Think of the Filli's

by Fillyfoolish

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sad
Length: 1067

After the Ponytones' concert, Big Macintosh visits Zecora for something more personal.

It was Rarity's idea to sing about expressing your voice. It was Rarity's idea for Fluttershy to stand in for Big Macintosh. It was Rarity's idea to see Zecora in the first place.

Maybe Rarity did know more than she let on about what Big Mac needed.

Inspired by far too many fics here to list :pinkiecrazy:

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2017-04-10 03:10:01 UTC

A Brew

♫ Everypony’s sayin’ you should learn to express your voice. But if talk doesn’t seem like it’s the answer, luckily you have a choice ♫

Wishful thinking, Rarity. Just because you were born with a voice that would make Sapphire Shores jealous doesn’t mean everybody else has “a choice” in the matter. Don’t get me wrong – I love being in the Pony Tones. I do “find the music”. For a few minutes at rehearsal, I can forget about my duties as stallion of the Apple farm. Next to you all, I’m just a singer. Sure, I’m a little jealous that you sing like the mares on Bridleway. Maybe I feel a tinge of sadness when I hear you hit a high note with such grace and purity that a pony like me will never sound good enough. I spend hours a day singing in the field in my Orchard Blossom voice, yet somehow I sound as fausse faux as always.

But you were right all along, weren’t you? You must have known for years that magic could, in fact, fix a pony like me. I’ve poured over thousands of obscure unicorn spells, and I found nothing. One day I overheard Lyra Heartstrings lamenting the shortcomings of pony transfiguration. That moment I lost all hope. Until, by fate, I lost my voice.

I heard Fluttershy’s voice drop. Zecora really is more than a urban legend or a quack. Maybe Applebloom was right. She really can fix anything.

Maybe “anything” includes my voice, too.

The Everfree Forest isn’t so scary to walk in, even at night. I grew up as an Apple. I’ve seen much worse in the real-world. Besides, the fears around me pale in comparison to ghosts of a past buried. All I need to do is follow a trail until I reach her hut. By contrast, The Everfree beneath my pillow doesn’t have any trails to follow.

I trotted along, unfazed by the moonlight. Applejack doesn’t know I left Sweet Apple Acres, and I’ll be back before dawn. Even if I’m not, I know I can count on Applebloom to cover for me. She’s always been there for me, even though it feels like I’m never there for her. She’s known about the mare behind the mask since the day she was old enough to understand. But after all, I’m still an Apple. No matter how much Applebloom may accept me, AJ and Granny Smith would never hear of it. They need me more on the farm than staying with the Oranges in Manehattan.

I lost myself in self-reflection, but soon enough I found the one pony who might be able to help me.

“Big Macintosh, good to see you again. But why are you out here at half past ten?”

I was here just this morning, and already I had forgotten how creepy the inside of Zecora’s home was. She may be a pony, but I didn’t think any of this could be found elsewhere in Equestria. Masks, potions upon potions, and a cauldron in the center. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was insane.

“Big Macintosh, I asked you a question. Though, I have an idea from your sombre expression.”

I’ve never been able to talk aloud, sometimes not even with Applebloom. Maybe I’m a poet in my mind, but I’ll never be heard the way I am. The words just don’t come out. I squeaked my signature “eeyup” – an all-purpose word designed to let others finish the conversation – and hoped for the best.

“Has Applebloom told you why I moved to Equestria? As you know, I’m not from the land of Celestia.”

I shook my head.

“It appears you know less of me than I know of you. So, allow me to divulge a secret or two. Before you were born was the start of saga. So, we must return to the land of the quagga. All there speak and act like me, but it was not utopic, you see. I was born quite similar to you – but unlike here, I couldn’t shine my colours true. There, gender played a marked role; if you were trans, you were not whole. My mother berated me for studying potions, but could I live a man’s life, to go through the motions? Instead, I was raised under pure masculinity, as if gender roles were a sign of divinity. I never earned my cutie mark, until I had an idea that was quite dark.

“My special talent is brewing liquid magic – versatile, it could save lives or be tragic. On the eve of departure I cooked a particular brew. It disguised me well enough to start my life anew. I trekked to your homeland in search of equality, and when I arrived I was filled up with jollity. But when I come into town, it was all but neglected; I retreated to the forest, now rather dejected. I built up the home you are now seeing here, though only thanks to Appleboom was my destiny near. I’ve always used potions for my voice and the obvious sign, though I doubt I could pass very well at the time.

“Your sister is now one of my closest friends. Thanks to your tale, she helped me make amends. To remind me of home, I still live in the forest, plus I can self-supply, as a mythical florist. Now, I’m assuming you’re here for an anti-dysphoria brew? Though if you need anything else, I owe you that, too.”

Listening to her story was… incredible. It’s good I couldn’t speak, or else I think I’d constantly interrupt. I was still struggling to process each revelation – that she was like me, that she escaped at such a young age, that she was best friends with Applebloom, that she knew about me… oh, and that she’d just offered precisely what I came here for, and more. Up here, I have a million words of gratitude – would it be weird to give her a hug? – how do you thank someone like this? – but out in the real world, I was perfectly still. I still had no potion to “express my voice”, at least not yet. But Zecora understood me, it seems. For once, it only did take one word for a lifetime of wishes to come true.

“Eeyup.”