her voice was already more reminiscent of her soft tone from earlier. She looked back to the other individual. Her warmer yet still saddened expression spoke volumes, attempting to answer the question on its own.
“When you live your life, trying to atone for a mortal evil, when you wake up every day, knowing that whatever you do, it won’t be good enough to make things right again— Glory sometimes masks the pain, but it never lasts … You are like her, the one who saved my life. That’s why I can’t take you back. Now I have to return the favor,” he concluded.
His horn lit up, and he fired a blast of energy at her, but nothing seemed to change. “That will simulate the hold I had on you for one-and-a-half minutes.” Suddenly, a black cloud and a ball of green electricity surrounded him, and the stallion was no more. In his place was an older changling, covered head to hoof in scars. His eyes were shut, and Wanderlust could tell they would not open. His wings and horn were gone, and left were depressions in his body. Most noticeably, he was missing a leg.
She was left looking on, literally incapable of performing any action other than staring at the scene before her. The grim silence and the stillness of the atmosphere caused her to ache in ways she couldn't have imagined before this moment. She began to form regrets - a great many regrets - about everything that had unfolded up to that point. Her own silence now haunted her. “Dexion...” she spoke quietly, identifying the deformed creature before her with the same name as the friend she had shared a happy walk with.
His voice, unlike his body was very strong and carried similarly to the voice he had just moments ago. "This is what you might call my 'true form' and it has sustained all of the injuries accumulated over the course of twenty years of service. In this state, I should be just weak enough that you'll have a fair handicap. In about forty seconds now the spell will end. When that spell ends, you can fight me, and you can wound me, and I'll leave with a failed mission. It's fair that way."
"Y-You.... You've got to be joking!" she blurted out. As if in an instant, the entire situation, her entire mindset— as if the entire world itself— had all been reversed. Perhaps she should have felt great relief at such a proposal, which promised her release that she had been begging for only seconds ago. Yet the plan only disgusted her. Somehow, the creature wishing harm upon itself entirely changed the context of their engagement. She wiggled and wrestled against her bonds once more, not at all trying to free herself, but dreading their inevitable disappearance. "I won't do it!" Her determined voice hid her own understanding of her hypocritical nature, which she avoided addressing.
“Do you have an alternative?” he asked with a steady voice. “You’re not going to just start waltzing around with me now that I’ve threatened you, and I’m not about to leave without something decisive. But if you’re afraid to do it with your own hooves…” quick as lightning he resumed the form of a unicorn, casted a spell, and then took back the deformed changeling guise. A white spear with a red tip fell to the ground a foot in front of her. The weapon looked to be masterfully crafted and seemed to radiate light. “If you use this spear, you don’t have to get your hooves dirty.”
She looked down at the weapon, a bit in awe of its regal appearance and obvious value. Her eyes fixed on it curiously. "What does it do? Is it magical, or powerful?" She hastily expelled her question, knowing that she only had seconds before she was freed to make her decision.
He looked down even though his eyes are shut. Smiling, he said simply, “It’s just a normal spear,” and fell silent.
Her mind was spinning, and she found her unwanted freedom to indeed come too soon. Before she was even fully aware of it, the light around her had faded and her hooves hit solid ground. Her entire body felt heavy and tired, with none of the grace or power from when she first struck forth. She looked to the spear, and unconsciously grabbed ahold of it with her magic, looking at it awkwardly. She looked to the changeling, then back at her new weapon. Heavy with hesitation, she sighed and began to ready herself.
The three-legged changeling prepared himself also, ready for the impending engagement and the immense pain which would most surely follow. With this, he thought, I will be free. Being blind, he listened attentively, hearing the sound of the spear being raised. He bent his knees.
The blue-coated mare shook in anticipation. A plan had formed in secret in her mind, but her judgement had not been afforded the time to properly weigh its prudency. She was incredibly unsure, yet was unwilling to back down from the decision she had somehow made within the previous half-second. "Changelings are all great liars, aren't they?" She felt guilt over the implications, yet agreed to herself that it was an obvious trait, core to their very nature.
There were no less than three alleged facts holding together this nightmare; it was only a matter of which one had to collapse.
With a roaring shout, she spun around and thrusted the weapon with all her magical might— not at her foe, but at the barrier wall. She winced and closed her eyes in anticipation, praying for any of her assumptions to come to pass.
Knowing what had transpired despite his blindness, Dexion looked toward the impact site where spear and barrier would meet. "Oh damn!" There was a tremendous sound and an explosion of dust and dirt accompanied by a flash of blinding light. When the dust cleared, the remaining daylight shined on the two with no trace of the magical dome.
Wanderlust felt the sunlight through her eyelids, opening them wide with a gasp. Her face was covered in a cold sweat, almost as if she really had awoken from a terrible nightmare. She tempered her breathing as she looked around the scene. The big city - the one she knew so well, so familiarly. It had only been a few minutes, but it felt as though it had been an age since she had seen it. Glancing around, it became apparent that dozens of citizens and passers-by were staring at the scene, perhaps having already gathered around the bubble before it shattered.
The weapon had been thrown beyond Wanderlust’s grasp. Several yards out, there was now a crater, five feet in diameter, with the spear sticking out the ground in the center. Seeing that he was compromised, Dexion immediately took the form of a pegasus of the same color scheme and followed the uninterrupted flight path of the weapon. Wanderlust, turning to her companion, saw that he had already taken a defensive disguise. The two were now in the middle of the crowded city, watched by all eyes. Her plan had worked, her prayers answered... but how could this play out now?
Instantly, knowing he wouldn't want to stand around and explain what they had been doing in a level four containment field to the city guard, who would no doubt be soon arriving at the sound of the explosion, he lunged forward to take the spear in his mouth. Through gritted teeth, he spun around and said to his companion, "You could have at least scratched me." And he flared his wings to take off and flee.
She instinctively reached out with her hoof, wanting to shout out, Wait! ...but why did she want him to wait? She knew the consequences of what she had done, and those consequences were all she had hoped for. She had won, saving her own life and perhaps those of any others the pony-napping creature might have gotten away with. Yet there was without a doubt a measure of guilt for so thoroughly wounding the changeling’s pride in place of his flesh. And so, she simply stood there, hoof outstretched in a half-completed, confused motion.
Dexion took off and quickly gained altitude. When he reached a good height, he stole towards the city limits. Fortunately for him, the guard had had no time to mobilize and Manehattan was not a walled city, so he soon made his way at a great speed away from her sight.
Author's Note
This was published without a proofreader or editor's contributions. If anyone would like to fill either role for future chapters, message me.
