Big Macintosh looked up from the dirt path that was taking him out of town and home to Sweet Apple Acres. He came from his, Spike and Discord’s latest adventure in Spiketopia. It had been a good run tonight, all things considered. The small hamlet of Emberance had been terrorized by the evil highwaydragon Trashble, who had sworn allegiance to the evil Squizard. Luckily for Dragon Duchess Rebme, the trio of brave and virtuous adventurers had been able to defeat the dragon crook and been rewarded with a kiss from the Duchess, as well as the legendary sword Smexcalibur. They would need it next week for the assalut on Sombrero’s empire.
He would be the one to wield the legendary sword. With his magic.
Magic that he did not have.
Despite the beautiful night and the fact that he was walking home from an evening spent in good companionship, Big Mac sighed.
Sure, it was overwhelming to sit there at the table and listen to how he sliced through monsters left and right with his powerful blade and deflected mortal blows with a steadfast shield, but oh how dejected he felt after. That was the time when he remembered a simple fact about their game.
The fact that it was all in his head.
He was, as all those of his clan, an earth pony. A strong, reliable apple farmer. If anypony asked, he would say that he had never reflected over his race, that he had always been an earth pony and never thought twice about that. It was a queer thing to dwell on, after all; it was not as if anything could change it.
Still, he was not the Element of Honesty. He did not have some strange magic on him that prevented him from lying, even if his sister might have. So he could, and would, say that he had never reflected over being something other than an earth pony even if that was not true.
He came to the outskirts of Sweet Apple Acres and took a deep breath of the healthy air that only the apple trees from his orchard could produce. Out of habit he threw a glance at the branches and saw the ripe, red fruit hanging heavy from the trees, ready to be bucked and made into cider, apple sauce and assorted baked goods. He should probably look over the grindstone tomorrow. They would need it for cider season.
Cider season. That was when it had begun. That fateful day last year, when the two salesponies came to town with their metal-and-magic contraption.
That was the first time he had seen it. The wonders of magic.
He knew he was a strong pony, even by earth pony standards. No other pony in his family had a chance of moving the grindstone. Nopony aside from him could make cider, they simply were not strong enough. Those two unicorns though, they had somehow done it.
With a quiet thought, they had done what no unicorn should be able to. He had always thought all unicorns could do was levitating stuff and, in rare cases, teleport short distances. While that was interesting and all, he had never really cared much. Levitation was a poor substitute for his earth pony strength.
But those two brothers had proved him wrong. They were just two, and yet they had produced cider of seemingly decent quality at three times the speed he could, even if he had the apples delivered to him.
From that day on, unicorn magic was far, far more than a minor detail in his life. He found a new respect for it, he wanted to know what it was. How could something so… ethereal be so powerful? He had always considered magic something beyond this world, something that existed solely for it own existence. Magic, put simply, was something for unicorn professors to discuss, experiment with and ponder, but in the end it was just a curiosity, a toy for unicorns with to much time on their hooves.
Those two salesponies had dashed all such ideas. They gave him proof that magic was, in every sense of the word, just as real and as practical as a hammer or shovel. It was definitely not some otherworldly trinket.
Big Mac had never been the most avid reader, but the day after the salesponies left, he had gone to Twilight’s library and burrowed a book on unicorn history. He wanted to know just what their magic could do. If it could make stones hover and turn apples to cider, then where was the limit? With enough ingenuity behind it, could magic cause water to flow uphill or give earth ponies wings?
Every page in that book filled him with wonder. There did not seem to be an end to magic’s usefulness. It could make apples grow in winter. It could pick the apples of dozens of trees at the same time.
Or, why stop there? While magic alone was a powerful force, combined with other sciences it almost became eerie. Clearly, with proper mechatronics it could pick apples, process them, and tap the cider into barrels while he relaxed on a couch. In one book, some unicorn professor even stated that nothing prevented a pony from going back in time if the correct spell could be found.
He would say that he never reflected on being something other than an earth pony, but that was not true. He could not really explain it, but the more he saw of the shimmering magic, the more interested he became.
And one day it did not seem like such a bad deal to substitute his strength for unicorn magic. Just think of all he could do. With a spellbook and hard work, he could do practically anything. Every time he read, it became clear that with ingenuity and magic, one could do anything.
Big Mac’s lips curled upwards slightly. All things he could do! All the wonders he could provide for his family and friends! If he could make an automatic apple picker, or improve the taste or hardiness of his crops, then Sweet Apple Acres would surely enjoy some good profits. He could give his little sister the best education in the world, he could fix up their farm top to bottom and hire some farmhooves to give Granny Smith an easier time.
If only he had been a unicorn, else he could not run any advanced machinery. His smile fell again.
Worst part was that, twice now, he had been able to live his dream, at least to some extent. On a weekly basis he could now be a unicorn thanks to Discord’s magic and Spike’s imagination. Those few hours were something of the he looked forward to every week. From the moment he stepped out of Twilight’s castle to the next time he stepped in, he longed for those few hours when his dream once again could be real, and he could be who he silently wanted to be. Not an adventurer, not a powerful and virtuous knight, but a unicorn.
Then there was that night.
He could not understand what had happened, but he knew it must have been a dream that he somehow remembered impeccably well. He was with all of Ponyville and Princess Luna herself. Together they had fought the bizarre smoky-pony-nightsky-alicorn-monster or something and, strangest of all, he could control his own dream.
He was an alicorn for one night. For one night and one night only, he had more magic than he had ever imagined, and all he had been allowed to do was disintegrating some flying muffins into their basic elementary particles.
It felt just like he had imagined. Magic flowing in his every vein, the feeling, the knowledge that nothing was impossible, that he could repay his family and friends for the good they had done him by doing something wonderful for them.
All to soon did he wake up. The dream was just long enough to give him a lasting taste for the tantalizing magic, then he woke up.
”Heya, brother!” Applebloom called from the side of the road. His little sisted went up beside him. ”Been at… the secret place again?”
”Eeyup.”
”Ah’ve been havin’ an evenin’ meetin’ with the Cutie Mark Crusaders, to plan the upcoming Runnin’ of the Leaves.”
Big Mac smiled at his little sister’s excitement. This was the first time she would participate in the Running of the Leaves, and she had not stopped talking about it for the last week. Earth pony, alicorn, or unicorn, his sister’s cuteness was the same.
”Say, brother, what were you thinkin’ about?” Applebloom asked curiously. ”You looked so… thoughtful when you came up the road.”
I thought about being a unicorn, and all the things I would be able to do for you, my little sister, and for my grandmother. I know you… might still think highly of me, despite Applejack’ being so much more than me, but… but I don’t. I want to prove to myself that I am needed, that I can take care of you and Granny Smith like she can.
All those things Big Mac did not say.
”Nothing, Apple Bloom. It was nothing important.”
Author's Note
This was something that needed to be done. Might as well be me who does it, thought it became much more philosophical than I first intended.
As always, thoughts and comments mean the world to me. Nothing feels better to an author than knowing he made his readers think about his work.
