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// Juror #4 
// Story: The Judgment 
// by Gabriel LaVedier 
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	Fluttershy nervously paced back and forth in the odd space that was the library's second floor. It was a mostly-open space that seemed to be used as a staging area for the small upper loft, Twilight's bedroom area, which was the real focus of the place. The second floor had hardly any reason to be there, it could have just been a straight shot to the bedroom, or that could have been larger.
With a squeak and start Fluttershy realized she was intentionally thinking about trivialities rather than focusing on the real issue. She could do that. She was the world champion. That and 'Shh' were her fortes. Not seeing the important and not making a sound, that was her thing. A quiet creature that wanted almost nothing to do with anything that could be considered vital. She wasn't just a doormat, she was practically a cipher.
It wasn't her place to judge an important matter, something which could impact the future of the nation and all the citizens therein. Her place was caring for woodland creatures and trying to keep Angel from destroying her home. That was... another way of avoiding the real problem. Angel could be good and kind, and often was, but he still had his moods and moments of mischief. The real solution would be to teach him how to be a good bunny, at all times. But she merely went around, cleaning up his messes and making excuses for his moments of weakness. It was her weakness in the end.
She wasn't to blame for the things that happened, but she still had some share of the fault. Not dealing with things head-on created problems. It was like King Minos had tried to teach her. 'Maybes are for babies.' 'If somepony tries to block, show them you rock.' She could change any situation if she faced it. She could... if she thought it would be worth it.
Somewhere within her she was very aware of the fact. She wouldn't like a perfect, cleanly-mannered Angel. He wouldn't be Angel, he'd be some bunny she didn't recognize. He didn't mean to hurt anything, she knew. He was just a rambunctious buck who could be good and bad. It wasn't anything wrong with him. He only needed the kind of guidance she offered him at all times. Love and understanding.
The question before her needed love and understanding, in some sense. She couldn't cuddle the question and give it a spank on the tushie when it was misbehaving, but she could look on the whole thing with her usual care and concern. It was about what it meant for the nation and ponies.
Mares were happy with how things worked. Filly foolers, the law, the others around accepted donor births, accepted the parentage technicalities. Mothers were mothers, however the genetics worked out. There were cards and kisses aplenty, no matter what. All her life she had considered the question of what kind of mother she would make, by birth or marriage, or both depending on how many foals were involved. The question of sire, on any level, had never mattered.
She considered, however, the option had never existed, or been a consideration that had any relevance. It was impossible to consider the question of concepts that simply didn't exist. Now that there was some question it really made her consider. A foal, a little filly, that would be a mix of herself and Rarity, the only mare she had ever latched onto romantically, the core of her adoration. It was a wonderful thought. They could hold a little filly who was half her and half Rarity.
They could have foals the usual way, they could keep them close and love them and it would be wonderful. A filly or a colt could come of that, one of the bigger considerations she had been avoiding. Having foals didn't just impact her, it impacted the land. She didn't want there to be fewer stallions. She liked the ones she knew. Big Macintosh was very nice and polite, Mister Davenport had such a funny way about him when trying to sell her quills or a sofa, Mister Breezy was quite nice about adding extra wires to keep small critters out of the fans he sold her. She would hate to see the number decline because of something she did.
She wasn't supposed to be a doormat, but she had learned about moderation from King Minos as well. She couldn't just force her way on the rest of the world. That would hardly be in keeping with her way. Like trying to change Angel would be bad, trying to change herself too much would simply put a stranger in her skin. She had to get what she really wanted, but likewise not beat the rest of the ponies in the world with what she chose. There were moderate solutions.
Fluttershy timidly opened the stamp pad and vacillated between her two options for a moment. She had her decision, yet didn't quite have it. She knew what would be right, but wasn't sure she could really make that choice. Stamping the paper meant she had actually chosen to do something, and not just look aside and be quiet. However, it was the right thing to do and nothing would stop her from that. She inked her chosen stamp and carefully pressed it to the paper.