“Where's Thorax gone?”
The tower above us exploded, raining white marble bricks and gilded roof tiles onto the cobbled street below. Ponies screamed, and ran about in all directions.
“I don't know, sir!” shouted Pharynx. “He was right behind us.”
“Shit! Shit shit shit.” I turned around, taking in the chaos of an invasion gone wrong. I couldn't help growling in frustration. “How are we supposed to hit key targets in this mess?”
“It's the other hives, sir. They're not following the chain of command.”
Who could have predicted that launching a massive invasion on the ponies' capital city with an army of changelings from a dozen different hives, half of them not even loyal to us, would lead to a breakdown in discipline like this?
Well… anybody. Most of us had an inkling something like this would happen. If only we thought the tyrant would listen, any one of us could have told her.
“Pharynx, do you still have that map?”
“Yes, sir.” He pulled a street map of Canterlot from his saddlebags and laid it out on the cobbles, and we all leaned in to see. It must have seemed surreal to the panicking ponies, to see a cluster of fearsome changeling warriors crouched over a street map in the middle of the battle.
“Is that the bath house over there?”
“No, wait… the fruit market's north of here, so the bath house must be… behind this wall here. Which would put the opera house over that way?”
Canterlot is an old town that's been rebuilt countless times over the years, leaving it full of twisting alleyways and nonsensical layouts. It's all but impenetrable for any creature not familiar with its streets. I was one more wrong turn away from just stopping a passing pony and asking them for directions to the opera house. With menaces, of course.
Petiole fluttered down to us. “I think it's over there, sir. You see the big blue dome?”
“Good enough for me. Come on, everyling, we're flying to that blue dome. Stay in formation. And remember, keep your eyes peeled for our targets.” They each replied in the affirmative as we took to the air.
(Insert some other scenes)
I awoke in pain. For a time I tried to identify the source of the pain, but quickly gave up since the answer seemed to be 'everything'. The light hurt my eyes when I opened them, then again when I closed them.
It was evening, judging by the colour of the light filtering through the trees. The leaves were moving in the breeze.
Standing up proved to be complicated by the presence of a sharp stone across which my limp body had been draped, but I managed it. For all the pain shooting up and down all my limbs, I had remarkably few actual injuries. My wings were too crumpled to bear my weight, so I hobbled to the top of a bluff, hoping to get my bearings.
I stood for a moment, distracted by how pretty the pony lands were, so near their capital. Rolling fields, scenic streams and waterfalls, curved stone bridges, neat cut paths. I could still see Canterlot perched atop the cliff, pouring a torrent of cooling water into a pool below.
I turned away from the shining city. Whatever our fate now, I knew it wouldn't be in Canterlot. That battle was lost.
I followed a scent of hunger, and soon found the source. Another changeling had fallen through the branches of a tree and landed in a crumpled heap between its roots. I assumed the rest of the swarm must be in a similar state, scattered across the landscape. Those who survived would scatter. How many of them would limp back to the tyrant, and how many would just disappear into the pony population? We might never have a full accounting.
The changeling was alive, though badly hurt. He looked how I felt, in fact, and I watched as an arc of pink magic flashed across his body, making him arch his back in renewed pain.
The pony princess's magic still lingered. That, at least, I could do something about. I stepped forwards and lit my horn, pushing past the pain to pour what little magic I had into him. With a soft puff of pink smoke, the pony magic was expelled from his body. He gasped, then began breathing more evenly.
“Th– thank you, sir,” he said shakily, rising to a sitting position.
“It's Thorax, isn't it?”
He nodded. “Aren't you hurt too, sir?”
“Sure, I am,” I admitted. “We're both pretty much drained. We'll need to see what we can harvest on the way back to the hive.”
“MONSTERS!”
Talk of Discord, and he appears.
There was a pony standing between the trees, a young green mare. She brandished a shovel in her mouth, and was visibly trembling.
“Don't move!” she shouted though the handle.
Neither of us moved. We hadn't the energy for it honestly. The pony stepped closer, one step at a time, keeping her weapon up.
“I don't—”
“Shut up! You're… you're monsters!”
She smelled of fear, of course; worry, frantic panic and just a hint of jealousy. There were tears at the corners of her big pony eyes, and her weapon wavered.
She reached close enough to hold the shovel blade near my head. Calmly and slowly, I lifted my hoof and pushed the weapon aside. She looked confused, and her eyes turned to the side, following my hoof.
I lit my horn in a flash, and caught her mind in my magic. She fought me all the way down into her dreams.
The face of a stallion emerged, sky blue with a dark blue mane and a huge grin. He had a tender voice that made promises. Memories emerged of him walking side by side with another mare – with other mares. Arguments, tears, running, reconciliation, shame.
This mare was so awash with love that she didn't know what to do with it all. I would have loved to sip it gently over weeks, drawing out the best aspects of the flavour, but needs must. Instead I drank as I never had before, letting the vacuum within me fill. The mare's wail of pain subsided as she dropped to the grass with a glassy expression, barely breathing.
My joints popped, my chitin stretched back into shape. I took a deep breath and spread my tattered wings, the holes in them filling in as the power of that mare's love spread through me.
I turned back to Thorax, who'd watched this quietly. He had a confused, pitiful expression; even more than usual.
“Come on,” I said. “It's a long way back to the hive, and I don't plan to wait around for the ponies to find us.”
He hesitated. "Will she be alright?"
I shrugged. "I took most of what she's got. She'll probably survive. Won't be moving for a few days, enough for us to be getting back."
Thorax still had years to go on his training before he would be ready for a war like this. I wouldn't normally have brought such a young warrior on any actual missions.
But then, the tyrant didn't ask.
A few miles down the road, I paused in my limping, and discovered that Thorax was gone. I scanned the sky, and found a retreating speck in the distance. Going the wrong way.
He wouldn't survive long, starved as he was. I turned back to the hive.