Chapter 1
She had been dreaming when the sleigh bells woke her. Fluttershy stirred, but her dream still hung upon her in a finespun veil of gold. For a moment she thought it was summertime, some late afternoon long past. Her eyes opened to her own room flooded with moonlight. A few embers glowed in the hearth. She’d been lulled to sleep by falling snow as she watched from her chair at the window, but now the snow had ceased. In the clear bright hush that followed, she heard the bells again.
Fluttershy rose and went to the door, stepped into the night and caught her breath. Luna’s magic at its fullest cast a glamour on the world turned all to snow. The soft hills glinted in their fresh white robes, looking so much like clouds that Fluttershy felt a strange fugitive pain. Then her eyes found the shapes on the farthest hill, shadows near the treeline. Fluttershy knew they didn’t belong, but they didn’t seem to be moving, either.
“Hello?” Her voice, long free of its old hesitation, rang like a bell through the still, cold air. Another bell answered--a chorus of them, laughing. She wondered, with a little thrill, if the fairies had come for her at last. Her suspicions deepened as she approached the hill, beginning to discern dazzles of light that could only be fairy fire. But notions of the gentle folk soon vanished at a much more surprising sight.
It was Big Macintosh, bedecked in jingling bells and yoked to a brightly painted sleigh both fantastic and somehow familiar. He smiled as she approached, but said nothing.
“Mac? What are you doing here? It’s--why, it must be midnight!”
“‘Leven-thirty,” he said simply.
“Is that for the Hearth’s Warming revel?”
Big Mac nodded.
“But it’s not until tomorrow.”
Something danced in his eyes as he watched her, as if he’d just told a joke that was bound to make her shriek with laughter. The kind he used to sidle up and whisper just to see her lose control.
At last he said, “Care t’go flyin’, princess?”
The endearment brought her sudden understanding and a dizzy sense of deja vu. Blood roared in her ears and a wind fanned her feathers. Big Mac was still watching her closely. She tried to breathe and heard herself saying, “Yes. Let’s go.”
His smile broadened. He produced a cape with fur-like trim, holding it out by its ribbon ties. Fluttershy slipped into it and raised her head as Mac let go of the ribbons. For a breath or two she could smell sweet hay and feel his warmth puffing out into the night air.
“It suits you,” he told her. “Still.”
Fluttershy looked down. “You’ve kept it all this time.”
The mantle was more ivory now than winter white, of course--the last time she had worn it they’d been playing a child’s game. But, oh, they had played in such finery. Rarity’s work held true, from the decorative seams to the silver snowstorm that whirled down the front and round the edges of the cape.
Now that Fluttershy stood near it, she could see the sleigh Mac pulled had felt familiar for a reason. It was the same one, all right, but someone had recently given it a great deal of care. There was a fresh coat of paint, holly-red and spiraled green with filigrees of gold. The runners gleamed like mirrors, and the velvet-upholstered bench was flanked by a pair of marvelous lanterns. Fluttershy stared, enchanted, as their crystalline facets scattered starlight in every direction. She had been right, at least, about the fairy fire.
“Did you do all this?”
“Miz Rarity ‘n’ Spike helped with the lanterns.”
“It’s so beautiful, Mac. The little ones will love it.”
He smiled again. “Hope so. They deserve somethin’ special.”
Big Mac assumed a serious expression. “Your chariot awaits, fair lady. Saddle up!”
Fluttershy laughed. Somehow the knightly speech that would sound strange on other lips felt right at home in Mac’s steady drawl.
When she was settled comfortably aboard the sleigh, Fluttershy called out, “Onward!”
Big Mac took a few steps, then set off at a brisk trot. A breeze stirred around them, lifting his mane to the light with unseen fingers. The gold of summer apples shone there still, but Luna’s glow revealed the strands where frost had taken hold. Not even in their youth, thought Fluttershy, had he looked finer--nor had time diminished his unflagging strength.
As they veered out into an open field his gait quickened, maintaining its easy grace, and a wind began to rise from the breeze. Fluttershy felt it curl around and kiss her cheeks with roses, heard it whistle by her with a troupe of sleigh bells clamoring behind. Cold rushed up and then flowed over her in welcome waves of shock and delight. For the first time in ages untold, she felt like her body was her own and her spirit alive inside it.
Mac’s hoofbeats in the powdered snow drummed on like distant thunder. She watched as each powerful stride sent clouds of snow flying in his wake and clouds of breath gusting into the night. Then she closed her eyes and unfurled her wings just enough to catch the wind. The ache of it was nothing to the pleasure that surged through her as her lungs and feathers filled with sharp, clean air. When she could drink no deeper, she let go a wild, exuberant shout. Big Mac tossed his head, laughing, and broke into a flat gallop. Fluttershy’s cheers were carried off by the mischievous wind, and soon the world around them was a blur of snow and moonlight.
The field seemed to stretch on for miles beyond the boundaries it kept by day. Gliding across its smooth expanse, Fluttershy thought of the sky again. If they just kept going, might they tread upon some hidden path ascending to the stars? She could no longer tell their faces from the flash of bells and candlefire; it was easy to yield to this fancy of flight. She let it wash over her, sure as the wind itself, and drew nearer the heavens with every soaring bound across the earth.
At last the field gave way to a gentle slope rising before a copse of evergreens. Big Macintosh gradually eased off his gallop, settling into a leisurely trot. They rode on, wordless and breathless, until they reached the trees. The old path was covered in new-fallen snow, but a vaulted arbor of glittering branches opened the way. Mac hummed softly as they passed beneath it, whispering over a carpet of pine needles. Such warmth as only came by magic glowed around them both, and in Fluttershy’s memory there moved the vision of a unicorn.
The forest hall led to a sheltered clearing where the moon held court. The trees held up garlands and star-spangles for her blessing, but tonight she was escorted by a presence more ancient still. It crackled in the scent of pine and clung heady to clusters of holly and mistletoe. Fluttershy sensed the ghost of many thousand Hearth’s Warmings past, and she felt Mac must have recognized it too. The spirit passed a loving hand over the little hollow where generations had gathered to be together and rejoice.
“How can anything be so beautiful?” Fluttershy whispered.
“Magic,” Big Mac replied solemnly. He shook the little bells around his neck as if to demonstrate, then turned to face her. “May Ah show you?”
“Lead the way, good stallion.” She’d studied the regal arch of her neck with Rarity, but Mac wasn’t sure where she got that voice. It was inviting and commanding all at once, and though he’d heard the playful cadence, there was something else there too. As if she’d had it all her life and never once used it before.
She rose from her seat with the crown of the moon behind her, the mantle sweeping queenly from her breast. Mac was reminding himself not to stare when he saw her stagger, swallowing a cry.
“Shy! Are you all right? Do you need help?”
“I’m okay, Mac. The weather… it’s okay. Thank you.”
He stood close at ready as she lighted on the snow. “Thank you,” Fluttershy repeated.
“You’re welcome, Shy, but it’s...” He seemed embarrassed.
“For everything, I mean. All of this.” She was looking intently at him. “It’s important.”
Big Mac inclined his head a little and a twinkle caught his eye. “Ma’am.”
He led her through the clearing, pointing out every detail. The wonders seemed to multiply each year, some of them cleverly camouflaged to await their young discoverers. At the center, impossible to miss, two thrones of ice stood empty before a frozen blue cascade. Mac made a show of stretching wearily before he took a seat.
“Hey, that’s for Father Friendship!”
“And this one’s for the Snow Princess. Won’t you join me?”
“But I haven’t been the Snow Princess for…”
“Ah say you are, and Ah made these here dealies. Nobody more fit to sit in one than you.”
Fluttershy gave a wry smile and took her place beside him.
“Ahhh. Now ain’t this the life?”
She looked at him, then looked around, thoughtful and quiet. “It surely could be,” she said at last. Words were beating at her heart like a bird in a strange small cage. She knew the door must be open somewhere nearby, so she grasped for it.
“I liked being the Snow Princess.”
Big Mac smiled. “Ah liked it too. Ah mean--when you were. It was a good day.”
“I’ll never forget it.”
They both knew the story by heart, it turned out, so they told it to each other as the moon climbed overhead.
The Hearth’s Warming festivities had been much as they were every year. Fluttershy took part with her joyous abandon, childlike, but childhood then was still a late morning shadow. She led the woodland animals in their carol-singing and gift exchange. She danced in reels and circles, laughing and clapping with Pinkie Pie.
And she cast her eyes too often on the handsome farmer’s son who filled the cider kegs and gave out candy apples. He may not have noticed--did he notice?--but someone did.
For when the sun was lowering, the air kissed by the hint of snow, they named their Princess and her winter consort. Nobody knew how this idea got started. Even Twilight had come up empty searching for textual evidence concerning the myths of Father Friendship and the Snow Princess. But for as long as anypony could remember, they had crowned them every year, then set them off to lead a merry chase.
This year the foals--always the foals--saw their princess in the shy young pegasus who lived by the Everfree Forest. They flocked around, giggling, to clothe her in the garments of her office. Their giggles intensified for a moment, then relented with much coughing and clearing of throats as Sweetie Belle prepared to announce their new Father Friendship. A whoop went up at the name of Big Macintosh. He was fitted with a silvery horn and a flowing beard to match.
Side by side, it was hard to tell which one of them blushed the most. Two of the quietest ponies in Ponyville exchanged knowing looks while they grinned awkwardly and waved for the crowd. Then the mare with the sea-green eyes gave Mac an altogether different look. It lit up with sudden wickedness, and her eyes darted meaningfully to the sleigh waiting nearby. She twitched her tail and ruffled her feathers. Big Mac’s eyes went wide. He pawed at the ground and nickered softly in response.
Without any further warning, the pair took off in a blur. They escaped with the sleigh in record time to the exultation of their populace. They ran and did not stop until the noise was well behind them. At Fluttershy’s cottage they finally stood still, drawing ragged breaths between their laughter.
A world sprung up, bordered with a curtain of snow, in the silence that followed. They felt mystified by this sudden change, but relieved that for once nothing had to be said. Eyes locked, full of questions. The only answer that mattered seemed to wait somewhere between them.
Fluttershy moved closer, hoping to find it there. Instead, a colorful cannonball shot out of a snowdrift and toppled her. It was Rainbow Dash, with Scootaloo just behind, and a host of other revelers no doubt approaching fast. Moments later, Big Mac was swarmed by colts and fillies begging for a sleigh ride.
The little world they had inhabited for moments was scattered again, and time with all its winds and rains would make slow work of rebuilding.
Later that night, Apple Bloom had tugged on Applejack’s scarf. “Is Fluttershy sick?” she'd asked.
“Uh, no, no, I don’t think so. Why?”
“Today she kept on saying, 'Once, before I die. Just once.'"
Big Macintosh and Fluttershy were quiet again now. The only sound came from the wind as it spoke in the trees and sang in the sleigh bells. Fluttershy was watching her old friend, unable now to look away from the face that felt like home.
“Ah wanted you to see it all,” Mac said. “Ah wanted you to be the first. Ah know how much you love this time of year.”
“I always love your work. I love what you do for the children, for all of us.”
“It ain’t much…”
“No!” She was suddenly forceful. “You’re wrong, Mac. What you do is magic. You said it yourself, though I think you only half believe it.”
“Ah don’t know magic--”
“You don’t need to. It’s in you. It is you. You do more with your own hooves, your own back, your own sweat…” She trailed off and took a deep breath. “More in your everyday work than most unicorns I know.”
“But you like it?”
“Okay, enough talk.”
Before she knew what she was doing, she had kissed him.
When they spoke again, the night had grown colder and the moon was setting behind the trees.
“May Ah walk you home, Fluttershy?”
“You certainly may.”
“Good. You’re the prettiest Snow Princess Ah’ve ever seen.”
“Me?”
“It’s always been you, Shy. Always.”
They left the sleigh for the morning’s festivities and made for the cottage on hoof. At least, Big Macintosh did. Fluttershy hovered beside him, a few inches off the ground, thrumming along happily in her old filly habit. Mac hadn’t seen her take to the open sky in a few years, but he thought as he looked at her that she could still face down a hurricane if she had to. In their short journey that early morning, they faced only a few flurries of snow.
When they reached the door of Fluttershy’s cottage, Big Mac bent to kiss her forehead. “Shall Ah return upon the morrow to escort thee?”
Fluttershy smiled. “Would you like to come inside? I can fix you something hot to drink.”
“Whatcha got?”
“Sweet Apple Acres Cider.”
Big Mac roared with laughter. “Mah favorite!”
“But have you had it with my special secret spices?”
He stammered, and even in the dim light she knew he was blushing. “No, ma’am.”
“Come on in, Mac. You can stoke the fire.”
She turned and made for the door. He watched her for a moment, contemplating this new reality.
“Eeyup,” he decided, and followed her inside.
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That's gorgeous. Thank you.
Here via 6767511, and very glad for it. This was a beautifully atmospheric 'shipfic. Thank you for sharing it!
Sent here by 6767511, whose recommendation's worth gold.
It's a lovely piece, gentle and powerfully atmospheric. I find the way in which it is decompressed particularly noteworthy. It takes things very slowly, and while this would throw off pacing for most stories, it works quite well here, exploring each moment with skill.
Thank you: both for writing this but also for getting Ed into the fandom. A great service, that.
Also brought here by 6767511, and grateful to the both of you for the capstone to this Christmas.
The atmosphere here built a sense of magic, even of mystery, in a way. It matches the subjects beautifully, while expanding upon them. It all ends up giving a sense of rightness and completion to their rendezvous.
I followed Jedi Master Ed's advice and read this wonderfully magical story. This was a very beautifully told tale! I loved every moment of Fluttershy and Big Mac sharing a special time together. This has become one of my favorite wintertime stories. Thank you so much for sharing it with us.
I reviewed this story!
My review can be found here.
As with the others, I followed a certain horse over here.
Also here via Ed. Very sweet. Bonus points for the OTP.
Notes:
>He produced a fur-trimmed cape, holding it out by its ribbon ties.
Ponies wear fur?
>Both ponies sensed and recognized the ghost of many thousand Hearth’s Warmings past.
Sudden shift from Fluttershy's POV to omniscient. You could use some omniscient POV earlier so it's not a shock, or stick entirely with Fluttershy's POV (which I'd have done myself), or use objective external POV throughout for a subtler but more distant feeling.
>She’d studied the regal arch of her neck with Rarity, but Mac wasn’t sure where she got that voice.
Sudden shift to Mac's POV, especially difficult for the reader to follow because the sentence starts with "She". Also, this implies Mac is looking at her, which is hardly possible, since he's pulling the sled she's on through a forest.
>She rose with the crown of the moon behind her, the mantle sweeping queenly from her breast. Mac was reminding himself not to stare when he saw her stumble, swallowing a cry.
She never got off the sled, so how did she rise, how can Mac be staring, and how did she stumble?
>He stood close at hand as she lighted on the snow.
I'm not saying to change it to 'hoof', but it stands out.
The AB/AJ scene in the middle can't fit anywhere. Just before it is a flashback to the distant past. The "before I die" in the AB/AJ scene implies it takes place when Fluttershy is old, and so nearer the story's present. But it can't take place before the present of the narration, because it starts with "Later that night", and it can't take place during it for the same reason; but it can't take place after it either, because we then go back to that time after.
6769675
"Oh, I didn't kill it--he died and left me everything!" -- La Cage aux Folles
6769675
Thank you so much for the detailed feedback. A few of these points occurred to me while I was writing, but I may have erred a little too heavily toward trying to leave some things implicit. It definitely occurred to me that ponies in fur seemed a bit weird, but "fake fur" sounded wrong. I've tweaked it to something that makes more sense.
I was picturing the sleigh stopped and Big Mac unyoked once they reached the clearing. Fluttershy was rising from her seat to get off the sleigh when she almost fell--"stumbled" isn't quite the right word there, either. My intention was to relay, albeit subtly, that Fluttershy has chronic pain that can impair her mobility and flight. I'll admit I'm unsure how to proceed with that part of the story, but it's an important part and could use some expanding.
The AB/AJ exchange is meant to take place on the same night as the flashback sequence--another odd POV shift which I know comes out of nowhere. Prose fiction is not a thing I have done much of lately.
"Before I die" was a bit of hyperbole.
Thank you again for drawing my attention to things that need clarification. I may revisit this later to do some polishing.
6770408
You could make that more obvious by eliminating the break before it to group it more closely with the flashback sequence, and/or by changing its tense to transition out of flashback:
> Later that night, Apple Bloom had tugged on Applejack’s scarf. “Is Fluttershy sick?” she'd asked.
6770421 Well, that's easy. :) Done.
Many have declared Fluttermac to be an OTP; this, however, may be the first story I've seen that actually justifies the claim. Well done.
:D
So much joy~! I love this! (Even if it was kind of hard to read)
That was wonderful. You have an eloquent touch.
Yeah, pretty much gonna parrot what 6767863 has already said. Was sent here via Ed, you have a very nice, romantic way with words with a smooth flow on the figurative language, slow pacing was nice, and thanks for getting Ed into the fandom. I'd like to hear that story one day. I'm sure there was a bit of apprehension involved. I mean, that's kind of one of the steps into Bronydom. I'm sure of it
6770408
I got that, but figured it was nothing more than old age. Yet, as someone who has read and enjoyed this story, I 'd like to ask: then please don't expand on Fluttershy's debility. It will spoil things. Let me explain.
In A Christmas Carol Scrooge is estranged from his nephew because his sister--Scrooge's one childhood friend--died giving birth to the boy. But Dickens never makes this fact explicit. Why? I think it was because Dickens knew that, as soon as he did, the reader would pity Scrooge, and pity would spoil the further development of the character and the story. Scrooge must not rely on the reader's consolation, but instead win his own way back to grace.
Your case, I think, is similar: if you make too much of Fluttershy's injury or illness, any decent reader would want to compassionate, would want to console her. And so all the further revelation and development of her relationship with Mac would take on a cast of consolation.
And Mac's love is not a consolation prize. It is a Christmas present, an important gift chosen with great care and given in its proper season. Not in pity, but in joy.
Pity is good and compassion is good, both in their proper seasons. But the season you speak of, in the calendar and in these characters' lives, is one of grace.
And finally, never be afraid to cast a glamour, to show something as a glimmer at the edge of the reader's vision. Even if they don't get it the first time. There are people--good people, good writers--who like their narratives plain, clean and full of light, like Bauhaus architecture. I see the virtue in this, but I still have a childish delight in that carven fancy in a shadowed nook. Even if I only notice it after living with it thirty years.
I only found this due to you being listed in Titanium Dragon's 'Following' tab, I hadn't realised he'd written a review.
Favourited, upvoted obviously.
How is this not better known?
Small technical note,
This was very sweet, and subtle, and beautifully written. I very much enjoyed this story, and I hope to see more from you.
I've had this sitting open in a tab since bronycon--I wish I hadn't waited so long to read it! The prose is beautiful, not simply in word choice, which would be enough, but in its ebb and flow. I really liked your use of imagery and metaphor.
I wish you would write more, Willow. I know this can't be the only story that's ever swam around in your mind. You ought to write others. Really.
And I am not alone
While my love is near me
I know it will be so
Until it's time to go.
So come the storms of Winter
And then the birds in Spring again,
I have no fear of time...
This has heen on my Read Later list for a shamefully long time. And, in a way, that's kind of appropriate. Some time may have passed, but I still took advantage of the opportunity before it was truly too late. Thank you for this.
Oh my golly gosh. :O
This is so cute though! :D And excellent written. Superb!
Wow. I don't quite know why, but this one really hit me. It has that sense of magical wonder... that dreamlike quality of a landscape that feels as if it must stretch on forever, in which i am entirely alone and at peace. The magic of winter and of night, complete solitude only broken by one with whom you would share your soul.
Im definitely writing that down somewhere.
This was astonishingly well-written. The wonderful flights of fancy in the language, but also what it leaves unsaid. You have a skill for wordcraft. Others have said it better than I, so I shall leave it at that, except to say thank you for sharing this with us.