Enchanted
Fancypants adjusted his pith helmet as he gazed at his natural surroundings. Fragments of Celestia’s sun seeped through the tiny cracks generously laid open by the tall, moss-growing trees as he journeyed deeper through the Everfree Forest.
Most ponies in his social elite would have considered him reckless, let alone possibly insane for performing such tasks as of right now. But alas, his friends back in Canterlot spent days drinking tea or chatting it up in some garden party; one which, apparently, was being held today as of this moment. Unfortunarely, he sent a message of apology to his dear friends Jet Set and Upper Crust, informing them that he had ‘business’ to attend to.
He could just feel their disappointment as he trailed his hooves across the clear path of lukewarm green grass. It truly was a disappointment for everypony, a shame that the pony everypony knew was not present at an usual gathering.
Apparently, they didn’t know him well.
As remorseful as Fancypants was of not being unable to attend that garden party, the stallion knew that his ‘little white lie‘ had given him independence to journey through this thick forest, exploring the exotic wonders he hoped to discover, and maybe, just maybe...learn its secrets.
That is, if such a forest had any.
He hadn’t brought much with him, just a simple explorer’s hat and vest. And his monocle. No matter where his destination, he would never go without it. Though a stallion of many interests, his monocle should precisely identify him.
Out of boredom, Fancypants whistled a faint tune to pass the time as he continued through the forest that his friends would consider as ‘disgustingly terrifying’. True, nothing astonishing was present but originality was the best word he could decipher for this place.
He could smell its dampness as he journeyed on, feel his fur near perspiration as a warm mist seemed to emerge. Beads of sweat slowly trailed down the side of his cheek and beneath his mustache before he summoned a handkerchief, his magic dabbing it across his brow before lowering it to his neck.
“Can’t determine if any pony had ever crossed this place...” He muttered to himself in apprehension.
As he finished wiping away his sweat, something in the distance immediately caught his eye.
Fancypants put away his handkerchief and squinted, finding his eyes focused on what appeared to be a sparkling glare from afar. It continued its innocent, glittering performance, assisted by the reflection from the sunlight pouring through small openings of the trees.
Suddenly, the stallion found himself growing determined to unearth what exactly had caught his interest. With that, the blood in his hooves began to pump as he bolted across the damp grass, his eyes remaining focused on his destination.
This newfound speed of his brought the realization of why exactly he had refused that garden party invite: the acceleration he was experiencing and the sudden thrill of excitement as his smooth, pampered mane became slightly unruly as his speed increased.
For one such Canterlot pony as himself to even come close to this kind of adrenaline would merely be croquet.
With one glorious thrust from his hind legs, Fancypants gave one giant leap, his eyes narrowing in triumph to discover how close he was to that glittering mystery that was nearing him. He smiled to himself, awaiting his hooves to meet oppressive grass once more.
However, his front hooves suddenly met a slippery surface and he let out a cry of shock as his whole body crashed into unknown territory. His head thrashed against something soft yet slightly ticklish before his flank careened over, tumbling like a ball rolling down a hill.
Finally, he landed chin-first upon familiar grass; thankfully, his monocle had not been demolished through the entire impact.
With a groan, the stallion’s eyes painfully opened. And he found curious ones gazing into them.
With a startled gasp, Fancypants' head shot up. He was unable to thrust himself onto all fours, instead, he had his hind legs splayed in front of him as his forearms were held out protectively in front of his body, willing to use them to challenge his unwanted adversary if needed.
However, as his eyes slowly adjusted after his little incident, they immediately widened as Fancypants assimilated the sight of the mysterious figure before him.
A zebra. Its black and white stripes appearing vibrant in contrast to the murky, dim surroundings of this forest as it regarded him closely as he in vice versa.
And that zebra was a woman. Her turquoise eyes displayed her femininity as well as the array of gold that shone from her ears and around her neck.
A flare of light reflected off it, and Fancypants immediately realized what was it he had been chasing after with so much interest that he smiled nervously at her, praying his face wasn’t displaying redness.
However, something else was displayed on his face as he felt something tickle his muzzle. Narrowing his eyes, he noticed a simple blue flower of some sort dangling across his mustache. His eyes fell to his hind legs, and the same species of flower was draped on each hoof as well. In fact, this same flower was poking out of his pockets, hanging from his pith helmet, and even held by his folded front hooves.
“You are new to this forest, correct?”
He snapped back to attention toward the zebra in front of him, nearly forgetting she was still there. He gave a nervous chuckle and gave an apologetic nod, feeling like a fool to be displayed in such a way before her, almost appearing like some toy a careless filly had dragged across an open garden.
The zebra’s expression remained unchanged as she regarded him, more notably the flowers that concealed his body.
“Then you are unaware of this flower’s effect.”
Fancypants blinked at her in mild surprise. If he didn’t know any better, he could have sworn she had just spoken in rhyme. Maybe it was just coincidence...
Finally, holding his head high and trying to appear authoritative despite the unwanted decor, he cleared his throat.
“Effect, you say?” He questioned.
She nodded, pointing a hoof toward the flower dangling on his mustache. “An innocent prank is what this plant will progress,” she spoke, “for that is the way of a poison joke, yes?”
Again, she was rhyming. However, that was far from his concern as Fancypants’ eyes widened in sheer horror.
“Poison joke?” He cried.
With that, the stallion grunted as he tried to shake the flowers off, finding their presence becoming attached to him like glitter to glue. He flailed his hooves, his face wincing desperately as he moaned and muttered, hoping that he wouldn’t end up like something off the floral books he read back in Canterlot.
He immediately ceased his protest for the dooming plant as his eyes glanced over at the zebra, who held a hoof to her lips, stifling her giggles at his misfortune.
Realizing he was appearing more like a helpless, little colt than a stallion of high intelligence and conduct, he gave another nervous smile, shrugging in embarrassment.
“Blasted poison joke...” He joked dryly, feeling his face heat up.
The zebra removed her hoof away from his lips, though a smile remained as she regarded him with both humor and sympathy.
“Before the flower carries its effect on you,” she said simply, “follow me, I know just what to do.”
And with that, she turned on her hooves and began trailing off. Fancypants watched her in uncertainty, raising an eyebrow.
When she stopped in her tracks and turned her head back in his direction, she gave him an assuring smile, before gesturing for him to follow.
Reluctantly, Fancypants pulled himself onto all fours, the poison joke still attached to his body. He quietly followed behind the zebra as she led the way.
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Fancypants didn’t know what to expect when they finally reached the zebra’s hut, except realize that she truly was an inhabitant of this forest. Not some mysterious figure that appeared out of nowhere when he least expected it, but at least she came at a good time when he had crashed through the field of poison joke that somehow still clung to his body during their little trek. He was starting to itch.
It was quite a large hut, its fine exterior constructed with time and effort on the zebra’s hooves as he analyzed closer. Various plants surrounded the home, almost made up into a garden where he assumed she made most of her meals or perhaps medications. Hopefully, there was a medication for him; the poison joke seemed to make his body feel even more uncomfortable.
As they neared the doorway, the stallion couldn’t help but curiously gaze at his guide, whose backside was to him as her turquoise eyes worked on the door before successfully opening it. She turned to him, noticing his glance in her direction and gave a smile. Fanycpants realized he had been regarding her longer than needed and immediately blinked, then he gave an awkward smile, a poison joke dangling over his eye as he shrugged nervously. So much for appearing as a stallion that was more than sanguine.
“We’ve met moments before, and I forgot to ask you,” the zebra spoke softly as she led him into her home, “what is your name, good sir? For my name is Zecora. How do you do?”
At this moment, Fancypants realized her form of colloquy consisted of rhyme. And he honestly was amazed that every word that emerged from her zebra lips seemed as captivating as the next. Enchanting, actually.
He suddenly remembered she had just asked him a question, and immediately cleared his throat before waving a hoof toward himself.
“Well, my dear,” he spoke with repute, “my name is Fancypants.” He gave s light bow, and a poison joke immediately slid from his ear and fell before the zebra’s hooves.
Zecora stood back for a moment, grateful the mischievous plant hadn’t touched her. Fancypants gave an apologetic smile.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry!” He exclaimed nervously.
But she smiled at him, chuckling a bit. “Do not worry, my fancy friend,” she assured him, “come now, let me help you put your poison joke’s effects to its end.” Her eyes trailed across his muzzle to down his mane and fell on his hooves. “For it deems fortunate that you have met me.” She was unable to stifle her small giggle. “For your mustache appears to have elongated as you can see.”
Fancypants raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Zecora further laughed before pointing a hoof at his muzzle. The stallion narrowed his eyes to regard his facial display.
He gave a horrified gasp.
Most stallions would love to have long manes that blew in the wind, but exactly how many would favor having a mustache that was as long as his tail?
Fancypants’ hooves trembled in utter disbelief as his blue eyes trailed down his prized mustache. It hung like two of his tails onto the floor, being dragged like unused fashion material whenever he moved his face.
“Oh, dear!” He cried.
His shaking slowly ceased, however, when he felt a comforting hoof on his side. He turned his head and noticed Zecora giving him an assuring smile, her black hoof patting him.
“Let me get started on that antidote right away,” she said cheerfully as she left his side and trotted over to a nearby cabinet, “once the recipe is done, you and and your mustache will be okay.”
The stallion remained silent, simply regarding her as she pranced about her quarters, gathering one item before dropping it into a nearby cauldron which slowly gathered a faint smell.
He cautiously trudged toward the heated cauldron, the smell becoming much stronger as he grew near. His blue eyes widened as he gazed at the thick, bubbling brew before him. He would be lying if he said it didn’t honestly intimidate him.
“You know,” he let out a startled gasp before turning to see Zecora stand beside him, smiling knowingly. “Six ponies had thought I was quite unusual as well.”
Fancypants blinked, simply gazing at her in confusion.
Zecora’s smile softened as she threw another ingredient into her cauldron. “They assumed I was some evil enchantress. Oh, the rumors about me the ponies would tell!”
His lips curved in a slight frown, regarding her closely. Of course, his friends back in Canterlot would take one good look at her and immediately consider her ill-minded for her mysterious nature as well as implant her with names such as strange and horrifying. They would even proclaim her as some sort of evil enchantress.
But to Fancypants himself, as he watched her stir her recipe made specially for him, she was certainly not evil. But certainly enchanting.
From the moment he first met her, he immediately knew she was unlike anypony, or any non-pony, he had ever met. And though she was not a unicorn such as him, he could sense a great deal of magic about her.
And he was quite astonished by her rhyming, of course. Her words flowed like milk out of a jug, and they perfected with her calm, compassionate voice that assured him so many times during his situation. Quite friendly was this dear zebra, and he immediately trusted she could rid his condition of most of his unwanted facial hair; it was really starting to tickle his nostrils as well as his top lip.
Zecora blew a sigh of relief before she turned her gaze toward the stallion, a soft smile played on her lips before she motioned to the bubbling brew.
“Now, my friend,” she spoke, “we must drench you in this antidote, soak you to the tail.”
She chuckled, watching him raise his eyebrows in surprise by her instructions.
“For the recipe will rid every bit of effect the poison joke has placed on your body, it will not fail.” And she gave him a wink.
The stallion realized he had no choice, so with a reluctant sigh, he gave a nod. Zecora smiled before checking to make sure her brew was not too hot, and quickly gestured for him to proceed.
Fancypants took a whiff of the recipe as he slowly began climbing the cauldron, and his nostrils flared, not from disgust, but from how actually luxurious the scent was. Like roses and violets mixed together with a hint of honey and cream.
Zecora assisted him into the cauldron, and reached over to remove his pith from atop his head before allowing him to slide his body, and all thirty-six inches of his mustache, into the warm substance.
For a moment, he felt uncomfortable, but as he allowed the liquid to rise up to his neck, he realized he had never felt more relaxed.
It was like a spa day back in Canterlot.
The stallion let out a deep sigh, so encased in such a soothing, healing bath. He bent his head back, allowing his mane to soak as he lifted his muzzle.
Before his eyes, his mustache appeared as if it had been trimmed, returned to its originality.
“Oh, my,” Fancypants gasped in astonishment.
His happiness became short-lived as he felt bristles stroke the top of his mane. He shifted his eyes toward Zecora, a bath brush in her mouth as she playfully scrubbed the top of his head.
As irritated as he began to feel, he was truly grateful for her help. And perhaps she was just giving him good treatment, considering she knew he was a pony of high status with many interests that were in no regards to fancy material, despite what his name implied.
As she continued scrubbing him, Fancypants smiled as he leaned back, resting his hooves against the circular edge of the cauldron before he bent his head down to allow more access for her brush.
“So, my dear Zecora,” he spoke calmly, feeling in the mood for casual conversation with his new friend, “who were these six ponies that had thought you were some sort of evil enchantress?”
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“And that, my good Draconequus,” Fancypants concluded with a broad smile, “is how Zecora and I met.”
He and Zecora shared a smile before regarding the chaotic being that idly floated a few feet off the ground, a glass of chocolate milk in his lion paw which, no doubt, had come from the chocolate fountain he conjured just for the garden party all of Fancypants and Zecora’s Canterlot friends to gather just for him and a certain violet unicorn.
Honestly, all the usually poised and self-concerned ponies of high status had immediately dropped their character to endow in glorious chocolate milk. Fancypants couldn’t blame them.
So much had occurred just days before, and he, as well a certain unicorn who had been born here but chose to reside in Ponyville, were actually grateful for the turn of events.
“Very interesting,” Discord chuckled, smacking his lips. He shifted his gaze toward the zebra that stood beside Fancypants. “And tell me, Zecora, what has it been like since Fancypants here finally introduced you to his socialites?”
Zecora rolled her eyes, thought possessed a smile before she glanced over at her dear stallion friend, his unpretentious mustache gleaming.
“Their ways try and absorb me into a certain discomfort,” she spoke, “for I am not a pony of fancy dresses nor do I consider croquet my true sport.”
Her turquoise eyes sparkled, resuming her smile. “But Canterlot has accepted me and I returned the favor,” she continued. Then she gazed at Fancypants, his blue eyes calm and passionate as hers. “For one certain pony, a pony everypony knew, accepted my friendship, not once frightened by my mysterious behavior.”
Fancypants smiled, his blue eyes twinkling as he gave her a broad wink. He never tired of her amazing rhyming.
Even to this day, her rhymes, as well as everything about the zebra herself, was still so enchanting.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: The scene featuring Discord towards the end here, recall the final chapter of my last story "Discordant Feelings", all of those who haven't read it yet. Thanks for reading! ;)