//------------------------------// // New Problems // Story: Justice // by TwilightSnarkle //------------------------------// “I don’t see why you have to go back, Worker,” she fumed, pacing through their living room. “It’s only been a month since you left.” “Skyshine, I need to do the right thing.” Worker stood before his suitcase, double-checking its contents. Beside the case was a stack of books detailing the intricacies of Equestrian law. “For this, more than anything. According to that letter, it’s my fault this is happening.” The letter, and its unpleasant contents, sat on their mantle. Skyshine had threatened twice to burn it, as if that would somehow erase the events it described. “Forget the letter, Worker! Remember your wife! I don’t want you to go. You told me yourself that Celestia has no intention of bringing you into this, by name or by reputation. She wants you to have a chance to live out your life, with me, in peace.” “If I don’t go, we won’t have that peace.” “If you do go, you great lummox, I won’t give you any either!” she threatened, stamping a hoof to the floor in anger. “Skyshine, you mean the world to me. You’re my everything, and you always will be. But there are things you do not know, things in my past that, when I try to bring them up, you push away.” “Because they’re not important! They aren’t who you are, now! You’re Worker, a pony of Pasofino, and husband to Skyshine, a pony who is very tired of this conversation. You make toys for children, and wonderful devices that benefit all of Equestria!” “I know all this, Skyshine, and I love every facet of it.” “Then...” She sighed, the fight in her voice dying away. “Why do you have to go?” “Because I would be a poor pony indeed if I abandoned the one who made all that possible.” “But...” “I’m going, Skyshine,” he said, gently but firmly. “You’re welcome to come with me, as I’ve said before. I would miss you otherwise. Even a lummox can miss his loved ones.” Skyshine slumped onto her haunches, defeated. “You win.” Worker walked to stand before his wife, and gently kissed her. “I won when you said ‘I do’, beloved. Now, let me show Luna my gratitude.” She nodded, then rubbed her eyes, and stood. “I’ll go pack something,” she declared sullenly. “If the chariot arrives, let them know I’ll be right out.” “Yes, dear,” he replied. “Shut up,” she snapped, glowering, as she stomped into their bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Worker closed his case, and stared at the bedroom door. He shook his head, picked up his possessions, and arranged them outside on the stoop in preparation for the chariot’s arrival. He heard the soft thump of hooves on the path leading to his door, and turned to greet his visitor. To his surprise, there was more than one. There were, in fact, more than a few, and more filtered down his walk to stand before his home. At the vanguard were Holly, Bulwark, and Saber Dance, along with her daughter Tea Blossom. Behind them stood Whisper, Swift Winds, and Sundown, his upgraded wing nearly indistinguishable from his natural one. A dozen other ponies joined them. Sparks and her family were just now passing the gate, Pearmain lingered outside the fence, and more familiar faces smiled back wherever he looked. There was a moment’s silence as he stood dumbfounded at the sudden gathering. He blinked once, and then twice, trying to think of a proper response. Saber Dance spoke first. “We couldn’t help but overhear the argument. The whole town heard it, actually. We’ve decided the only way this will come to any sense of closure is if, uh...” She chuckled at herself. “I should know better than to try to prepare a speech. Worker, we’re going with you.” “What?” He stared at them in disbelief. “All of you?” “Most of us. We’ve arranged for transportation to the city, which should arrive tonight or tomorrow. We’ll be in Canterlot in time for the opening statements.” “But...” “But nothing. You’ve given this town more than you know. It’s time we gave something back.” “I... thank you. Thank you all, very much.” “Don’t thank us.” Saber Dance replied, nodding towards his front door. “It was Skyshine’s idea.” "What?” He turned abruptly to find Skyshine leaning against the doorjamb. “I said you were a lummox, and I still think so. But I also know the kind of pony you are, and I would never change that. I hope you forgive me for leading you on.” “I have married a very dangerous mare,” he declared. “Hey, I tried to warn you,” claimed Bulwark. There was scattered laughter throughout the crowd, which then organized itself to one side of the path. Worker lifted his parcels, and his wife’s, and hugged the score of ponies in turn as he passed. Skyshine walked behind him, chin held high, a satisfied smile affixed to her muzzle. The courtroom buzzed with quiet conversation as the restless crowd waited for the trial to begin. Most did not know why they were there, save to support a friend. A few in the audience had interest in the law itself, and a scattered hoof-full simply had nothing better to do on a Wednesday. Somewhere in Canterlot, a clock tower chimed, counting the strokes towards noon. At the far end of the courtroom, a door opened, and an older dun stallion with a black mane strode into the room. “All rise for the Princesses, Celestia and Luna. All rise for the Seventh Special Session of the Royal Court.” The buzz vanished, and every pony stood at attention. From his vantage point at the front of the gallery, Worker could see the princesses in a small room beyond the door. They exchanged a quick hug, and then Princess Celestia broke away, entering the courtroom. The bailiff announced to the gathered crowd, “All hail Celestia, Princess of the Sun, and sole Justice for the special session.” Not pausing for recognition, Celestia mounted the short stairs that led to an imposing seat above the crowd at the far end of the room. Behind her, Princess Luna entered, striding towards a table before Celestia’s seat. At her appearance, the bailiff declared, “All hail Luna, Princess of the Night, and defendant for the special session.” A murmur bubbled throughout the gallery. The princess, on trial? How was Worker involved in this? What was the crime? As the crowd reacted, a few other ponies entered the courtroom, and stationed themselves at the desks arranged before Celestia’s bench. The murmuring grew into a dull roar until, suddenly, the bailiff stomped his hooves against the floor. “Order in the court! The Royal Court is now in session!” “Thank you, bailiff,” Celestia said, then turned to the gallery. “My ponies,” she began, her eye pausing on Worker before she continued, “I ask that you remain silent throughout the proceedings. Unless you have cause to speak, any distractions may prove troublesome.” She levitated a small stack of papers before her, aligned them, and then began to read. “The Seventh Special Session of the Equestrian Royal Court concerns itself with the use of banned magics, specifically transformation magics. Solicitor, how does the defendant plead?” “We plead No Contest, Your Highness.” Luna’s solicitor was a thin tan mare, dressed in a severe black suit, with her green mane wrapped into a bun. “We seek to move the trial into the sentencing phase, and wish to plead our case before the court.” “So noted. Prosecutor, as the defendant has entered a plea of No Contest, do you wish to pursue sentencing, or will you rely on the wisdom of the Court?” “Your Highness,” replied an older white stallion in a similar suit, “I am certain that the Court can find an appropriate response without my input.” “Very well. You and your team may be dismissed, and the Court thanks you for your time. Bailiff, please see the prosecutor out.” The small group of ponies in identical suits and ties filed out of the courtroom. As the last pony left, the Bailiff closed the door behind them and stood before it at attention. Celestia rapped her hoof on the floor behind the bar. “The Court moves to the sentencing phase. For the crime of performing banned magics, the sentence is exile. The Court will now hear arguments to modify the severity of this sentence. Any can speak, but first right goes to the defendant.” There was a moment’s silence, interrupted only by a quiet cough from the gallery, before Luna stood. Despite the confidence in gaze, her steps were shaky. She walked to the witness station, turned, positioned herself behind the rail, and faced the gallery. “Justice Celestia,” she began, her gentle voice carrying a power that brought it to every ear. “I do not deny that I cast a spell that is banned, nor do I deny that the spell’s target was unaware of my actions. I do, however, ask for special exemption for two reasons. “The lesser reason I seek exemption is that I was unaware of the ban at the time of casting. Had I been aware of the ban, I would have not cast the spell, as I do not think myself above the law. I do realize, of course, that the law makes little provision for those who are ignorant of its strictures. I undertook my project with an eye solely towards the benefits, and did not desire to usurp, alter, or corrode the strength of law. As the law still stands, I seek the wisdom of the Court to modify my sentence.” Luna steeled herself, and then continued. “The greater reason is one of need. My sist—Justice Celestia, you once spoke of the right of all creatures to a chance at redemption, regardless of station or circumstance. It was this right that I pursued. “Some time ago, I sensed a new voice in dreams. An intense voice, full of promise, and pain, and despair. It intrigued me, and so I took special notice of it. It was the voice of a visitor from another world, one who sought to escape the troubles of his past, and build a new life for himself. This is not an uncommon dream, but it was unique in other ways. It showed a strong desire to grow, to learn, to know, and to belong. “It was that last which caught me most. I know what it means to feel like an outsider, even surrounded by others. I kept an eye on it—on him—and his development. Soon, he discovered a town, and its ponies. Rather than threaten, or flee, he sought to understand. With a friend’s help, he understood far more quickly than he imagined. “Over time, he began to accept the ponies of this town as his friends and his companions. Soon after, he relied on them, and they on him. It was then that I decided to give him the ability to truly belong. “In my study of the spell, I found that the faster the resolution, the more harm that could come to the target. I did not wish to see him harmed, and so I started slowly, allowing minor changes to take place before the final conversion. First came his mane, then a horn, and finally his body as he became a pony in all respects. “In retrospect, it must have been terrifying, but his dreams were regular, and peaceful. Even hopeful, once he learned magic. He felt at peace, and at home. “If I might note a final point for the Court, my spell was limited to the physical. The rest of the changes that he adopted, in thought and deed, were his own. As all are aware, there is no magic that can force a cutie mark to appear earlier than it should. The fact that this pony has his cutie mark should be sign enough that he desired this transformation, even if he did not know it at the time. While I apologize, now, for the manner in which it happened, I do not believe he would have turned it down if offered.” With that, Luna stepped from the witness station, and strode towards her seat. In response, the gallery buzzed once more, as many of the ponies began to put together the reason they were here.  Celestia permitted it for a few moments before again rapping her hoof on the floor. “Order, please. The Court will consider this argument in its deliberation. Are there any others who wish to speak on behalf of the defendant?” Silence reigned. “Very well,” Celestia continued. “The Court shall take a short recess to deliberate. Sentencing resumes at forty-five minutes past the hour.” She struck the floor of the bench once more, and then stepped down the stairs, exiting by the door the bailiff guarded. Worker glanced at the clock, noting the time. Twenty minutes to go. Twenty minutes before he would know his savior’s fate. He was hungry, but he could not bring himself to leave, not while Luna stayed behind. She sat, motionless, staring at the carafe on the table before her, while her solicitor tried to make small talk. After a few minutes, the mare resigned herself to doodling on a pad of yellow paper. Skyshine excused herself with a peck on Worker’s cheek, and left with their friends to get something in their stomachs. Worker continued to watch the clock, both impatient for resolution and fearful of the decision. His mind wandered, and he found himself wondering if Luna knew what he looked like, or if she could identify him by sight, after hearing his dreams. He realized he was staring at her mane, watching it flow in an otherworldly breeze. Then he realized she was staring back at him. He forced his gaze away from her and back to the clock. From the corner of his eye, he noticed her standing, and then approaching. He found his eyes irresistibly drawn back to hers, and then looked away again, swallowing hard. She was just as beautiful as her sister, but in a different fashion, a manner difficult to explain. Her countenance was mysterious, alluring, yet knowing. She stopped a few feet from him, on the other side of the rail. “Worker, I presume?” He hastened to bow in response. “Y-your Highness. Yes, I am Worker.” “Do not feel yourself responsible for this. While I regret what has happened since, I do not regret bringing you closer to your friends and loved ones.” “Nor do I, princess. I thank you for all you’ve done. It is, after all, why I’m here. I hope to be able to provide some small measure of support with my presence.” She smiled in reply, and nodded. “We shall see.” She looked over Worker’s shoulder at a small group of approaching ponies. “Your wife is a beautiful mare, by the by. And she loves you very much.” “That is, perhaps, the only thing I know for sure.” “You are a charmer, sir. I wish you two the best.” Luna turned away, and walked back to her seat where she waited for the clock to mark out the proper time. He could only think to bow in reply. “The princess, hm?” Skyshine teased, faux scandal in her voice. “You’ve met both of them now? Should I be worried?” “Of course not, my dear. What fool would seek a princess when he already has a queen?” Across the gallery, Luna giggled quietly, and then poured herself a glass of water. “You’re horrible, Worker. I love you.” “And I you.” He gave her a gentle kiss, and then nodded towards the clock. “Almost time.” Past the guarded door, with a guarded expression, Celestia paced. Her thoughts churned with possibilities, and her stomach with worry. She argued with herself, imagining the worst, and countering its implications best she could. What do you do, Celestia? What can you do? The law clearly states that the use of that spell, for any reason, results in exile. The fact that the law does not state the duration of the exile does not mean that it is not permanent. Instead, it implies it is. What game are you playing? Celestia poured herself a glass of water from a waiting carafe, and then placed it on the table, forgetting it instantly. And what of the populace, when they hear of this? What of Luna’s reputation, when it emerges that she has committed a magical crime? She’s worked very hard, these last few decades, rebuilding her image to that of a competent and sensitive ruler. “That much is true,” she mused, aloud. “Since her return, Luna’s made incredible strides towards reconnecting with her people. She’s even shed that ridiculous Canterlot Voice. She’s adopted more modern forms of speech and mannerisms, and has worked hard to understand the concerns and wishes of contemporary ponies.” And beyond Luna’s reputation, Celestia, what of Luna? Don’t you care that the very thought of exile is enough to crush her? How much she’s missed you, these last thousand years? Because you sent her away once before? “Of course I care,” she hissed in frustration. “I care a great deal about my sister, more than anything else. But I must also keep Equestria in my thoughts. I must be a ruler who can be trusted. A ruler who respects the law which grants her the right to rule.” And what of the ponies you protect, Celestia? What will they see by your actions? A wise ruler, upholding the word of law, or an unjust opportunist, exiling her sister for a trifle that the majority can never comprehend? You’ve heard the rumors, of course, of the tyrant in the palace. Celestia sighed. Her initial attempts at lifting the mood of her ponies were still whispered about to this day. It was true that her first pranks, to modern sensibilities, would seem needlessly cruel, but it wasn’t as if anyone alive knew the details. Still, doubts lingered from one generation to the next about the alleged bizarre cruelties of the Sun Princess. And what about Worker? Isn’t he tangled up in all this? Isn’t he the central piece? Without his transformation, none of this would have happened, and you and your sister would still be rulers over a peaceful Equestria, side by side. “He does seem remarkably well-adjusted,” she agreed. “He’s even requested an audience with Luna, whenever she is next available. In fact, he seems to be taking the whole event in stride, looking forward to whatever the future holds with an unbridled optimism.” So where’s the problem? No victim, no crime, right? She poked at this idea for a moment, remembering her glass of water. As she sipped, she unraveled the concept. “No. The law has been broken, and whether or not Worker took offense at the changes forced upon him, the law demands a price. “ Unless, by no victim... “No! How could you consider that? I’ve promised him that he faces no responsibility for this, and is permitted to live out his days in peace.” You need to decide, Celestia. You need to choose. Your law? Your reign? Your sister? Your friend? “I...” A gentle rapping sounded at the chamber door. “Your Highness,” called the bailiff, “the recess is about to end.” “Thank you, bailiff,” she replied, forcing her voice into a neutral tone. “I will be right out.” Celestia grimaced, then set her jaw, and strode towards the door. Something had to give.