//------------------------------//
// Shhh 
// Story: Let the Silence Sing 
// by Aegis Shield 
//------------------------------//

Let the Silence Sing
Part 4: Shhh

Make-out with a changeling. It was not a series of words Celestia ever thought she would have to string together. But, after catching her sister Luna in the royal garden gazebo with Ambassador Doppleganger, wellll… yeah. She was out of there. Nevermind the complex politics of the Canterlot elite, the upcoming commission for a giant sun dial near Cloudsdale, or even the creepy flirting letters from King Ebonfeather of the griffon empire— Luna smooching a changeling had done it for her. When they’d been discovered the poor foreigner was sure he would be boiled alive in a pot, but Luna had grabbed him and teleported away from a mentally scarred Celestia. The great white princess was relieved that her next day off was today, and by her mother’s sun-stroked mane she was going to enjoy it. Sneaking away was all too easy, once her chambers were sealed with solar magic.

Sweet Apple Acres was a welcome sight indeed. Quiet. Homey. Simple. Ohhh, could it not be more perfect? As she swooped back and forth under the invisibility spell, the princess spotted Big Macintosh toiling away with a dead tree stump and a good deal of rope. Her eyes slid onward, spotting a little group of foals near the house. Taking up residence in her loft, Celestia peeked at them when she was settled nicely.

A trio of fillies and one colt (bearing a camera around his thin neck) were playing some sort of fashion show game. While the alicorn watched the girls adorned each other with flower crowns, simple fabric dresses, and light touches of hoof polish. Then, with a series of plywood pieces that had been fished out of a storage shed, they played fashion show. The one colt present pretended to be the eager paparazzi, flashing pictures back and forth while the fillies pranced back and forth. Celestia cocked her head, grinning behind a hoof. They were so cute!

Then Big Macintosh went by, having up rooted the tree stump and moving to put his tools away. He saw what they were doing and smiled briefly, then stopped. The plywood they were using was COVERED with little hoofprints from their hoof polish and glitter. It was ruined! Frowning angrily, he set his things down to give them a good talking to. The four foals huddled together fearfully as he told them how ashamed of themselves they should be, ruinin’ somepony else’s supplies. The farm couldn’t well use wood that looked so ridiculous. When he picked up a portion of it, it promptly snapped in half. He grumbled. All of their stomping and running about on it had worn it clean through, and the mud underneath didn’t help. Somehow, he didn’t think lecturing them about bits not growing on trees would really sink in. Towering over the colt, he sent him running with a snort of hot air from his nostrils. The spindly-legged thing turned to flee so hard his camera went off in the whiplash, pointed almost skyward. He sent two of the fillies and the camera-wielding colt home. (Celestia tilted her head when the three fillies stopped to check their blank flanks for something, then split up as bidden) A little yellow filly remained behind, though. The Princess could see the family resemblance. She must’ve been his little sister or niece.  He fixed her with a grumbly glare and the filly cowered, turning to crawl ashamedly past him towards the house. He swatted her on the butt to send her running, which she did with a squeal. Drama drama drama, there on Sweet Apple Acres. The Princess chuckled a little.

Big Mac sighed, looking at the big mess that had been made. He salvaged perhaps two thirds of the plywood that had been wrongfully taken, and pitched the rest into a nearby burn pile. Mischievous little foals. He turned what was left over and over thoughtfully. Maybe he could paint it all or something. He wasn’t about to build a new shed or fence-lining covered with tiny glittery hoofprints. Ah well. Applejack and Granny Smith could straighten out Applebloom, and he could get more wood if the occasion called for it. Hopefully his little sister would think twice about takin’ somethin’ that didn’t belong to her in the future. Eyuup. Hmph. Well now he’d need to lay down some straw and throw grass seed over it if he didn’t want the main area between the house and the barn to turn into a mud pit. Sigh.

Celestia nickered softly, lying on her side so she could rest a bit. Big Mac went to put his tools away, and she smiled when she heard the extending ladder unfold. Tilting her head back so she looked at the world upside down, she smiled when his frowny face emerged up into the loft. He was reaching for a bound bale of straw when he saw her there. He blushed. Had she seen all that mess below? Prolly. She turned right-side up, tossing her mane a bit. He made a ‘hold-on’ motion, then came back with a pair of apple juice jars from the fridge below. Not daring to roll something glass across the uneven wooden floor, he brought it to her. She thanked him with a quiet smile, then sidled over a bit. He frowned at her in concern. What? Get in the nest with her? Surely not. She nodded, motioning him in. Not one to deny his Princess, the red stallion stepped over the lip and into the softness. He stomp-stomped about a little, then settled on his belly. She smiled, patting his head with a wing. Maybe he would cool his grumpy mood off if he sat still for a minute or two.

Big Mac leaned, opening both apple juice jars with his mouth. Setting the screw-on lids aside, he nudged hers towards her so she could drink first. She leaned, sipping lightly. It was chilled, but not too chilly that it stung her teeth. Absolutely perfect. She paused to eye the jar a bit. It was strange, drinking from a jar. Maybe it was a farmer sort of thing? She’d drunk from chalices, glasses, cups, rivers, even from thicker clouds— but never from a jar. It was heavy and charming in a rustic sort of way. She smiled, pleased. Sitting there in silence, they relaxed in the hot afternoon glow of the slowly falling sun. Sipping at their jars now and then, they shared a pensive sort of silence of thoughtful company.

The red stallion found himself looking at her crown, which she’d set aside when she’d come in earlier. She saw him looking, and smiled playfully. Lighting her horn, she levitated it up and placed it on his head. He blink-blinked, looking up at it. All hail King Big Macintosh, ruler of the apple orchards! She gave a playful sort of half-bow to tease him. He snorted, rolling his eyes and chuckling a bit. When he saw her merry look, harrumphing a little, he threw his chest out to look big and impressive. Why yes, yes he was! King Apple! Worship him and all his apple… ness! They shared a quiet laugh, lifting their apple juice jars again and clinking them together. A friendship had formed.

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Featherweight puttered around in his dark room. He’d promised the cutie mark crusaders their photos in just a few days, but since they’d gotten in trouble he felt like he needed them sooner. Maybe if he brought them the finished photos tomorrow they might feel better about Big Mac scolding them. (He also sort of had a crush on Sweetie Belle, but that wasn’t the point!) Leaning with a little pair of tongs, he took yet another picture out of the development fluid and hung it on the little clothesline his mother had helped him set up. It dripped for a bit, and when he had it secure with a little pair of wooden tweezers he let it hang there. Whew! So many photos, he couldn’t wait to… see… what was that?

Frowning, the colt leaned over the final photo on the reel. Making sure the tip of his muzzle didn’t touch the still-developing photo, he squinted. That almost looked like… no. No way. He galloped to his cute little toolchest, shoving his head down in it and rooting around. Coming back with a magnifying glass, he adjusted it back and forth in the red half-light of the dark room. He squinted again. It was an oddly angled photo. It showed the top of Big Macintosh’s head, a good chunk of the barn, and the open loft. But there, in the shadows of the loft itself, was a long-necked figure…  It was hump-shaped, and that head was certainly bigger than any pony he knew. And look at that horn, it was huge! There was only one explanation.

Dear. Sweet. Celestia. 

Featherweight dropped his magnifying glass, eyes big and sparkly and excited. He couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t believe it. This would make his career as a foal photographer! Rushing over, he fed it through his two-cylinder press to squeeze it dry. Slipping out of the room with the picture in his teeth, he rushed to the light by the window. He put his magnifying glass over it again. Sure as shootin’, there she was— that was definitely her! There was no denying it! How had he gotten so lucky to get a picture of this magnificent creature?! Tomorrow morning’s front page of the Free Foal Press was gonna be all his. He could just smell the ink. Sweet Apple Acre’s barn was the vacation home of the Loch Ness Monster!



End of Part 4