//------------------------------//
// "True Fire" - aka my failed commission fic for Warden 
// Story: Short Scraps and Explosions 
// by shortskirtsandexplosions 
//------------------------------//

	Aside from "I Remember Rainbow Dash," this is quite easily my worst failure in the fandom.  Months ago, I got on this huge "lulz I can totally do commissions" kick.  To that end, I asked a SATGF lemur--namely Worsty--to provide me with a prompt so I could practice writing someone else's story idea on the fly.  He gave me the blueprint for what would become "The Numbers Don't Lie."  Whelp, we all know how that went.

I was feeling pretty jazzed, like I could take on the world of writing prompts.  So, I asked Worsty to tag someone.  He chose Warden.  Warden mulled the idea over, and ultimately gave me a story idea about Spike being framed for setting the village on fire, then having Rarity represent him in a trial to defend himself, with his future citizenship in Ponyville on the line.  In other words, it was the making of a courtroom drama, with the potential for dramatic shenanigans to rise up later and unravel new legs of the mystery.

I thought it was a nifty idea, not to mention challenging.  So, I made it my goal to work on it.

I didn't even remotely come close to that goal.

You see, there's a reason why I write so much poni poni poni fiction and not--say--Star Trek or M*A*S*H or Xavier Renegade Angel stuff.  I'm a stupid goddam idiot.  Stupid goddam idiots can't write court dramas and somehow make them digestible.

So, what was I to do?  I nevertheless tackled the task, but anyone can see where I kept bumping my head into shiet, trying to make things sound logical and intelligent when I actually had no dayum clue what I was doing.  The biggest problem, really, is that I shot myself in the foot in terms of pacing.  I was obviously going to go beyond the normal limits of a commission fic, for I had chosen to write the story (and the court trial) as viscerally as possible.  And, y'know, that's boring as balls, not to mention predictable.

I stumbled so much over this prompt.  I approached it, abandoned it, approached it again, abandoned it again.  It was never Warden's fault, really.  I just chose the wrong way to go about it and I couldn't for the life of me retrace my steps.  He didn't seem to care much, though.  What I mean to say is, it wasn't that huge of a deal to him, but I was making it a huge deal, as if I had committed to something that I absolutely had to do, but it was tearing up my e-dick each time I so much as sat down to the thing.

Such is the price of excessive hubris, I guess.  This "exercise" taught me, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I do not have what it takes to write other people's story ideas on the fly.  I am simply not commission material, for I cannot make myself write something by principal.  If I am not interested in the story, the sparks just won't fly.  It's as simple as that.   Until I somehow tackle that hump, I can't even pretend to call myself a good writer.  I have been and (for the foreseeable future) shall continue to be amateur at best.

I'm slapping all of the garbage I managed to put together here.  Don't expect any formatting or proper indentation or wutnot.  Why?  Cuz damn this story to Incan Hell.





       "Fillies and gentlecolts of the jury." Adjusting the bifocals over her looming eyes, the judge pivoted to her right and faced twelve ponies seated behind a wooden barricade. "You have seen the evidence that's been brought forth to this case. You have heard the personal testimonies of the eyewitnesses who were present at the scene of devastation that transpired three months ago on the afternoon of August the twelfth. The task ahead of each and every one of you is an important one. As Ponyvillean citizens, and as Equestrian royal subjects, it is your sworn duty to examine the facts that have been presented in this case. After careful deliberation, you shall present the court a verdict that will determine the guilt or innocence of the defendant who now sits before you."

        Fighting a shivering breath, Spike bravely tilted his scaled chin up. From where he sat in the courtroom, he saw the prosecution's bench to his right. The ponies there sat like tightly-suited statues, their faces neutral and cold as they kept their gazes locked on the robed mare presiding above. Beyond them, twelve strangers sat, and they were more frightening in their quiet disposition than any snarling monster or ravenous creature that Spike had seen in all his young life.

        Wincing, he flashed his green eyes once more to the tabletop right in front of him. His vision turned misty as a sore lump formed in his throat.. Just then, he felt a reassuring hoof on his shoulder. Looking up, Spike found the gentle blue eyes of Rarity reflecting his nervous expression. She smiled, a blissfully brief thing, and she resumed sitting at attention beside the other lawyer next to her. Both ponies listened intently to the judge's directions to the jury. Spike tried listening as well, but the sound of his own heartbeat chased most of the words away. Everything felt cold, and yet slippery, like a chilly winter evening, freezing him through his scales. It took all his strength to remain seated and still within that hard, wooden chair in the center of the Ponyville Court House.

        "It is your task to determine, beyond reasonable doubt, whether or not the defendant is guilty of the following three crimes." The judge read off a sheet of paper in her aged hooves. "Arson: wherein the accused is responsible for the willful destruction of public and personal property by fire. Assault and battery: wherein the accused is responsible for the willful harm brought upon fellow equine citizens." After a deep breath, the judge added, "And attempted murder: wherein the accused brought harm upon fellow citizens with the willfull intent of ending their lives."

        As the judge continued speaking, Spike glanced over his shoulder. He saw many faces in the crowd, and most of them harder than diamonds. Of the entire group, the only ones who weren't frowning in his direction were a small bunch located towards the back. The pink shape of a bouncy mare tried waving excitedly, but her orange companion urged her to stay still. Spike's gaze wandered past Pinkie Pie, Applejack, Rainbow Dash and a tearful Fluttershy... until he spotted a lavender face in the crowd whose eyes were nearly as vulnerable as his. He made visual contact with Twilight, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't summon a smile any more than she could.

        "If you the jury find the defendant not guilty of all three of these crimes," said the judge, "then he shall be cleared of all charges and freed from detention to once again enjoy the liberties of a Ponyvillean citizen."

        She adjusted her glasses and leaned forward in her seat.

        "However, if you the jury find the defendant guilty of all three crimes, two of the crimes, or even just one of these charges, then Ponyvillean law states that the court must abide by the Equestrian Security Act, which was established twelve hundred years ago by the Grand Canterlot Court. Within Article IV of the Equestrian Security Act, there is a precedent that states that 'all beastly citizens, classified as canine, feline, serpentine, draconian, centaurian, orcish, or avian, who possess sentience to the degree that they can ascertain the politics and legalities of Equestrian citizenry, who are then determined to be a danger unto the equine populace for reasons related to savage nature, hazardous aura, unpredictable behavior, proclivity to violent crimes or general menace to the society, must thereby be expunged from said society for the safety of the equine citizens who are incapable of individually protecting themselves from such beastly qualities.'"

        Spike clenched his jaw, feeling the eyes of countless ponies upon him. He tried his best not to dig his claws into the edge of the table before him and his two well-dressed representatives.

        The judge continued. "Since the time of his hatching, the Royal Court of Canterlot has officially stated that the defendant is both of draconian descent and capable of sentience. It falls within the definition of the law of this court that the defendant, if found guilty, will be subject to the precedent set forth by Article IV of the Equestrian Security Act. Thus, if you the jury find the defendant guilty of one, two, or all three of the crimes that he is charged with, then the lawful punishment shall be absolute banishment from Equestrian society, which includes forced and strictly adhered expulsion from all equine townships, villages, colonies, farms, and outposts within the known world that fall under Celestial Rule for the rest of the defendant's natural born existence. The defendant will not be allowed to venture into any public Equestrian establishment ever again, or else risk being subjected to forced relocation or even brute force as administered by the local police, the Royal Canterlot Guard, or the various subsidiary branches of the Equestrian Military. He will, however, be allowed to dwell anywhere else within the known world beyond Equestrian Borders, where he will be subject to external law, or lack thereof."

        Placing her papers down, the judge folded her hooves atop the lofty bench and bore a serious expression.

        "It is my duty to remind the jury that the verdict delivered must be determined beyond reasonable doubt. If the defendant is to be found guilty of any single crime, it must involve a unanimous vote by all members with the sincere conviction that he absolutely and unequivocably committed that which he has been accused of, as presented to you by the evidence and testimonies you have witnessed. If the jury determines from the facts presented that there is not enough information to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant has committed these crimes, then the jury will have grounds to deliver a verdict of 'not guilty.' A verdict of 'not guilty' means that the jury finds that the evidence and testimonies are not enough to provide proof of the actual wrongdoings of the accused, and the defendant shall remain innocent within the eyes of the court."

        There was a brief pause as the judge allowed the jury to digest those words. A few voices in the dead-still courtroom coughed, but otherwise is was as quiet as a flooded grave. At last, the judge picked up the gavel in the crook of her hoof and spoke yet again.

        "Now, the bailiff shall guide you the jury to a room where you will proceed with deliberation. If you fail to reach your verdicts by sundown today, you shall be escorted to your sequestered housing, and come morning of the following day, you shall be brought back to the court to continue seeking your verdicts. In the event that your verdicts cannot be reached after several attempts at deliberation, it is the task of the forepony of the jury to inform the court, and a 'hung jury' shall be declared."

        She slapped the gavel down and stood up.

        "You are dismissed."

        The room immediately broke into hushed murmurs. Spike felt the world rise up around him while he remained glued to his seat. He fidgeted, watching as the jury filed out one by one through a side door beyond their barricade. Leading them was a purple-coated unicorn in a police uniform. All it took was one stabbing glance from the bailiff's forest green eyes, and Spike instantly looked away from her, cringeing.

        "Spike?" Rarity's voice murmured from above. Once again, he felt her gentle hoof on his shoulder. "What is it?"

        "N-nothing," he murmured. "Just..." He sighed. "I'm so tired of seeing uniforms all the time..."

        Just as he said this, two straight-faced stallions wearing gear identical to the bailiff's strolled up, looming like monoliths.

        "Whoops..." He gulped nervously. "Guess I spoke too soon..."

        "Miss Rarity," spoke the defense lawyer beside her. He was a young, frail thing with a mat of brown mane hair and a thick pair of glasses. Leaning in, he said, "It's best we not linger for too long with the whole court watching. Remember Magnet vs Ponyville?"

        Rarity shuddered. "You're right, Eagle. Let's not put on a show." Clearing her throat, she stood up, levitating a briefcase beside her finely suited self. "Come along, Spike. The jury has a place to go, and so do we."

        Spike gave a nervous nod, standing up. Almost immediately, the guards took position on either side of him, as if they were about to sandwich the young dragon. He shuddered, but nevertheless strolled towards a side door with an anxious shuffle. He heard the hoofsteps of Rarity and the other lawyer behind him. Looking to his left, he squinted past the limbs of the guards, catching hints and glimpses of the grand courtroom beyond.

        Most of the ponies had shuffled out. Some of them remained seated, as if waiting for curtains to fall. Spike saw emotionally distraught equines, and those citizens saw him. It was not a pleasant set of staring faces: Spike spotted furrowed brows, eyes stabbing him like daggers, and glaring ponies with their bodies patched up in various places from month-old burns and scrapes.

        Behind an angrily muttering group of citizens, Spike spotted the familiar shades of his closest friends. Applejack and Pinkie Pie were busy hugging Fluttershy close, comforting her as she buried her quietly sobbing face into their shoulders. Rainbow Dash hovered in the corner beside the Equestrian flag, frowning with her forelimbs crossed. Twilight sat in the middle walkway, her gaze fallen helplessly to the tile floor and her ears drooped under a forlorn cloud of hopelessness. Spike noticed her head tilting up, and his heart jumped upon almost seeing her glistening violet eyes.

        Then he saw nothing, for he was being escorted down a long, barren walkway. The guards on either side of Spike made loud clopping noises as their hooves echoed through the long chamber. Their gait closed in even tighter as they led him down an all-too-familiar stairwell and into the grim basement beyond.

        "Really, guys," Spike couldn't help but murmur, his scaled jaws tight. "It's not like I'm gonna hurt you. Seriously..."

        "Spike, dear..." Rarity's voice floated overhead, reminding Spike that he wasn't half as alone as he had thought. The tone was both chiding and loving; there was no denying the grimness to it, to everything.

        Spike sighed into the shadows of the place as they arrived at a glass-reinforced door. A stallion knocked on it. A few seconds later, a slit slid open, revealing the squinting eyes of a guard on the other side. The slit closed shut. Several locks buzzed and clattered, and soon the heavy metal door swung open. The guards resumed their steady march, forcing Spike to waddle along in between them. The solemn parade shuffled along two guard stations, past no less than three tightly-uniformed ponies on watch, and at last through another metal door.

        Here, two jail cells resided, each reinforced by thick iron bars. There were no windows in either chamber: only twin overhead lights and a rotating fan positioned above a simple mattress next to a small toilet.

        One of the guards fumbled through a set of keys before unlocking a cell. Spike didn't need any guidance at this point. As soon as the loud grinding sound of the sliding bars ceased, he shuffled limply towards the mattress in the corner of the chamber. The guard stared pointedly at Spike's two representatives.

        Swallowing, Rarity turned to her partner. "Legal Eagle, there's undoubtedly going to be a great deal of press outside the courthouse."

        Eagle awkwardly blinked from beneath his glasses. "But I thought we had decided that we weren't going to entertain any questions from the media..."

        "It would at least be showing a good face to appear and politely refuse to make comments," Rarity said as she softly trotted into the cell after Spike. "The public doesn't need to think that we're silently brooding over the deliberation, especially after the way they've tried sensationalizing things."

        Legal Eagle took a long, deep breath. He adjusted his collar and nodded. "Very well, Rarity. You know best. I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything about the jury's progress." He swiveled about to trot back upstairs along with a guard.

        "And Eagle?"

        He paused and glanced over his shoulder. "Hmmm?"

        She smiled at him. "Thank you so very much. For everything."

        He blinked, then smiled gently back. "I'm proud to be working on this case. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." He tilted his head and spoke into the cell, "Hang in there, Spike. I know you've been having a wild ride, but we're going to get you through this. I promise." He trotted away, his hooves making cold echoes against the walls of the detention chamber.

        Spike simply sat on the mattress and curled up, hugging his scaled knees to his chest.

        Rarity blinked at him. With a quiet breath, she turned and gazed at the guard.

        He nodded back, then slid the barred door shut. Quietly, the stallion trotted away, though his presence still lingered just around the corner of the detention center. The other guards' shadows mingled along the fringes of the place, adding to the sleeplessness that permeated the white concrete walls and cold stale floors.

        Rarity shuffled over to the mattress. Slowly, she sat down beside Spike, exhaling the stress and tension of the day. It did little to relieve either of them. Rarity fidgeted, adjusting the collar of her suit and fluffing her bunned mane. Her eyes were cold, icy blue things as she gazed forward in contemplation.

        After a long space in time, Spike murmured over his hugged knees. "He doesn't believe I'm innocent, does he?"

        "Hmmm?" Rarity turned towards him. She raised an eyebrow. "Legal Eagle?"

        "Yeah..."

        "Don't be ridiculous, darling!" She smiled. "He and I go way back in our days together at Trottingham University. He's never taken a case unless he completely and utterly believes in it. I've told you so when all of this started!"

        "I know. It's just that he's so serious and by the book. It's hard to think that he believes in me at times," Spike said. Suffering a cold chill, he glanced into the corner of the detention cell. "I'm starting to think that nopony believes in me anymore."

        "How could you say that?!" Rarity exclaimed. "Your friends believe in you! Half of the witnesses most certainly believe in you!" She added with a smile, "I believe in you!"

        "And what of the jury, huh?" Spike glanced up, his purple brow furrowed. "You so sure that they believe in me?"

        "Oh, b-but of course, dear!"

        "Then why are you and everypony I know so... so..." He winced as he finally hissed, "So gloomy?"

        Rarity opened her mouth to speak. She lingered, squirming where she sat. Finally, after a nervous swallow, she spoke in an alarmingly somber tone. "Spike, so much of the prosecution's case rests upon circumstantial evidence. It is the jury's job to remove all shred of doubt in their deliberation, and I daresay that the facts Eagle and I have presented make that an impossible thing to do."

        "Then how come everypony on the jury looks at me like I'm something evil?"

        Rarity's voice took on a merry tone, "They most certainly do not!"

        "That's easy for you to say. You're not the one they've been glaring at the whole time."

        "Spike..."

        "You're not the one whom everyone thinks is dangerous to the very ponies he loves to hang out with." He swung his legs and jumped down onto the floor, pacing anxiously. "You're not the one whom everyone is afraid of, who they swore they saw doing bad things."

        "Spike, please, you must remain calm—"

        "You haven't had burnt buildings and hurt ponies tacked onto your name!" he grumbled, swiveling around to frown at her. "Rarity, even if things somehow go my way, everypony's still gonna think I'm evil for as long as I live!"

        Rarity's face took on a pained expression. She suddenly had to avoid his gaze.

        With a sigh, he rubbed one arm with a clawed hand and stared at the floor. "Face it, Rarity. I am guilty." He clenched his teeth, then said, "I'm guilty of being born a dragon..."

        She sighed. Her eyes were moist, but nevertheless she kept a calm demeanor as she stood up from the cot and trotted over. "Spike, look at me."

        He didn't at first, not until she squatted before him and tilted his chin up.

        She smiled, a generous yet painful thing. "You may think that you're alone, but you're not. I will be with you every step of the way."

        "And if they all decide that I'm guilty and should be banished—?"

        "That won't happen, Spike," Rarity said firmly, her jaw clenched in a righteous frown. "And even if it does somehow come to that, I will appeal like there is no tomorrow. I'll take the fight all the way to the Court of Canterlot!"

        "But what if it does happen anyway, Rarity?" Spike gripped her forelimb in a pair of squeezing hands. His voice wavered. "Will I ever get to see you guys again?"

        She smiled, then leaned in to nuzzle him. "Oh Spike, nothing could ever separate us. Nothing. You're still my precious little Spikey Wikey, after all."

        "Brrrrr..." Spike shuddered. "Thank goodness you don't call me that in the court."

        "Hmmmm..." She smiled, stifling a chuckle. "No, I suppose that would not go over well with the judge."

        His lips curved for the briefest of moments, but all too quickly he cleared his throat and said, "I don't... uhhh... suppose that..."

        "What, Spike?"

        He kicked at the floor with one foot and fiddled with his tail. "That they m-might let me see Twilight again?"

        Rarity sighed defeatedly. "I'm afraid not during deliberation, Spike."

        "Yeah..." He winced and glanced towards the far end of the cell. "I sort of figured..." He gulped. "You can't hang out here forever yourself, now can you?"

        "As much as I would like to, Spike, I'm afraid they will have to separate us sooner than later."

        "So, what, then?" He blinked at her. "I'm gonna be all on my lonesome when the jury makes a decision?"

        "Oh, I'll likely get to visit you again before that."

        "Really?" He leaned forward. "You think it's gonna take them that long?"

        Rarity smirked proudly. "I would like to think that Legal Eagle and yours truly gave them a most astounding presentation of the facts, wouldn't you say?"

        "Oh, uh... r-right, er... that is..." Spike fidgeted. "I-I wasn't trying to complain about the way you two have represented me and stuff—"

        "Oh Spike..." She ran a hoof along his green spines. "You really must stop second-guessing yourself. I was merely attempting to be good-humored."

        "Ah... right..." He nodded with a shuddering, half-hearted attempt at a chuckle. Eventually, he murmured, "I'm really going to miss all the ways you and the other girls would tease me." He gulped. "I never thought I'd say that, but... it's t-true..."

        The cell was quiet for a while. Eventually, Rarity spoke up.

        "Spike, do you remember what we talked about a few days ago?"

        He glanced up at her with soft, green eyes.

        With a serious expression, she pulled out a series of sheets from her envelope along with a pen. She rested them in a neat pile on the corner of his cot.

        He glanced between the stationary and her. Sighing, he muttered, "Really, Rarity? This again?"

        "Spike..."

        "We've been through this. I'm not about to stoop to begging or any of that junk."

        "This has nothing to do with begging, Spike."

        "Doesn't it, though?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "As far as the court's concerned, either I'm a terrible monster, or I'm a huge baby. I don't want to act like either! I didn't do anything to this town or any of my pony friends! I know this! So why should I do something desperate about it?!"

        "This has nothing to do with desperation," Rarity said. She pointed at the letters. "It is simply the smart thing to do, Spike. As hard as Eagle and I have worked to defend you, the case may still fall into hooves far mightier than ours."

        He bit his lip and said, "But I thought you said that it wouldn't change the verdict at all."

        "No, but it most certainly wouldn't hurt, Spike," Rarity said softly, gazing at him with a sincere expression. "And, who knows? Maybe you'll find that you simply need to express your feelings."

        "What feelings?" he muttered, avoiding her gaze. "I know when my luck's run out. If the jury finds me guilty, I've got nothing."

        "You have your words, Spike," Rarity said. "And I think they deserve to be shared just as much as you deserve justice."

        He said nothing, even as she drifted over to rest a hoof on his shoulder one last time.

        "If not for yourself, then do it for me, Spike," she remarked. "And for Twilight... and for your friends. We want you to stay with us just as much as you do."

        He slowly, limply nodded.

        "What do you say...?"

        Eventually, he looked up. He said, "I think... uh... I think I n-need to be alone for a bit."

        Rarity reflected his expression with gentle blue eyes. She agreed with a nod. "Very well. Are you certain you don't wish me to stay with you a little longer?"

        "It's okay, Rarity." He patted her hoof and gave a grateful smile. "Go. Go see Sweetie Belle. I know you've been missing out on a ton of chances to be with her lately and, well, who am I to keep you?"

        She opened her mouth to protest, but lingered. Ultimately, she gave him a soft smile. "Alright, then." She made to leave, but a tiny purple weight tugged on her.

        "Whatever happens, Rarity," he said, his voice softer than falling snow. "I want you to know that I'm thankful. And..." He hissed through clenched teeth and stammered, "And I... I-I..."

        She silenced him with a tender-hearted nuzzle, whispering, "I know, Spike." Her eyelashes fluttered, enchanting the otherwise melancholic moment. "You don't have to tell me twice." She gestured one last time towards the corner of the bed. "Prove it. Give the letter a try."

        And like that, they parted ways. Rarity called the guard, and the answering stallion broke the silence with the rattling noise of the opening and shutting jail door. Soon, Spike was alone in the cell, with only a bundle of blank sheets to keep him company. He waddled back and forth, pacing across the lengths of the cell, pretending with all his might to be ignoring the papers.

        He failed.

        Soon enough, with a defeated groan, he shuffled over to the mattress, plopped down, and placed the first of several sheets before him. It wasn't until he held the pen in his clawed grip that he felt the coldness of the room settle through to his bones. Each breath was more painful than the one previous, and it welled moisture in the corners of his eyes. In a blink, Spike thought of Twilight, and he forced his gaze dry.

        Clearing his throat, he stroked the pen across the paper, and began writing.



        Dear Princess Celestia,

        I've been putting this off for a long time. Just what is this, anyway? Well, it's a letter, of course. But I'm not sure it's the kind of letter that Rarity, Twilight, and the others want me to write. Everypony has been begging that I write you, and I guess I can kind of understand why. It's not just because you're the Princess of Equestria, but because we have a nifty past together. I never thought much about it, but it was actually pretty cool to hang out with you as much as I did. I don't think I ever really realized how amazing that was until I started living far away from Canterlot along with Twilight, and everypony around here gasped in delight and bowed low whenever you showed up. You're a pretty big deal here in Ponyville, your Highness. I mean, of course you are. You're the Princess.

        So yeah, anyway, you probably heard about what happened in Ponyville. Heck, I'm guessing all of Equestria has heard by now. I don't think it ever stops freaking me out: to think that so many ponies are angry at me or are afraid of me. All of my life, I only ever wanted to do nice things for ponies. I've seen crazy things happen—bad and frightening things—but not once did I think that I would be placed into the center of it all. I mean, sure, I've done some pretty stupid things in my life, stuff that I've truly been guilty of, like messing up things in the library or eating too much ice cream or trying to make it look like Owlicious ate a mouse when he really didn't. But this? I never expected this, and it really stinks, cuz I totally didn't do any of the things ponies are accusing me of, and it hurts me every time to think about it. I haven't told Rarity or Twilight, but it keeps me up at night. But I guess anypony could have guessed that.

        Rarity pretty much wants me to make a plea with you. She explained all of the super technical stuff about it, and I only got bits and pieces. But, from what I understand, if the Ponyville jury finds me guilty, nothing can change the decision they've made. But, I guess there's some sort of "appeals" process that can go all the way to the Court of Canterlot, and even all the way to you. So, like, if I write to you about my situation ahead of time, you and your royal authority might be able to make it so that my verdict doesn't exactly get me banished from Ponyville. And that sounds kind of cool, actually. If most of the ponies in town don't like me, I guess I could live with that, so long as I get to hang out with my friends or whatever.

        You're probably wondering why I haven't written to you sooner. No doubt Twilight has told you tons about what's going on. I'm glad that nopony has forced me to write you, though Rarity almost did just now. I can't blame her, really. The jury's deciding my future and stuff after all.

        It's hard to explain, Your Highness, but even if you could help me, I don't don't think it would change things. Does that make sense at all to you? It really doesn't make sense to me. I've been spending so many nights in this jail cell, that I might as well be as guilty as everypony thinks I am. Yeah, I know, they call it "detention," but it's pretty much a prison. It looks like a jail cell, it smells like a jail cell, it feels like a jail cell; it's jail.

        Anyways, so what if things go the way Rarity, Legal Eagle and I hope? Yeah, that'd be cool. I'd do anything to be free from this place, from feeling like I'm some monster that has to be locked up. But will all of the bad stuff really go away?

        I just feel so... so ugly. Well, no, I guess that's not the way to put it. Rarity told me that I have words to share, but I only have one: "ugly." Ugly, ugly, ugly—this whole thing is ugly. And even if I come out of all this as "not guilty," I really don't think I'll ever be able to wash all the ugliness off.

        So, you see, I don't feel like I can ask anything from you, Your Highness. I don't want to change who and what these ponies are, even if just to change what they think of me. Something terrible happened to them, to the whole village, and I really wanna know what caused it, but I can't because everyone is too busy pointing their hooves in my direction. In a way, I kind of feel like it's my fault that the real cause for the bad stuff in Ponyville hasn't been discovered. If I wasn't in the wrong place at the wrong time, then maybe something good could have been done about it. Instead, I'm here in this jail cell, all of Ponyville is buzzing about me, and everything is just so... ugly.

        I'm so glad for what Rarity has done for me. Could you let her know that yourself when you get the chance, Your Highness? I know that's a strange request, even a selfish one, but there are times when I think she doesn't believe me, or believe the way I feel about things.

        She says that I'm not alone, and that I'll never be alone. But that's not true, is it? I never thought about it much before, but it's on my mind all the time now. I am alone. I've always been alone.

        Twilight's taken care of me, sure. I know that her friends have been there to support me as well. You yourself have graced me with your awesomeness. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm alone, that I'm still just a dragon, and that in the end—when everything is measured up against everything—I'm a monster, or at least a monster in the making.

        And, really, Your Highness, who's to know? I've heard the stuff that the prosecution has said. I've heard the words spoken when witnesses were examined and cross-examined and... and I'm starting to wonder.

        What if I am guilty? What if I'm guilty and I just don't know it?

        It's so hard to think clearly about it anymore. My memory is so cloudy and full of all the crazy junk that's gone on in court and all the ugliness of it all. Maybe Rarity is right about one thing, though. Maybe writing to you about it—or just writing—can help me figure it all out, in a way that neither the lawyers or the jury or the judge can figure it all out.

        As far as I can recall, everything started about four months ago, with the mother of all headaches...

































        "Unnnghh..." Spike groaned, his clenched eyes stirring as he clawed at the corners of his tiny bed inside Twilight's upstairs room. "Mmmf... guh..."

        His lids opened, revealing two bleary eyeslits.

        "Please tell me this is from all the sapphire pizza that I ate last night," he muttered, reaching a hand up to his skull. The purple scales were burning hot. What's more, the green spines were positively scorching. A hiss of steam emanated from where his claws made contact. "Owch!" He winced, curling even tighter into a fetal position. "Ohhhh... don't tell me I've got a fever too..."

        Rolling over, he tried sleeping it off. However, slumber would not come. His nostrils kept flaring, and he resisted the terrible urge to sneeze. As the weariness cleared from his throbbing head, he became aware of a sulfuric smell about the place.

        Tilting his head up, he glanced at the edges of his bed. The wicker framework was charred black. As a matter of fact, burn marks stained the wooden floor of Twilight's bedroom immediately surrounding him.

        "Huh...?"

        He sniffed... then sniffed again. As the bedroom around him came into focus, it immediately lost that focus, for there was smoke clouding about the ceiling. In a blink or two, Spike caught the undeniable sight of Twilight's rug burning in a wild blaze.

        "Whoah!" He jumped—only to slam backwards into the hoofrest of Twilight's bed. He winced, his world turning bright from the terrible migraine that was aggrivated by the headbump. "Unghh—Ah jeez!" He stood up and waddled numbly towards the flickering fire. "Uhhh... Uhhh..." He danced left and right from one foot to another, biting on his claws. Shivering, he called towards the far end of the treehouse. "Twilight?! Uhhh... Twiliiiiight?! We've got a little problem up heeeeere!"

        With a burst of orange heat, the fire consumed the other half of the rug.

        "Ack! More like a b-big problem!" Spike stammered.

        He spun around, looking for something—anything—that could put out the blaze. He spotted a vase of flowers. Picking it up, he spun and shook the glass basin at the burning rug. An array of plastic stems with dry styrofoam roots clattered innocuously across the floor.

        "Darn it!" he squeaked.

        Tossing the vase aside, Spike spotted a thick duvet lying over the back of a reading chair. Grabbing it, he flung the thick length of the fabric over the blaze, then proceeded to stomp all over the top of it, starving the flames underneath. Soon, a stream of smoke squeezed out the edge of the duvet, and dissolved into a brown haze.

        Spike panted and panted, wiping the sweat off his feverish brow. Hesitantly, he peeled the duvet up by its edges, wincing at the sight that graced him beneath.

        The rug was burned through and through. Upon closer examination, Spike spotted a fine, powdery ash. When he ran his clawed fingers through the sifting sediment, he couldn't help but marvel at its unique color.

        "It's... it's green," he muttered to himself. "Is this...?" He gulped. "Could it...?"

        Another wave of smoke struck his nostrils. He stared blankly at the rug; it wasn't burning. After a few moments of blank thought, he jumped straight up with a gasp.

        "There's another fire!"

        Like a purple blur, he dashed downstairs.

        Almost tripping a few times, Spike paused to shout, "Twilight! Twilight, where are you?! There's a fire!" At last, he stumbled to the bottom of the stairs, freezing in his tracks. "Ahhh—jee-jee—jee!"

        An emormous bookcase had been knocked over completely in the center of the library's main reading room. Not only were the contents of the shelves spilled out all over the floor, but—

        "The books!" Spike gasped, dashing immediately into action.

        A thick cloud of smoke threatened to choke him as he flew towards the edge of the burning pile of tomes. He pulled out as many as he could, but flinched as he found the fire spreading immediately before him. Looking all around, he saw a mop and a bucket lying in the center of the room. In a blink, he had tossed the mop loose and was running to the nearest bathroom with the bucket. He filled the container up faster than he had filled any basin in his life, and by the time he returned, the fire had almost spread to the drapes lining a nearby window.

        "Come on... Come on..." He held his breath as he gave the water a good toss. Half of the blazes were stuffed out, and the rest he gave a good stomping with his thick-scaled dragon's feet. "Nnngh! Ghhh! Out! Out! Out!" He slumped down once the fire was reduced to a smoldering bed of ashes. "Yeesh... what in the... I mean how in the...?"

        Spike froze in place. His nostrils flared once more, for he was yet again smelling smoke, and it was far more pungent than ever this time.

        "Huh?" He looked around, hugging the pale to his scaled chest. "It isn't from inside. What gives?"

        The smell intensified, but this time it was not alone. Something pierced the walls of the place, making the windows rattle within their panes. It was a sound of some sort: reverberating, piercing. Spike looked outside, but all he could see was a heavy mist wafting over the streets of Ponyville. Nervously, he waddled towards the door, surprised to see the entrance hanging slightly ajar on its hinges.

        He brought a clawed hand to the knob, but suddenly paused. A trio of deep gashes had been carved into the wooden finish of the door. His mouth hung open, but he had no words to label the awkward sight. Leaning forward, he gripped the door, and swung the squeaky thing open.

        His face was immediately bathed in heat. Thunderous crackling lit his ear, punctuated by errant screams and a dozen voices shouting for help, water, and rescue. Then, there was the ringing noise of his very own bucket falling down beside his feet.

        "Holy guacamole..." Spike murmured, his eyeslits shrinking as they reflected a veritable horizon of dancing green flame. "How in the heck...?!"

        A trio of stallions charged past him, all heaving a giant trough of splashing water. Their eyes were wide with panic and their coats were covered in soot. Gazing after them, Spike saw a pair of ponies trotting in the opposite direction with a gurney stretched between them. Atop the stretcher was a whimpering mare who was busy clutching her blood-red elbow in agony.

        Spike covered his mouth with a clawed hand, trying to hold in his lunch. He heard a loud voice shouting towards the north, and his heart raced.

        "M-Miss Cheerilee!" he exclaimed.

        Spike dashed immediately out of the treehouse—but he skidded in his tracks, spun about, and ran back to pick up his pail. Once more, he charged into the madness. Trees were smoldering left and right. The Equestrian Flag flew loosely by, its billowing edges spitting ash and tatters. Waves of smoke dipped low, parting ways to reveal thick droves of stallions and mares gathered at building fronts, dousing the windows with hoses of gushing water.

        Spike gritted his teeth. He didn't know where to go first; Cheerilee's shouts rang in his ears, and he ultimately zig-zagged in random directions, utterly choked by the bedlam on all sides.

        Just then, a wailing sob sounded off from his right. Spike spun his head to look, gasping aloud as he stopped in his tracks. The second story of Sugarcube Corner was ablaze. The burning wooden effigy of an enormous cupcake fell with a sparkling crash. Just a few inches away, miraculously untouched by the falling debris, was Pumpkin Cake. She sat in the grass alone, covered in soot, and lost in hysterics.

        "Pumpkin!" Spike dashed over. "Oh jeez! What are you doing out here—?"

        "D-darling, it's okay!" sputtered a familiar voice. Spike saw Mrs. Cake hobbling over with a terrible limp. Her left rear leg was bleeding terribly, but that didn't stop her from picking Pumpkin up in one swoop. "Mommy's here! Oh, I searched everywhere for you, my baby girl!" She nuzzled the foal dearly as tears sprang from her eyes.

        "Oh good! You're in one piece!" Spike closed the distance and stood before her, panting. "Mrs. Cake, have you seen Twilight? There were two fires in the library when I woke up, and I just heard Cheerilee shouting and—a-and I don't know what's going on!"

        Mrs. Cake took one look at Spike, and her eyes exploded like she had seen a ghost. Hissing through clenched teeth, she held her sobbing infant close and bounded away as swiftly as two and a half limbs could afford her.

        "Whoah! Hey!" Spike reached out for her. "I didn't mean to spook you! Please, I wanna help!" He made to chase after her, but he heard Cheerilee's voice again. This time, her shouts were joined with several others. Grimacing, Spike forced himself to turn away from Mrs. Cake and ran in the direction of the yelling.

        Spike passed by several families who were huddled together, sobbing as they embraced along the fringes of burnt-out buildings. A wave of ash flew into Spike's face. He coughed and wheezed, waving his bucket in front of him like a clumsy, metal fan.

        "Unngh... What...?" He sniffed, making a face. "More sulfur? What happened here—?"

        "More water, everypony!" Cheerilee's frantic voice could be heard shouting. Gazing through the billowing smoke, Spike finally saw her standing before the Town Hall, directing local equines back and forth as they rushed to dip shallow pails into the village's fountain, collecting more and more water to toss at the flames. A group of young, shivering foals huddled between the schoolteacher and the fountain. "Stay where you are, children!" she exclaimed. "Away from the flames! Keep your heads low! Take short breaths! I promise, I'll get you back to your parents!" Cheerilee turned and shouted once more to the galloping mares and stallions. "Faster! We can't let this spread any further!"

        Spike ran towards her, but tripped on something. "Ummf!" He fell flat on his belly. Looking down, he saw that his foot was caught in a thin gash in the soil. What was more, several more gashes stretched out across the ash-littered courtyard, like scratch marks. "What is... Nnnngh—Not now!" He stumbled up to his two feet and ran towards Cheerilee. "Hey! Hey, Ms. Cheerilee!"

        "Someone shout out if you see the Mayor!" Cheerilee continued to yell, her mane a mess and her coat ruined in several places by first-degree burns. Despite her pain, she maintained strict control of the hectic situation. "She'll know what building we should save next! Just focus on the Town Hall for now—!"

        "Cheerilee! Hey!" Spike practically jumped in front of her, waving his stubby arms. "Have you seen Twilight?! If anypony can fix this in a jiffy, I bet she can!"

        Cheerilee glanced past Spike—then did a double-take. She stumbled back from him, her face full of horror, her jaw dropped.

        Spike gazed blankly at her. "Cheerilee? What's the matter—?"

        Several loud clangs and splashes echoed from behind him. Spike pivoted around. Three ponies had dropped their buckets, gawking fearfully at the young dragon.

        He squinted. "It... What...?"

        "M-Miss Cheerilee!" one of the foals stammered. She pointed a trembling hoof and began to cry. All of the huddled foals were breaking into traumatic sobs. "It's him! It's the one!"

        "I... I don't get it. What's 'the one?;" Spike turned to Cheerilee, but she was gone. He detected a ruby blur in his peripheral vision. Spinning around, he saw the schoolteacher dashing over to stand protectively in front of the sobbing cluster of children.

        She gulped and held a trembling hoof out towards him. "D-don't come any closer, Spike."

        "Cheerilee...?"

        "Please, just... j-just keep your distance," Cheerilee quivered to say. She swallowed deeply and squeaked, "Let's just wait f-for Twilight to get here. She'll fix you."

        Spike's eyes narrowed. "Fix me?"

        "Stay calm..."

        "Cheerilee, I can totally help you—" He took one step forward.

        Three foals shrieked at once. Cheerilee bore an instant frown as she shouted, "Back!"

        The little whelp hopped away from her, hugging his bucket so hard it crumpled down the middle. "Ch-Cheerilee?" Spike's teeth chattered. "I... I-I don't get it! Wh-what's wrong?"

        "Ms. Cheerilee!" Nurse Redheart's voice exclaimed. Spike turned to see her marching up with another paramedic, carrying a shivering, soot-stained body on a stretcher. "We're forming triage inside the bowling alley. It's the only side of the village that hasn't caught fire. If you see the Mayor, tell her that we should send the injured to the west side!"

        "Nurse Redheart, please go there as quickly as you can," Cheerilee said in a steady tone.

        "Huh?" Redheart blinked.

        Cheerilee's eyes silently swam in Spike's direction.

        Redheart followed them. She inhaled sharply, and her already alabaster coat paled even more. A tremble shook through her, jarring the patient on the stretcher.

        "Unnngh..." Wincing in pain, Roseluck turned over. Half of her face was charred black with burns. As soon as she saw Spike, her eyes widened, and her pained wails turned into shrieks of pure terror. "No! No! Not him! Get him away!"

        "Calm down," the other paramedic insisted. "You must stay—"

        "Get him out of here!" Roseluck shrieked, tears pouring into her wounded scabs as she thrashed on the stretcher, kicking her hooves at the air between the ponies and the speechless dragon. "I don't want to be anywhere near him! My home is gone! My skin—Unnnngh—Celestiaaa it hurtssss!"

        "Redheart—!" Cheerilee blurted.

        The two paramedics swiftly rushed the agonized mare away from the scene. Spike could barely see them at this point, for he had dropped the bucket and was feverishly scooting backwards from everypony. He bumped into a slab of granite. Looking up, he saw the statue of Princess Celestia, only the face had been obscured by a series of deep scratches. As a matter of fact, the entire effigy of the regal alicorn was marred with claw marks from mane to tail. And it wasn't just the statue, for Spike's eyes swam along a swath of destruction to see several small, deep gashes carved into the wood, soil, granite, and even the rooftops of the place. A low, whimpering voice poured out of him, and he spun one last time—only to be engulfed in the color of lavender.

        "Spike!" Twilight gasped, her mane disheveled as she levitated three enormous bathtubs of water all around her. Catching her breath, she gulped and said, "What's the matter?"

        His lips quivered. Without thinking, he plunged forward and hugged her close. His trembles shook into her, making the unicorn wobble on her hooves.

        "Oh Tw-Twilight..." Spike stifled a sob, his eyes clenched shut to hide the devastation. They failed. "I don't kn-know..."

        Twilight glanced at him, then at the line of ponies gazing in absolute silence at her trusted apprentice. With careful concentration, she lowered the three basins of water carefully to the ground and knelt down to grasp his shoulders. Forcing him to look up at her, she said, "Spike, what's happening around here?"

        "I... I-I woke up to a fire upstairs in the library," he stammered. He tried pointing home, but he couldn't tell north from south anymore; there was too much smoke and madness. "And I came out here, and everything was on fire out here too. And Mrs. Cake ran away from me, and Roseluck... sh-she's hurt... she's hurt bad... and... and..."

        "Spike, I need you to calm down," Twilight said, glancing fitfully between the blazing fires that needed to be put out and the panic-stricken dragon that needed to be consoled. "What do you mean Mrs. Cake ran from you—?"

        "Twilight! For crying out loud!" A blue blur settled in place overhead. Rainbow Dash's flapping wings momentarily cooled them as she frowned and grumbled, "What are you sitting around here for?! The Town Hall is the one thing that's spreading the blaze from the south end of town to the north! You need to put it out as soon as possible! On top of that, my team and I need more water for putting out the post office! You should be grabbing gallons from the lake for us by now!"

        "Rainbow, I..." Twilight winced as she held Spike close and looked up from the confusing scene. "Something's going on here—"

        "Spike? Is that you?!" Rainbow squinted down at him, then brightened. "Perfect! Listen you gotta send a letter to the Princess, pronto! We've got a huge situation here—"

        "No!" shouted a hysterical voice from the sidelines. Everypony—including Cheerilee's group—turned to see Mrs. Cake and her family standing to the side of a building beset with deep gashes and scorch marks. The mare hugged Pumpkin to her neck with one arm and pointed a furious hoof at Spike with the other. "Don't let him spit up one more breath of fire!"

        Like clockwork, several glaring ponies gathered beside her and shouted angrily into the air: "Yeah!" "Clamp his jaws shut!" "Take the dragon away!" "Enough is enough!"

        "Excuse me?!" Rainbow's voice cracked, her face frowning from where she hovered overhead. "Look, now's not the time for... wh-whatever this is! Don't you see that we've got a buckton of fires to put out?!"

        "No, don't you see?!" a stallion grunted as he marched within spitting distance of Twilight and pointed at the whelp in her arms. "We've got the problem right there!"

        Spike trembled, his eyes watering. Twilight hugged him and spun her shoulder protectively towards the rambunctious crowd. "What in Starswirl's name has gotten into you, everypony?!" She barked over the raging fires, frowning. "We're a team here!"

        "Some of us, certainly!" Mrs. Cake choked on a sob as she hugged her infant even tighter. Mr. Cake leaned in to nuzzle her as she breathily said, "At least those of us who aren't trying to roast the others to a crisp!"

        "Wh-what?!" Twilight gasped, her jaw hanging open wide. "That... th-that..." She blinked heavily. "What are you even trying to say?!"

        "I'm here, everypony!" the Mayor's voice called out from beyond the nearby alleyway. "Where is he?! I've got Ponyville's finest right here!"

        Mr. Cake spun and shouted to the air, "Just this way, officers!"

        Several more ponies shouted and pointed in Spike's direction.

        Twilight's gaze flashed numbly around. A thick wall of villagers marched forward, their angry frowns darker than the smoke billowing overhead. Spike clung to his mentor, trembling as the shadows of furious equines closed in from all around.

        In the meantime, Rainbow Dash wached the scene from up high. She hovered in a circle, her eyes sweeping across the sights of Ponyville, leaping from the green fires to the greener ash to the thin gashes in the buildings to the sobbing huddle of foals squatting directly behind Cheerilee. Just then, her face paled. In a sapphiric blur, Rainbow darted down and yanked Spike out from beneath Twilight's hooves.

        "What—?!" Twilight did a double-take. "Rainbow, what are you doing?!"

        "What do you think?!" With the whelp in her grasp, she, barreled about and rocketed over the flames, making for the far edges of Ponyville and beyond. "Hang tight, Spike! I'm getting you the hay out of here!"

        "But... b-but..." Spike reached down helplessly as the wind muted his stammering voice. "Twilight!"

        Her lavender shape was but a trembling drop in a great well of churning, stampeding bodies. Dozens upon hundreds of ponies shouted and shook their hooves furiously in the air. The unmistakable shapes of uniformed police stallions threaded through the thick mob, blowing shrilly on their whistles. Soon, everything was covered in a fine dark mist, billowing out from randomly scattered plumes of bright flame, all burning with a bright emerald.

        "Leaping lizards..." Spike exhaled bitterly, his eyes quivering as he hung from Rainbow's speedy grasp. "Ponyville... It's... It's..."

        "Yeah. Pretty much screwed, like everything else is today," Rainbow grunted. "But never you mind! I'm getting you the heck out of dodge!"

        Spike's mouth hung open. He blinked... then blinked again. A deep, bitter chill ran through his body. When the trembling reached his mouth, it flung the next few words out. "No, Rainbow..."

        She cast him a strange look in mid-flight. "Huh?!"

        "You gotta put me down..."

        "My flank, I do!" She frowned and shot forward even faster, blazing past the treetops below. "I need to take you far away from here until the craziness boils over—"

        "No, you need to put out those fires!" Spike shouted back in the windy altitude. "The ponies are depending on the likes of you to save the whole town!"

        "Not until I have you safe—"

        "Safe from what?" Spike twisted in her grip and yanked at her mane. "Rainbow! Come on! Put me down!"

        "Gaaah! Ow ow ow ow ow!" Rainbow hissed and winced from his clawed grip. "Unngh! Cut it out, will ya?! Oh for Pete's sake..." In a sudden nose-dive, Rainbow flung the two of them earthward. She slowed their descent just meters before slamming into the ground, ultimately perching at the very edge of Everfree Forest, far from the smell of the town's acrid smoke. "Spike, get a clue! You're totally in danger and crap!"

        "I'm in danger?!" Spike barked. Wriggling free of her grasp, he turned and pointed towards the burning rooftops in the distance. "Rainbow, all of my friends back there are hurting! I wanna help them!"

        "Yeah, well, too bad!" Rainbow sprouted her wings for emphasis as she grunted, "Cuz it looks to me like they wanna wring your neck!"

        "But that doesn't change the fact that I still care for them!" Spike exclaimed, clasping his hands together before the pegasus. "Rainbow, please. Fly us back and put out those fires, pronto! I'll stay out of everypony's way, I promise!"

        "Spike—Nghhh..." She face-hoofed and groaned. "I can't believe we're arguing about this. Spike, let's be real—"

        Just then, the air crackled as Twilight materialized in between them from a long-ranged teleport. They jumped back as she wobbled with momentary dizziness, shook her head, then spun to face them with a gasp. "Spike!" She frowned at Rainbow Dash. "Rainbow, what's going on?!"

        "You tell me!" Rainbow's voice cracked as she pointed at the whelp. "Your apprentice here is begging to go back to town!"

        "Look, Rainbow," Spike said, "I'm glad you saved me from that mob back there—"

        "It wasn't a mob!" Twilight exclaimed.

        "Uhhh... Equestria to Twilight!" Rainbow stared her down. "It was totally a mob!"

        "They were just confused!" Twilight said, though she was evidently hyperventilating. She tried to hide her anxiety by shouting, "Those fires came from nowhere and lots of ponies are hurt! They're panicking!"

        "Twilight, it was a mob and they wanted Spike!" Rainbow said, frowning. "And I think we all know why!"

        "But... But..." Twilight hissed through her teeth. Wincing, she brought a hoof over her brow and tried taking deep, deep breaths. "Okay. Okay... let's just look at this from a realistic point of view..."

        "Twilight, there's no time for that!" Rainbow's voice cracked. "Who's to know they haven't sent a whole bunch of police officers to come get him?!"

        "The p-police?!" Spike jumped.

        "Yes, Spike, the pony po-po!" Rainbow grunted. "Or did you not even think to consider them when you asked to be taken back to that snake pit?!"

        Spike gazed down at his clawed hands. He blinked, and in that blink he saw several buildings with tiny gashes carved into them. "Twilight..." he murmured.

        "I can meet with the Mayor," Twilight thought out loud. "I'll try to talk some sense into her..."

        "T-talk some sense?!" Rainbow balked as she hovered before her. "Do you even hear yourself?! You saw how nutso she had gone! Just like everypony else!"

        "Still..." Twilight gulped. "After all the stuff we've done for Ponyville—after all the things Spike has done to save the day when worst came to worst—you'd think she would listen to reason and—"

        "Twilight?" Spike sniffled, his eyes beginning to water. "What... wh-what if what happened to me on my l-last birthday is happening again?"

        Twilight looked at him. Her eyes softened. "Oh Spike, that's... th-that's impossible! I mean—"

        Rainbow's head tilted into Spike's view. "You haven't been hoarding any stuff lately, have you?"

        "Rainbow!" Twilight protested.

        "No! I haven't!" Spike fought tears as he crossed his heart. "Honest!"

        "It has to be something else!" Twilight exclaimed.

        "Like what?!" Rainbow shrugged from where she hovered. "If we have no clue, then what's the hope of convincing the townsfolk that nothing's screwy?!"

        "What if it is me?!" Spike whimpered. "What... what if this is some dragon thing that none of us even know about?!"

        "Oh Spike..." Twilight smiled painfully as she shook her head. "Even if you did lose control, you're so small and your lungs can only hold so much flame and—"

        "Twilight! Rainbow!" A voice chirped from above. A yellow figure flew into view. "Oh, will you please, please help me? The Mayor has asked me to—" Fluttershy stopped in midair, her eyes wide as she covered a gasping mouth. "Mmm! Sp-Spike!"

        Twilight and Rainbow followed the path of Fluttershy's quivering gaze. "It's okay, Fluttershy," Twilight said. "We brought Spike here because the ponies in town were acting really scary and—"

        "How... h-how did he...?" Fluttershy pointed a trembling hoof at Spike as she descended limply towards the forest floor. "Wh-where did he...?"

        "Calm down, Fluttershy!" Rainbow Dash exclaimed, gripping the pegasus' shoulders. "It's totally cool! Spike wouldn't hurt a fly! You know this!"

        "But... b-but..." Fluttershy stammered, her face twitching.

        "Fluttershy...?" Twilight leaned forward. "You were about to tell us something... about the Mayor..."

        Fluttershy gulped, not once taking her eyes off Spike as she said, "The Mayor had asked all p-pegasi who aren't fast enough to stop the fires to g-go looking for injured ponies. But not me."

        "What do you mean?" Rainbow Dash asked.

        "She told me personally to g-go looking for Spike, because as Ponyville's animal t-tamer I... I might be... erm..." She gulped. "I might be able to 'calm the beast down,' she said..."

        "'Calm... the beast?'" Twilight asked.

        "This is sooooo nuts!" Rainbow grunted, tossing her forelimbs. "What's gotten into everypony?! Why do they want Spike's head on a platter?!"

        "Mmmmm..." Fluttershy's cheeks went red as she hid her face behind a lock of pink mane.

        "Fluttershy...?" Twilight murmured.

        "Fluttershy, what is it?" Spike waddled forward a few steps. "Why are you... so fr-freaked out by me?"

        "Because..." Fluttershy's eyes watered as she fought rising sobs. "B-because I s-saw you, Spike. I saw you running around... breathing f-fire on the housetops. I saw it with my own eyes." She sniffed and hid her face in her forelimbs. "I d-didn't tell anypony, b-because I didn't want to believe it. Oh, Spike, please... pl-please tell me you d-didn't mean to do those horrible things. Please tell me it was just some magic spell or something that caused you to do it..."

        Spike's jaw dropped. He gazed helplessly at Twilight and Rainbow.

        Twilight had trotted over to Fluttershy's side. "Fluttershy, could... c-could this somehow have been your imagination or—?"

        Fluttershy merely flung herself into Twilight's forelimbs, forcing the unicorn to embrace her hysterically sobbing form. Biting her lip, Twilight gazed at the others.

        Rainbow was grimacing. "Okay... Okay, look... we just... uh... we just got to do what I was doing. We gotta take him someplace safe until this all settles and—"

        "No..."

        The ponies looked at Spike.

        His eyes were watering like Fluttershy's, but even then he stood tall and proud. "I don't care what Fluttershy saw. I don't care what Mrs. Cake or Roseluck or all the other upset ponies of Ponyville thought they saw." He gazed emphatically at his dear friends. "I didn't burn all of those houses down! And if for some crazy reason I did, I totally don't remember it."

        "You're saying..." Rainbow's eyes squinted. "...that this was some sort of spell or crud?"

        "I'm saying that I need to go back. I can't... I-I can't run from this, you guys!" Spike exclaimed, gesturing for emphasis. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do. Believe me. But the last thing I need to do is ditch the ponies I care for when so much bad has happened."

        "Spike..." Twilight patted Fluttershy's sobbing form as she gazed softly at him. "If you go back, you'll be facing more than angry ponies—"

        "They'll beat him to a purple pulp!" Rainbow said.

        Twilight merely frowned at her, then looked back at Spike. "They'll throw you in jail, Spike. You're likely prime suspect for all of the fires and hurt ponies and—"

        "Twilight, don't you wanna find out who really caused this?"

        Twilight bit her lip. She and Rainbow Dash nervously exchanged glances.

        Spike took a deep breath. Frowning, he bravely said, "Well, I totally do. And the more I cooperate, the more likely we are to find out what the truth is!"

        "Spike..." Rainbow protested one last time. "Think about this. Think hard. This isn't going to solve anything!"

        He exhaled heavily and said, "It'll solve more than if I ran away from it all."
        





























        The rotating fan hummed above the detention cell as Spike sat on the edge of his cot, continuing to write on the sheets that Rarity had left for him. Every now and then, he would pause, tapping the pen against his chin as he gazed off in thoughtful silence.

        Then, with a sigh, he scribbled further down the page, pouring his memories and feelings out one line at a time. In somber silence, he waited out the hours that it took for his verdict to be deliberated...



        There's a part of me that wishes I didn't make that super crazy decision to go back into town. I'm kind of ashamed to say that I really wanted to do what Rainbow Dash was suggesting. I wanted to run away, to leave all of that scariness behind, to distance myself from those burning buildings and hurt ponies. But I couldn't do that, your Highness. I just love Ponyville too much, and if there's anything I've learned from writing so many of Twilight's letters on friendship to you, it's that one must take responsibility for a lot of the things that happen in life.

        The ponies of Ponyville are my friends. The simple thought of possibly being connected to whatever hurt them freaked me out big-time. I felt it was necessary to be with them, solving the mystery of the fires along with everypony.

        Of course, if I knew what I knew now, that there was just so much cr—er... junk stacked up against me, then maybe I would have... I dunno.. gone about it a bit differently. Not that I would have hidden myself away or anything like that, but maybe I wouldn't have pretty much thrown myself at their mercy like some guilt-stricken fugitive.

        After all, though nothing horrible happened per se, I probably should have thought a bit more about... well... about how what I chose to do freaked out those closest to me...


        "Was it absolutely necessary to bind his hands like this?!" Twilight Sparkle angrily shouted. "Somepony, anypony, please explain to me why it was necessary to bind his hands together!"

        Spike sat on a bench in the jail cell of Ponyville's Police Department. He glanced at his purple wrists. Several tight loops of twine had been haphazardly wrapped around them. He knew that it took just a single bite from his fangs or one puff of green smoke from his lungs to undo them, but he did nothing. He merely sat where he was, sighing as his ears throbbed from yet another of Twilight's angry outbursts.

        "He's a baby dragon, for Celestia's sake!" Twilight barked, frowning at the company of uniformed ponies who stood outside the locked jail cell along with her. "This whole thing is nonsense! Even if he had it in him to go feral and attack all of us, he couldn't hurt a fly!"

        "Miss Sparkle, we understand that you're upset," the oldest and highest ranking of several police officers said. A placid expression stretched across his aged face. "But, quite frankly, we couldn't take any risks!" It had been a solid twenty-four hours since the last fire in town had been put out, and even down there in the basement of the police station, a smoky mist hung about the brightly-lit air. "We have over a dozen eyewitnesses claiming that they saw the dragon setting half the buildings in downtown ablaze. You hang out with the little guy all the time. Have you forgotten the large plumes of green smoke he's capable of spitting up?"

        "And have you forgotten that the only reason he's here is because he chose to come back?!" Twilight frowned, pointing into the cell. "Since when does a mindless arsonist return to the scene of the crime?!"

        "Twilight, please..." Spike smiled nervously from inside the cell. "I'm fine. They're only d-doing their job—"

        "No, they're just scared of something they don't understand!" Twilight retorted loudly, making him wince. "That's the real crux of what's going on here! Nopony understands anything!"

        "Miss Sparkle..." The older officer sighed, gesturing gently with his hooves. "Please, calm down. The department isn't completely unreasonable. We brought you down here for the whelp's sake. But if you're going to keep making a scene—"

        "No, you just have me here because you're afraid of him and you think I'm the only one who can hold him at bay!" She gritted her teeth. "Take those ridiculous binds off him now..."

        The officer stared squarely at her. "You know very well that I cannot do that. Just as you're loyal to the Princess with your correspondence, I'm bound to protect and serve the ponies of this town. Right now, we're in an emergency situation, and I can't untie the dragon any more than I would allow myself to unbind a timberwolf or a manticore or an ursa minor in our custody."

        "But... It... He..." Twilight sputtered. With a groan, she trudged through the group of officers and approached a gray figure seated on a stool in the corner of the room. "Ms. Mayor, please, reason with them..." Twilight pointed once more towards the jail cell. "My apprentice shouldn't have to be treated like some common beast!"

        Shifting uncomfortably in her fresh bandages and burn wounds, the Mayor avoided Twilight's gaze and said, "I'm afraid I am not in the position to agree with you, Miss Sparkle."

        Twilight's ears drooped. "What...?"

        The Mayor frowned as she spoke, "I know you care very much for Spike, and though there have been many times when he's served this community with unquestionable loyalty, his record hasn't exactly been spotless."

        "What are you saying?!" Twilight gasped. She blinked a few times, then narrowed her eyes. "Wait, do you mean—?"

        "Not a day has gone by when I haven't thought about the time he grew one hundred times his normal size and went on an unstoppable rampage..."

        "Rampage?!" Twilight squeaked. "He was suffering from a draconian ailment! And if you're going to give me an earful about the damage caused to the town's water tower and the rooftop of Sugarcube Corner, let me remind you that Princess Celestia more than covered for—"

        "This is different, Twilight, and you know it!" the Mayor said. With a somber exhale, she added, "What happened wasn't caused by a behemoth bent on hoarding random objects. Buildings were roasted aflame, royal statues were defaced..." Her eyes narrowed behind her bifocals. "...and ponies were hurt. Ponies were hurt badly."

        Twilight gulped, yet frowned as she said, "We have no direct proof that Spike caused any of that."

        "Don't we?" The Mayor cocked her head to the side. "Dozens of eyewitnesses? Buildings lit up by green flame with claw marks everywhere?"

        "All of that is circumstantial at best!"

        "I'm not about to take that risk," the Mayor said. "I'm sorry, Twilight, but there's too much at stake. Spike is an unpredictable element in this town. I won't feel safe—and I can name at least one hundred citizens who won't feel safe—unless he is forced to live elsewhere."

        Spike glanced up from his cell. His lips quivered.

        Twilight blinked wide. "You... y-you're talking banishment..."

        "I'm talking about what's necessary."

        "No, you're talking about needlessly cruel punishment for a young, helpless, infant whelp!" Twilight practically snarled as she gestured at the cell. "How could you treat him like that?! After all he's done as a loyal Ponyvillean citizen?!"

        "He has to be an equine to count as a citizen, Miss Sparkle."

        Twilight did a double-take. "Oh, you're kidding me! Is this what everything's coming to?"

        "I'm afraid she has a point, Miss Sparkle," the officer said. The unicorn spun to look at him as he said, "The little fella there doesn't exactly fall under standard Equestrian law."

        Twilight's brow furrowed. "Since when?!"

        The officer raised an eyebrow. "Since always. He's a dragon, Miss Sparkle. Surely you were aware of the risks that had to be taken when you brought him here from the spires of Canterlot to begin with."

        "I... I..." Twilight slumped to her haunches and ran a hoof through her bangs, gazing at the floor in silence. "I knew about the parameters, but... but I never thought..." She gulped, then gazed sadly towards the cells. "I never anticipated..."

        Spike hung his gaze in defeat.

        "It was bound to happen sooner or later, Miss Sparkle," the officer said. "A close friend, an apprentice, and even a foster child he may be, but he's still a dragon. And there's a long, sordid history of laws equipped to deal with individuals of draconian nature living amongst ponies, and not one of them grants the rights of citizenship."

        Just then, an elegant voice echoed into the basement chamber. "And yet, a dragon can be found to receive the representation of a pony citizen, if one went far enough to do the research."

        Everypony turned around to see a white unicorn trotting proudly down the steps from the first floor of the station. Accompanied by two officers and an attorney in a fine suit, Rarity tilted her nose up and levitated a scroll towards the center of the room.

        "I have here a letter from Judge Winters of the Ponyville Court. I do believe it specifically pertains to this pressing situation."

        "Rarity!" Twilight gasped, jumping up to her hooves. She seemed shocked to see the unicorn. "What are you doing here?! I mean... with... after what happened to..." She winced, avoiding Rarity's face for some reason

        "What...?" Spike jumped up, pressing himself up to the bars. "Rarity? What's going on?"

        The fashionista casted him a side glance and a refined smile. "Simply delivering a bountiful helping of justice, darling." Clearing her throat, she looked at the stallion in front of her. "Officer, be a good fellow and give that a thorough perusal, if you could..."

        The older pony grasped the scroll in midair. He unrolled it and squinted his eyes, reading down the lines. An officer or two read over his shoulders with blank expressions. After a few seconds, the stallion glanced up at Rarity. "When did Judge Winters sign this?"

        "Just this morning," spoke the attorney beside Rarity. "Miss Rarity held an interview with the judge shortly after she arrived at the courthouse. It appears, after doing some heavy research overnight, she found a relavent clause in the lawbooks on draconian representation that the rest of us missed."

        "Hmmm... How could you be blamed?" The officer nodded. "It'll make for a very rare case." He gestured towards two of his fellow officers. "Okay, boys. Let him out of there."

        "Excuse me?!" The Mayor jumped to her hooves, gasping. "Have you forgotten that we have a potentially dangerous beast in our midst?"

        Rarity tossed her mane in the Mayor's direciton. "Has anyone forgotten to tell you that you still smell like burnt cravette today?"

        The Mayor's eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon...?"

        "It so happens that 'this dangerous beast' here was hatched within the walls of Canterlot's Educational District—Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, to be exact—which, in case you have forgotten, falls within the boundaries of Celestia's personal real estate." Rarity motioned towards the jail cell as two officers began unlocking it. "As such, he is officially considered a royal subject, and is not to be treated like a common animal."

        The Mayor frowned. "The Princess' pet phoenix is also a 'royal subject,' but that doesn't change the fact that it's an animal, and a potentially dangerous one at that."

        "True, but Article IV Subsection B of the Equestrian Security Act states that the rights of citizenry can extend to all creatures of 'sentient nature,' which—believe it or not—is something you and Spikey Wikey here both have in common."

        "This is ridiculous! He's a dr-dragon!" The Mayor exclaimed. "Just two days ago, my town was burning and filled with distraught ponies, and you're trying to tell me that—"

        "If you got caught in dragon country, and you were accused of a crime, wouldn't you deserve the full extent of the law?"

        The Mayor took a deep, fuming breath. "It so happens that dragonkind isn't known for having laws..."

        "What a glorious blessing, then, that Spike is living under the boundaries of our system, within which a politician such as yourself has so righteously excelled," Rarity said, smiling smugly in her face.

        The barred doors of the cell slid loudly open. Spike bounded out—only to collapse under the close nuzzle of Twilight. She gave him a tearful smile, but it didn't last long. Two officers marched over and placed their hooves firmly on the whelp's shoulders.

        The older stallion stepped into the thick of the group. He turned to Rarity and the attorney next to her. "You do understand that I will still have to provide an escort at all times."

        "But of course, officer."

        "If I'm to understand the judge's instructions, he will be relocated to a detention cell—"

        "Which, if I've done my research correctly," Rarity spoke as she trotted through the group, "Is considerably less... nnngh... grim than this lowly hovel, though that is not saying much." Clearing her throat, she leaned over and spoke to the small dragon. "You must come along. But, more importantly, Spike, you must abide by all of the instructions provided you by the judge and these kindly officers who are only here to protect you. Do you understand?"

        Spike nodded shakily. He gulped and managed a weak smile. "Jee, thanks a lot, Rarity—"

        "Do not thank me yet," Rarity said as the group proceeded slowly up the steps leading away from the grungy jail cells. "This is but a first step in seeing justice served."

        "But it's still a step!" Twilight exclaimed as she trotted up quickly to keep up with the group. She smiled proudly at Rarity. "It's the only gesture that anypony has bothered to make since this craziness began!"

        "Quite frankly, nopony would have given it a thought," the attorney beside Rarity said. He glanced back with an awkward smirk while trotting. "It took a sharp mind to realize that the Equestrian Security Act had a loophole to get the dragon out of here—"

        "His name is Spike, sir," Rarity said.

        "Yes, of course. My apologies." The attorney cleared his throat. "Nevertheless, that's a sign of sharp legal skills if I ever witnessed them."

        "Rarity...?" Twilight blinked in mid-trot. "Where in all of your days of dress-making did you learn how to skim through the law books?"

        "That's just the thing, Twilight, dear..." Rarity tongued the inside of her mouth as she spoke aloud, "Contrary to popular belief, I did not exactly attend 'Dress-Making 101' in school, since no such learning course truly exists that can make an artist out of the inert mud of one's flagrant youth."

        "Oh?"

        "Haven't you talked to Fluttershy on the topic, dear?" Rarity smiled thinly as they clambered up the stairs. "I attended law school for the better part of my younger years. It was my parents' insistence, after all. You know how pressing one's family can be..."

        "Come to think of it, I do recall you talking a little bit about that!" Twilight exclaimed. She stifled a giggle. "Rarity, I don't care how you feel about your schooling, but you just saved the day!"

        "Only because it took some dashing flare to accomplish, is all," Rarity remarked.

        "So, uh..." Spike stammered as he struggled to step in line with the officers beside him. His bound hands squirmed together. "Since you're such an expert when it comes to the law and stuff, Rarity, do you know what happens next?"

        Rarity took a deep breath. "One thing at a time, Spike. There's still an awful lot to go through with the judge. As discouraging as it is to say, the Mayor isn't the only high ranking pony of these parts who is less than ecstatic about the prospect of taking this case through the courts."

        "You mean like an actual court case?" Twilight remarked. "But, Rarity, this... this would be an unprecedented circumstance!"

        "Huh?" Spike murmured, shaking nervously. "What do you mean?"

        "It means that there's never been a case like this before, Spike," Rarity said, gazing ahead of the group as they reached the first floor of the police station. Dozens of ponies froze to gawk incredulously at the procession. "It will take a certain degree of finesse to execute, especially on the defense's end."

        "There's hardly a soul in Ponyville who isn't gunning to see Spike get banished over what's happened," Twilight said. "Rarity, could we even find a pony willing to represent him?"

        Rarity took a deep breath as they approached the outer doors of the place. The light of day shone brightly on her, and she said, "Actually, come to think of it, I believe we just did..."


        I couldn't believe my luck, your Highness. Not only was I going to get a lawyer, but she was going to be none other than Rarity! I may have been in the pits because of what happened in Ponyville, but that was—like—the best news I could ever receive. I think I actually smiled nonstop for the first two or three days after I was dragged out of that jail. Sure, the detention cell that I was moved to inside the court building wasn't all that much better than the jail, but I guess it was the thought that counted. After all, I was about to be tried like any normal pony citizen.

        Yeesh. It's kind of gross to write it that way: "like any normal pony citizen." All my life, I never put much thought into how different I've been from all of my close friends, at least from a natural standpoint. Living in Canterlot Castle was easy, because ponies there were used to seeing baby dragons. I mean, there's a nursery in the Royal Wing full of eggs just like the one I was hatched from. I always knew that. Twilight never held back the truth about how I was born—at least how much of it she knew.

        Anyways, I grew up around ponies who knew all about me and how I came to be Twilight's assistant. So, like, everything was cool. I guess the fact that I've always been too small or puny to do anything dangerous has been a real big help.

        Then, when Twilight and I moved to Ponyville, things weren't all that different. Well, maybe they were a little bit different. Like Fluttershy, for instance. She gushed all over me the first time we met. And yet, there would still be moments when I'd accidentally sneak up on her and startle her. It was all because she had this fear of dragons. I really couldn't blame her. Ponyville is out in the country, and there are a lot less pegasus guards to ward off dragons when they migrate or go on big hunts.

        Still, Ponyville really wasn't all that different from Canterlot, at least in the way ponies treated me. Every now and then I would hear a couple of mares talking about how scary the Great Dragon Migration was or a stallion or two telling a casual tale of when pony knights would vanquish or slay dragons of olde, but none of that bothered me much. Not really.

        But to think that—all of this time—I haven't legally qualified as an Equestrian citizen? Because of the fact that I'm a dragon? Because I am somehow "beastly" in nature?

        I guess it goes without saying: Rarity's legal loophole came in the nick of time. It spared me from having to be treated like a dangerous dog foaming at the mouth, or some other nasty creature that needed to be put down. More importantly, I think what Rarity did kept me from having to feel the pain and frustration that would come with such treatment. Well, I feel it a little, especially now after how things have gone down. But I've meandered off the beaten path of this story enough as it is.

        So, yeah, Rarity pleaded for my case. From what I was told, the judge took some heavy convincing before she was willing to give me a full trial. A good week and a half passed before Rarity had any new developments to share with me. It boggled my mind just how long the whole process was taking. Weren't enough ponies hurt in this town? Weren't enough buildings burnt and destroyed? Didn't enough bad stuff happen that the public demanded justice? Why wait so long to give me a trial? The sooner we all got it over with, the sooner I could have been proclaimed innocent and then the citizens of Ponyville could have tried to chase down whoever was actually responsible for this mess.

        I started to have some less than pleasant thoughts. What if the ponies didn't want anyone else to be responsible for the fires and injuries suffered? What if they were convinced—beyond the reach of the justice system—that I was the one and only individual who caused all this craziness? Rarity tried explaining to me that, in Equestrian law, a citizen is "innocent" until proven "guilty." I've really wanted to believe that, your Highness. I really have. But as more time went by and the glares doubled and the long-winded hours of waiting tripled, I started to have my doubts. I was the only dragon in the area that anypony knew about. It's only natural that all hooves would be pointed at me. It wasn't so much that I was the smartest choice; I was simply the easiest choice.

        Well, Rarity certainly wasn't about to make it easy for them. I have always admired her in... my own ways, but I had no idea just how awesome she was until that week immediately following what happened in Ponyville. Rarity had said time and time again that her legal skills were super rusty compared to her dressmaking, but she could have fooled me. She spent hours and hours—losing beauty sleep and Boutique clients—just doing nothing but pouring through the books on law, coming up with advantages and angles and precedents to help my case. Not only was she spectacular at the task she had at hoof, but she was humble too. What I mean to say is that she realized one pony alone couldn't help me out of that situation. She needed assistance, and so she called in a friend from her law school days in Canterlot.


        "And after having this 'sapphire pizza'...." Legal Eagle adjusted the bifocals on the bridge of his nose and leaned over a levitating notebook full of notes. "What did you do?"

        "I went to bed," Spike said, shrugging from where he sat on the edge of his cot inside his detention cell. "I slept all night. From sundown to... to..." Spike scratched his head. "Come to think of it, when did all the bad stuff happen in Ponyville?"

        "Two o'clock in the afternoon, Spike." Rarity spoke emphatically from where she sat in the corner with a briefcase and a levitating notebook of her own. Her purple mane was tightened up in a bun—a noticeably unfashionable look for her. She tried to hide several days' lines of exhaustion on her pale face as she squinted across the way at the dragon. "We've been over this Celestia-knows how many times! It was just six minutes past two o'clock when the incident in Ponyville began. Mrs. Cake, the first pony you recall talking to, claims it was around ten minutes past three o'clock when she saw you with the bucket outside of Sugarcube Corner—or at least what was left of it."

        "And eyewitnesses claim that they saw a 'small figure with violet scales' breathing fire and tearing up the landscape as early as ten minutes after two o'clock," Legal Eagle added.

        Spike exchanged glances with both of them. "I don't get it. What are you trying to get at?"

        "Simply piecing the story together, Mr. Spike," Eagle said, scribbling into his notebook. His tone had a strangely melodic ring to it, as if the young stallion had to hum in between spoken words in order to concentrate on his work. "So far, you don't exactly have the strongest allibi for us to stand on. The prosecution has more than likely constructed their own version of the story by now, and they'll undoubtedly claim that your 'nap time' was taken up doing far less innocent things."

        "Th-they will?" Spike gulped, fidgeting with his clawed fingers. "Just who are we going up against, anyway?"

        "Three attorneys," Rarity remarked. "Though, their strength isn't in numbers." She sighed out the side of her muzzle as she stated, "Blind Justice is leading the case."

        "Who's Blind Justice?" Spike asked.

        Legal Eagle answered, his expression a little too enthusiastic, "Only the most irreputable prosecutor this side of Equestria! He's handled many famous cases, stuff that's being talked about in places as far away as Manehattan to this day, and he's won most of them too." The stallion polished his glasses while staring dazedly through the detention cell floor. "Ponyville vs Purple Prose. Ponyville vs Straight Edge. The Everfree Kidnappings Case..."

        "Whew..." Spike bit his lip. "I'm guessing he's happy to take on a case involving some 'horribly evil dragon.' It must be the perfect cap to a big career."

        "He's hardly a mustache-twirling villain, Spike," Rarity said. "I highly doubt Blind Justice is seeking fame in acting as lead prosecutor for this case."

        "Yeah. The stallion made national news after the Everfree Kidnapper was convicted," Eagle remarked. "He's already been to the top."

        "Then why's this case so important to him?" Spike asked.

        "Simply that his conviction is the same as ours," Eagle said, putting his glasses back on. "He's seeking the truth."

        "But... if a lawyer that impressive is on the other side..." Spike gulped. "How in the heck are we gonna get ponies to believe that I'm not guilty?"

        "By exposing the truth with far greater finesse than he ever could!" Rarity said, her nose tilted up as she bore the slightest of smirks. "Though, it would certainly help to have a little more faith in us, darling..."

        Spike hung his head, shivering a little. "I'm sorry..."

        "Don't be." Rarity rested a hoof on his shoulder. "You've been through a lot, but you must not get despondent. We will see you through this. The evidence lies between the lines set by the circumstantial observations made so far by those who only think they saw what they saw."

        Spike squinted curiously at her. "Is that why they're always saying that true justice is blind?"

        "Pony names aside, it's an accurate analogy," Rarity said with a grin.

        "The key here is to look beyond base assumptions and find facts within the evidence and testimonies available to us," Eagle said, flipping through his notebook. "While so many of the eyewitnesses are biased, we gotta pick and choose bits that we can toss at the jury, so that they can see without any obscurity or shred of doubt."

        "And if doubt is all they have to see or taste..." Rarity smiled. "Then we can use that to prove—"

        "—that I'm innocent?!" Spike exclaimed, leaning forward with a bright expression.

        Rarity fidgeted, fumbling for words. "Er... that you are 'not guilty,' Spike."

        He leaned back, blinking. "That's good enough... r-right?"

        "In most cases, pretty much," Legal Eagle thought aloud.

        "Speaking of the jury..." Spike leaned his head aside. "Have the ponies been chosen already?"

        "Almost, Spike," Rarity said.

        "Wow, still?" Spike folded his arms. "Does stuff like this have to take forever?"

        "The speedier a trial, the more unfair it's likely to be," Legal Eagle said. "At least that's been my experience. Believe it or not, the longer you have to wait for things to come into fruition, the more time you can spend counting your blessings."

        "Yeah, but I'm totally innocent!" Spike exclaimed. He pointed at himself and uttered, "While I'm sitting in here trying to defend myself, whoever or whatever's responsible for burning half of Ponyville could be out there, doing more terrible things... or preparing to!"

        "We're doing our best to get you through this safely—"

        "What about Ponyville's safety?! I mean, I'm glad that you've both found a way to help me out, but isn't everypony still in danger?"

        "Spike, darling, one thing at a time," Rarity insisted. "Yes, we all have the safety of Ponyville to uphold. But right now, all that my good friend and I here can do is ensure you receive the justice that you deserve. Ponyville will recover from what has happened, but something will be lost forever if you get banished from this place and we were unable to prevent it."

        Spike shuddered. "So, that's what's at stake here? I-I could get kicked out of town... out of Equestria... forever?"

        Legal Eagle took a deep breath. "Not if we have anything to do with it. Let's not dwell on that or Blind Justice or the real danger to Ponyville. Right now, let's continue to reconstruct the events of August the twelfth, so that we may have something to present the court." He flipped through his notebook yet again and leaned forward. "So, when you woke up from your long, long sleep, describe how you felt..."


        We reconstructed that awful day. And then we re-reconstructed it. And then we did it again and again until I could no longer sit straight. I was too anxious to fall asleep from tedium, so I sort of just sat there in a daze, listening as one pony I cared about and one I hardly even knew discussed both my recent past and my looming fate in hushed tones.

        In fact, the most I ever spoke to anypony ever was when I stood at court before the judge and personally declared myself as "not guilty." At that point, I thought the trial was going to go full-steam, but I was wrong. There was the process of presenting evidence and selecting the jury and establishing statement after statement...

        I never thought that stuff that would determine my legal fate could be something so horrifically boring. It didn't help that I was spending more time than I would have wished lying down on the cot in my detention cell, alone during all of those long nights, listening as the hours ticked by, trying to make sense of what was happening to me—of all confusing little things that I simply couldn't control.

        Thankfully, Rarity made the process as easy for me to understand as possible. She outlined the aspects of the trial one by one, making it simple enough for a dragon whelp as young as me to grasp. Apparently, several samples of burnt buildings were going to be presented as evidence, along with hard foam casts made of the countless "claw marks" that were found all over town. She told me that the prosecution was going to attempt connecting the scratches to the measurements made of my hands and feet shortly after I arrived in jail the night after all the bad stuff went down. As for the burn marks on the building samples, she claimed that Twilight was doing a whole ton of research and that she was already finding ways to refute whatever claims the prosecution was going to make.

        Apparently, there was a whole ton of witnesses being lined up to be questioned before the court. The prosecution was having a field day with picking all sorts of ponies who insisted they saw me doing terrible things across town. Rarity said that she and Legal Eagle had already drawn up a means of cross-examination to prove that they didn't see "me," per se, but something that couldn't be defined by them or testimony. Suddenly, it seemed like it was no longer a matter of proving I didn't do anything wrong, but rather that anyone or anything else was just as capable. It was then that I started to understand the whole "beyond a reasonable doubt" stuff, but it didn't really make me feel any more at ease about the case.

        I asked Rarity about who she and Eagle had chosen as witnesses for when it was our turn to present the case to the court. Twilight Sparkle was a given—but she also listed off Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, and several other ponies I happened to know quite personally. In addition to trying to prove that any eyewitness accounts of me on August twelfth were purely circumstantial, they were going to paint a positive portrait of me to the court, showing that my past history didn't support the kind of rampage most ponies claimed I had committed.

        I then asked Rarity if Fluttershy was going to be questioned just like the rest of the ponies. Rarity didn't answer me right away. Instead, she looked really worried, sad even. Eventually, she said that Fluttershy would have words to give and help my case, but it would come from cross examination.

        But didn't that mean that she was being called by the prosecution's side? I asked Rarity, and she only nodded in silence. I wondered just what that meant, and how badly things may have gone down since that horrible day in August. Was I starting to form a rift in between my friends? Did some of them actually think that I was responsible for the burnt buildings and the injured ponies in Ponyville?

        The more and more I looked at this situation, the further and further it seemed to fly from my grasp. I felt like I needed to take control of things... to take control of myself. And so, rather suddenly, I asked Rarity...


        "How about I take the stand?"

        "Hmmm?" Rarity awoke from deep thought, turning to give him a double-take.

        "Y'know..." Spike gulped and hopped down from his cot to stand before her in the detention cell. "Let me be a witness! Let me speak for myself—"

        "No! Perish the thought!" Rarity exclaimed, suddenly frowning. "There is far too much at stake—"

        "For me to have a say in all of this?!" He frowned back. "Rarity, I know you're trying your darndest to help me."

        "I most certainly am—!"

        "Then help me!" He exclaimed, gesturing with his purple-scaled arms. "Already, it sounds like the other side is tossing a whole bunch of weight on the scales! Let's balance it all out, huh? Let's get me to talk to the lawyers, the jury, the court, the whole shebang!"

        "It's far too risky, Spike."

        "What, you don't believe I'm innocent?"

        She sighed. "Now, I did not say that..."

        "Then what's the problem?!" He barked, his voice echoing across the tiny chamber. "I know I did nothing that day! You know I did nothing that day! Let me speak for myself! Let me have a heart-to-heart with everypony! Surely, they will be able to tell that I'm not as evil as others are trying to paint me to be!"

        "It... it is far from that simple, Spike," Rarity said in a dull tone. She adjusted her briefcase and ran a hoof through her mane, straightening a few strands that had fallen loose from her purple bun. "I know that you are innocent. I believe it with my whole heart. I wouldn't take on a case if I didn't believe the truth behind it. Not only would it be unlawful of somepony in my position, but I simply wouldn't feel right with myself if I was attempting to deceive the court. But..."

        Spike narrowed his green eyeslits. "But what...?"

        "Spike, it is entirely possible to be completely innocent, to be completely in the right, to be an absolute angel, and still have your image sullied by a grilling cross-examination."

        "Pfft—As if!" Spike smirked, his sharp teeth glistening in the pale light of the cell. "I've been bullied by the worst Equestria has to offer before! I've got thick scales! I can take a little punishment—"

        "Spike..." Rarity softly trotted over. "Blind Justice is the best at what he does. He knows how to take suspects apart—thread by thread—before the court, like an old scarf that's moth-eaten." She rested a hoof on his shoulder. "I'm not saying that he will be right, but he will be merciless. And while you think you may be strong now, you've really only been sitting in this solitary cell for days on end, alone with your personal resolve. When you're sitting before the court, and you have all the ponies staring at you, with gazes full of suspicion and remorse, I doubt very much that you will retain the same strength that you are now showing so ardently."

        "But I will, Rarity..." Spike gazed up at her with sparkling eyes. He squeezed her hoof in two small hands. "I promise! I won't do anything to hurt your case..." He gulped. "Our case..."

        She chuckled lightly, nevertheless gazing at him with a loving expression. "Oh, Spike. It's not the case that I'm worried about. This whole thing is about painting a good image. I deeply fear that such would be put at risk if you decided to take the witness stand, no matter how courageous or noble the intention."

        "But I have a good image!" Spike said. After a few seconds, he fidgeted, then muttered, "Don't I?"

        Rarity bit her lip.

        "Rarity...?"

        "You have been... inside for quite a long time, Spike. The town... with all of its rebuilding... with all of its recovering injuries..." She sighed towards the corners of the place. "It most certainly has not been very pretty."

        His scaled brow furrowed. "What are you trying to tell me?"

        "Chiefly this: If you wish to take the stand, I cannot and will not stop you. It is your right, after all. However, I would strongly advise against it. The prosecution will be taking every opportunity they can to rip you to shreds, even more so if you allow them."

        "Rarity..." Spike stood back and folded his hands together in a noticeably demure fashion. "Let's be real for a second here. I'm already torn apart as it is."

        "Spike, Legal Eagle and I have a strong case and we have many ways to tear down Blind Justice's—"

        "But what do we have to stand on? I mean really?"

        Rarity had no response to that. She broke eye contact with Spike.

        He leaned forward and said, "I'm glad that you're defending me, but I have to defend myself too."

        "I... I shall discuss the matter with Legal Eagle," Rarity said in a breathy tone. "Maybe... Perhaps we can work it into our case. Maybe after all of the other witnesses we call forth, we can have you take the stand in order to thread everything together."

        "So, like..." Spike fidgeted. "How soon does it all start?"

        "I told you two meetings ago, Spike, after the jury selection process we went through, remember?" Rarity spoke quietly. "The trial's initial deliberations shall proceed a week and a half from this point."

        "Huh... That's rather... quick, isn't it?"

        "Yes, Spike." She nodded again, shaking off a cold chill. "Yes, it most certainly is."































        At last, the big day came. Little did I know that there would be many more "big days" to come. Still, at the time, I looked forward to the first trial proceedings as if it was my birthday. You'd think that I would be full of fear and stuff, which makes a lot more sense. Truth is, Your Highness, I was so darn bored of being in the same detention room for so long, that just getting things started felt like a breath of fresh air. I had been in the courtroom a few times before that: once for my plea of "not guilty," the other two times for jury selection, but somehow I knew that none of that would compare to what was about to happen.

        As they handcuffed me and led me out of the cell and up through the basement, I felt the walls shaking, as if there was a stampede taking place overhead. The windows rattled as I passed them towards the courtroom; that's how I knew that there was a gigantic crowd just waiting for me, hungering. My head was too foggy to think straight, and I recall actually wondering whether the mob was cheering for me or begging for my head on a platter. At some point, Rarity gave me a reassuring smile. I had almost forgotted that she was with me. I felt selfish... and a little bit stupid. I heard Legal Eagle's voice, and for some reason that shook me out of my trance.

        This was really happening. My entire future was about to be decided, and all I could do was sit back and watch the fireworks... or lack of them.

        I nearly ran into something. As I felt the firm hooves of looming guards gripping my shoulders, I looked up to see what it was... or who it was. A stone-faced mare with a rosy coat stared down at me. In the dim shadow of the marble hallway, I could have sworn her green eyes were carving a hole through me, as if they were certain there was something guilty and hidden underneath. For the two or three seconds during which I cowered under her gaze, I almost believed her. My twitching eyes fell to her uniform, and I saw the name "Lt. Knightseed" engraved on a namebadge....


        "Keep an eye on the courtroom's perimeter," Knightstead said, her voice hard as steel. As she undid the cuffs on Spike's wrists, she barely had to look at what she was doing. Instead, she spoke aside to another pair of officers inside the hallway. "I don't want local malcontents making any unnecessary drama."

        "Sure thing, Lieutenant," one of the guards replied with a nod before trotting down the corridor.

        Knighsteed marched over to the door, standing there like a towering rook. "I want us to stay in communication with the team outside. This is not a zoo, everypony."

        Legal Eagle leaned in and murmured towards Rarity. "Seems like the bailiff is doing double-duty..."

        "Yes. So it would seem."

        "That's the bailiff?" Spike whispered, eyeing the equine's emotionless face.

        "Eyes forward, Spike," Rarity instead said. "Remember what I said about proper posture and facing the front of the court."

        "But I was just—"

        "This is for your own good, Spike," Rarity spoke quietly, leaning over to speak into his ear. "If you absolutely must make eye contact with the ponies in the stand, I want you to be calm about it. Breathe evenly, and try not to look happy nor sad, even if you feel like expressing either."

        "But Rarity—" Spike stammered as he and his two representatives were urged forward. "You say that as if we're in enemy territory!"

        "Just trust me, Spike," Rarity said, and then she was silent.

        Spike watched as Knightseed opened the door for them. She held it wide open, eyeing either side of the frame cautiously as the three marched through.

        Just like that, Spike felt as if he had walked onto a different planet altogether. The air felt different; everything was stifling, stiff, and stale. Rows upon rows of glazed eyes reflected his purple sliver of a figure. What's more, it was dead silent, and it wasn't always dead silent. He could hear the echo of his shuffling claws through the vacuum left by everypony's colletive inhale. For a brief moment, he tilted his head to the right, and immediately wished he hadn't. In a single blink, he saw a sea of scowling faces, darker than the smoke clouds that had gathered over Ponyville just weeks before.

        When Legal Eagle pulled a chair out for him, he was almost too numb to sit straight. He scaled the seat a little too clumsily for his own good. When he rested his scaled wrists upon the edge of the defense's table, there was a rattling sound, and he discovered just how much he was trembling. Suddenly, Rarity's words rang truer than he had ever imagined they would. He took several deep breaths, but nothing calmed him—at least not until those breaths were soothed by the faint scent of the prim and proper fashionista sitting beside his chair. Instantly, he felt more at ease, though that was not saying much. He noticed his spines drooping, and he raised a hand up several times to straighten them, so much so that Rarity had to urge him to stop with a gently chiding hoof.

        Spike's eyes wandered across the courtroom. Somewhere between him and the judge's bench there sat a unicorn before a miniature typewriter. He saw the bailiff, Knightsteed, conversing with a guard or two. Next, he spotted the jury—twelve muzzles and pairs of eyes that he could only half-recognize—all seated upon a tightly nestled bench to his far right. Then, as if looming into view, his eyes caught sight of a thin figure with gray streaks in his brown mane. The aged stallion sat hunched over, his expressionless gaze stuck nose-deep in a briefcase full of documents. Two other ponies flanked him like a squadron of straight-suited wonderbolts about to take off, and they murmured quietly over several stacks of evidence.

        "Best not to stare too long at them, Spike, dear," Rarity's voice said.

        With a gulp, the infant dragon muttered, "That's him, isn't it? Blind Justice?"

        "Indeed. It's no surprise to me that you wouldn't recognize him. Most innocent citizens wouldn't bother to know his face."

        "Do you... do you think he enjoys sending ponies to prison?" Spike murmured. "And banishing those without hooves?"

        "Now, now, I know that this all must be very disconcerting, Spike, but you must try to follow my advice. Especially now of all times. Maintain an air of detachment. Keep up a good presentation; it will be for your own good."

        "Yeah, I-I guess so..." Spike said with a nod. Against his better judgment, he turned... turned... and glanced briefly over his shoulder. He caught the slightest hint of brightly-colored shapes at the very rear of the courtroom: orange, pink, blue... lavender—

        Just then, Knightseed's voice boomed like a well-aimed cannon across the polished wooden walls of the place. "All rise for the honorable Judge Winters."

        Hooves shuffled. Chairs creaked and rattled. The very air about the place shifted. As Spike saw the jury lifting in the corner of his peripheral vision, he felt a heavy tap on his shoulder. He realized that Eagle and Rarity were standing ahead of him. With a jolt to his heart, he rushed to do the same, only to find with much frustration that his eye-level was lower standing than it was when he was allowed to sit in the chair. Nevertheless, he positioned himself on the tips of his claws to see the gray shape of the darkly-robed judge shuffling through the open door, past the stone-faced bailiff, and into the highly-raised bench that loomed before the court.

        "Court is now in session. You may be seated."

        It felt like a century before the judge found it in her best interest to sit down. Once more, the court shuffled like a rattling table full of chess pieces. Spike lagged behind as usual. His scales burned, as if the temperature of everypony's gaze was quadrupling with each second he took to get situated. He had barely noticed that Legal Eagle and a pony from the prosecution's table had wandered up to speak with Judge Winters in hushed confidence.

        "What... wh-what are they doing?" Spike remarked.

        "Assuring that the first leg of the trial goes smoothely, Spike," Rarity said whilst telekinetically shuffling a stack of documents. "As there is no evidence being examined or statements being reevaluated, nothing is yet on the record."

        "But—like—I don't get it..." Spike pointed. "Isn't that pony on Blind Justice's side?"

        "Spike, we are all on the law's side in here," Rarity said with a gentle smile. Her lips fell straight as she added, "At least, in theory. This is not some brutish stone-throwing competition, after all. This is a court of law, and it's best for both sides that the process go smoothely and without unnecessary disorganization."

        "But... I-I thought all the organization had—like—been done already."

        "Oh, Spike..." Rarity managed a brief sigh. "There is never any end to the organization." She took a breath and tilted her chin up. "The key is work magic in between the lines that are drawn out for us."

        "How do you intend to do that?"

        "When the time comes, we will seize the situation." Rarity gave him a soft, consoling grin. "Of this, you can be certain."


        I wish I could say I believed in her whole-heartedly. It's not that I questioned Rarity's ability as a lawyer, of course. Even if she stood the risk of being rusty, she certainly wasn't alone. I had come to respect Legal Eagle too for his skill and knowledge and stuff.

        It's just that I was really afraid that no amount of hard work or convincing could change the public's perspective of me, much less just twelve jurors'. No amount of statements, documentation, or boringly necessary ritual could change the fact that I wasn't a pony—I was a dragon. What's more, this sort of a thing had never happened before in Ponyville... or in all of Equestria for that matter.

        A draconian citizen? Being given a trial? Scratch that, I was a draconian sub-citizen or some crap. I don't know how to put it anymore. All of the legal work and definition stuff was up to Rarity and Legal Eagle, and as glad as I was to leave all the complicated things to them, I couldn't help but feel like I needed to sink my claws into the matter myself. Maybe it's some secret dragon instinct that I only partially know about. Who knows? Perhaps you can explain it, Your Highness, but as soon as I started feeling helpless... I kind of started feeling angry too...

        I did my best to stay quiet about it—both in voice and in body. That is to say, I sat as still as a statue, which was kind of hard. Every other second, I could have sworn that the judge was speaking to me alone, when—as a matter of fact—she was speaking to the entire court.

        I thought that I would have been really, really intimidated by her, but that wasn't really the case. I could tell pretty early on that Judge Winters was a good pony—a good pony who was more concerned with the law than with a dragon who may or may not have been a crazy village-burning bad guy. When she talked about the evidence being presented and the rights that I was being granted, I felt wonderfully respected—even complimented, in some strange way. It was a far better experience than being carted around the basement of the court house like I was some sort of dog foaming at the mouth, with guards glaring at me from every angle, like I might leap for their jugulars without warning.

        Yes, to tell the truth, I was almost starting to relax. But then it was time for the prosecutors to give what Rarity calls an "opening statement," and that's when I saw Blind Justice standing up for the first time...


        "Ladies and gentlecolts of the jury," Blind Justice spoke, possessing a voice far firmer than Spike would have imagined from somepony as frail as him. The stallion walked with a slight limp, but slowed his hooves just enough to mask it. He approached the dozen seated citizens with a perfectly calm demeanor. A veteran face hung between twin skunk spots bordering the edges of the stallion's mane as he talked. "There are two reasons for why you have been brought here. For one, you have been called by Equestrian law to assist in the due process of the law."

        He paced slowly as he spoke, going through motions as old as the wrinkles that lined his furrowed brow.

        "For another, you have been called here because the accused has been given the rights of royal citizenry, a quality defined not by his blood nor by the making of his flesh and bone. Rather, he was hatched on royal property, and for this reason alone there exists a clause—an obsure yet masterfully discovered clause—that entitles him to the same legal representation as any common Equestrian citizen of hoofed stature.

        "Would the same situation grant rights to a pony caught suspected of a crime in dragon country? That is not for us to determine, nor to speculate. Let us be glad that, even in times of great tragedy and malice, the will of the court is to seek justice in its most righteous form, free from obfuscation on behalf of the xenophobic biases that is most commonplace in the wild landscapes outside of Her Royal Highness' jurisdiction.

        "Nevertheless, the fact that the accused is a dragon cannot be ignored. On the day of August the twelfth, between the hours of two and three o'clock in the afternoon, Central Royal Time, multiple eyewitnesses testify having seen the accused setting fire to the homes, businesses, and meeting places of Ponyville. No less than thirty-three ponies state that they saw "a dragon"—not a pony, mind you—but an actual, living, breathing dragon committing these atrocities.

        "It shall be our duty to bring forth the witnesses so that they may restate their testimonies before the court. From their experiences, we shall illustrate how the ponies not only saw a dragon, but how the details of their observations match the physical descriptions and mannerisms of the suspect you see now seated before you.

        "Our case is not based on testimony alone. Over the course of the last several weeks, we have taken samples of the burn marks found at the scene of the crime. With the aide of several well-educated zoological experts from the far corners of Equestria, we shall explain to the court how the fires could only have been caused by the unmistakable green breath given off by a purple dragon. Furthemore, we have carefully preserved outlines, pictures, and casts of the claw marks that were left all over the assaulted village, which—as explained by experts in the detective field whom we shall also call to the stand—match the dimensions and the indentations of the suspect to a T. Last but not least, we have a piece of photographic evidence that shows the accused clearly performing the violent act for which he has been charged."

        Shuffling to a stop, Blind Justice took a deep breath, as if having to weather the heavy load to the next part of his statement. Turning partially towards the jury, he made sure that his voice was easily carried to those in the viewing audience all the same.

        "Ladies and gentlecolts, as you well know, there is a great deal of emotion already invested in a case of this magnitude. But when it comes down to it, this is not some grand philosophical battle between those who would support the rights of so-called 'beastly creatures' and those who would desire nothing more than to have them ostracized. The prosecution understands that the suspect has had a long record of good-standing with the citizens of Ponyville, recent events excluded. However, let the prosecution remind you that the suspect is also an infant by draconian standards, and the nature of his development—both biological and psychological—is subjected to great mystery and presumption.

        "Now, the suspect's representatives will make their case soley based on this: the hypothetical. What are the true inner workings of a dragon's psyche? What are the biological possibilities and limitations of a whelp's burning breath? How can a governing body of ponies make conclusions about the actions of a single purple dragon when there is so little known about that particular species' properties, especially those properties that are potentially magical and subject to empirical uncertainty?

        "The truth is, there is very little known about purple dragons, and there is very little to be known. The defense will unquestionably drive this factor and this factor alone into the heart of this court. They will attempt to stretch all evidence so thin that even the most concrete facts will appear dubious and questionable.

        "What they cannot disprove, however, is that the suspect—beastly purple dragon or not—matched that which was witnessed by over thirty ponies, that the suspect matched every eyewitness description in both dimension and color, that the chemical, structural, and photographic analysis of the evidence left all over Ponyville only points to the suspect with equal precision. Regardless of what the suspect may be capable of, and despite his prior standing with the local citizenry, it is the task of the prosecution to prove that he was—in fact—the one who caused the atrocities on that dark day in August."

        Turning with finality towards the seated twelve, Blind Justice furrowed his brow and spoke more firmly.

        "As a court in service of Her Majesty's Kingdom, it is the system's function to not only pursue justice, but to maintain harmony in all its forms. In no Equestrian town is the importance of 'harmony' valued than in Ponyville. In pursuing righteous truth, we are not seeking to condemn creatures for their essential nature. Rather, we seek harmony and peace in a society built by ponies, run by ponies, and governed by ponies. As the honorable Judge Winters has already stated to you, the jury, it falls within your hooves to assure that harmony is maintained at all costs. I ask you: what is the cost of a single dragon being required to live elsewhere? If his qualities are proven to be so 'beastly,' will he truly be robbed by being forced to dwell among his own scaled kind? Would not he—amidst the rest of the draconian populace beyond Princess Celestia's reach—be achieving a newfound equilibrium, a state of... harmony entitled to dragons alone as they pass from whelp years into full-winged adulthood?"

        Shuffling back towards the prosecution's bench, the aged lawyer gave his last few words.

        "Through the testimonies and evidence that the prosecution shall provide, we ultimately seek to achieve harmony for all. August the tweltfh has come and gone; the time for misery and pain has passed. This is a court of law, and we desire—as much as the defense desires—to achieve equilibrium. We simply wish to prove that such is not possible if the defendant, as pointed out by the evidence provided, is allowed to dwell among ponykind any further."


        Blind Justice was finished far sooner than I thought he would be. I almost wished that he could have spoken longer. A part of me hoped that he was capable of being long-winded, the sort of stallion that loved to hear himself talk and thus would say all the wrong things. I couldn't have been more let down. He was short, he was brief, and he had no time to waste. I was to be banished from Equestria, and it was his job to convince everypony that this was the truth.

        Not only did I feel like he was gunning for me; I might as well have been falling back already from a silver bullet to the heart. Still, as devasted as I already felt, I saw no noticeable change in the faces of Rarity and Legal Eagle. They both acted as if this was nothing. Just how prepared were they? Could I somehow get some of that mojo?

        Whatever the case, it was Eagle—and not Rarity like I had imagined—who stood up to give our case's opening statement. I was a bit weirded out by that at first, but as soon as he started to speak, I lost all doubt. To be honest, Your Majesty, I really should have given Legal Eagle more credit. He certainly was giving me a lot of credit just by standing there and representing me in the first place...



        "What makes someone a royal citizen?" Legal Eagle asked, shrugging dramatically as he did so. His voice was far more dramatic and resonating than Blind Justice's, and he paced about with greater vigor, injecting charisma into the jury and the rest of the court with each word that came from his lips. "Is it being foaled on Equestrian soil? Most certainly, that dictates the rights and privileges of a natural-born creature. Is it one's sentience? Diamond dogs and minotaurs dwell within the Princess' Royal Kingdom, but their predominantly deviant behavior rejects the laws that this land upholds. Is it one's fealty to the Royal Sisters, then? History has proven that individuals like Chrysalis and Sombra—who once may have bowed before Celestia—ultimately spat in the face of civilized order."

        Eagle scuffled to a stop. He adjusted his bifocals and narrowed his gaze on the jury in particular.

        "Is it one's species?" He bore a subtle smile. "Aye, there's the rub. The suspect, Spike, has been brought to this court like any average pony citizen in the history of Equestrian law... only he hasn't, has he?" With firm, icy hoofsteps, Eagle trotted towards the jury's bench. "He was bound like an animal... thrown into a jail cell without immediate representation... almost banished forthwith into the wilderness like some rabid dog without a voice. Only through a discreetly ignored clause in the archives of the law offices of Ponyville was he finally allowed to be treated with any ounce of respect. But just what consolation is that? And what's to say that the damage hasn't already been done to his reputation in the eyes of the public, much less in the eyes of the court, before this trial had even started?"

        He resumed pacing, his face framed by a righteous scowl as he spoke.

        "Neither the defense nor the prosecution wishes to turn this into a battle of species' rights. We lack the philosophical fortitude to attack the issue, for we would inevitably drag all creatures of draconian nature into this argument, and our place is not to decide the fate of the scaled residents of Equestria forevermore. Our task here and now is to determine the verdict of one dragon... one soul... one 'Spike'...

        "Now, the law may qualify Spike as a 'beastly creature,' and as heinous as this sounds, it is a good thing. After all, it has saved him from a clambering mob—a mob comprised of otherwise civil ponies, mind you, who have shown qualities that are no less 'beastly' through the manner in which they would like to accost and maltreat the suspect, exacting some sort of blind revenge without sufficient proof or logical provocation. It's a nebulous term: 'beastly.' How intriguing that a justice system so dependent on order would find itself fit to determine and control that which is supposedly savage. Perhaps the land of the dragons has a relative 'harmony' of its own. Who is to know? Certainly not the law, certainly not the suspect, and most certainly not me or you...

        "I would like you to consider this for a moment: eliminate the 'beastly creature' stigma from your mind. Whether or not that is the clause that has allowed Spike the rights he is entitled to today, he is still ultimately qualified as a citizen. Thus, it is best to think of him not as any creature, not as any beast, not as any savage—but rather as any citizen, as any law-abider, as any... pony...

        "Which, then, brings us back to the question that I first proposed to the court. What makes someone a 'royal citizen?' As citizens—pony or not—we seek peace and harmony above all else. We pursue truth and mutual prosperity. We help our neighbors and fellow citizens in need. We report to the authorities when we see the law being broken, and we abide by the system at all times, even in moments of chaos and emergency."

        At last, Legal Eagle turned and pointed firmly at Spike.

        "This individual who sits before you, Spike of Ponyville, born in the Royal District of Canterlot, has lived his entire life performing all of these civil virtues and then some. He has helped his fellow citizens. He has protected ponies when they needed assistance. He has reported directly to the Princess in times of great distress. In addition to this—and I do not exaggerrate when I make this claim—he has helped his fellow companions save Equestria multiple times over. That is correct. This dragon—this 'beastly creature' is an integral piece of the Elements of Harmony, for he has been their inseparable ally throughout the passing months and years, during which Equestria has seen its darkest hours since the Civil War a thousand years ago.

        "Why, then, has he been brought here? Why did Ponyville's finest have to cuff him on the way to his seat in open court? Why is there the same mob outside the courtroom as that which nearly accosted him on the day of August the twelfth? For one simple reason: he was in the wrong place and at the wrong time. Why was it the wrong place and the wrong time? It is nothing of Spike's doing. What happened to Ponyville that day was awful, horrific, and undeniably tragic. So terrible were these events that it took that which was best in all of his fellow neighbors—the same ponies he had defended and loved all of his life—and it filled them instead with confusion, anger, and distrust. For the briefest of moments, they all collectively lost their ability to see Spike for what he was... a citizen.

        "And by 'citizen,' I believe I can finally answer my own question from earlier. A citizen is someone who knows and respects the law. A citizen is someone who works with fellow ponies to keep the order. A citizen is someone whom we all can trust. For years, Spike qualified as all of these. What changed? What makes him a criminal all of the sudden, in direct conflict with the personality and the record that he has embodied for all his young life?

        "Yes, a citizen can change. An individual can do something unpredictable, and a peace-keeper can turn into a deviant. But just because something is possible does not mean that it necessarily happened. Spike was in town on the day Ponyville burned. Like the law-abiding citizen he was, he ran out from an interrupted nap, carrying a pail in hopes that he might assist his fellow neighbors in dousing the flames. As a matter of fact, he had single-handedly stopped a fire from consuming the heart of Twilight Sparkle's home. And what is he awarded with in the end? Condemnation? Accusations? Hate and slander?

        "Now, the prosecution has quite an arsenal built for this trial. They have over thirty eyewitnesses to support their case, along with a hoof-full of samples taken from the ruined streets of Ponyville. However, the prosecution, for all of their intimidating weight and—let's face it—outstanding legal reputation, still do not have anything concrete to stand on.

        "Oh, they'll try convincing you that they do. They'll treat the thirty-plus eyewitness accounts as irrefutable fact, when they are still just as circumstantial as only two or three just-as-foggy accounts. They'll claim that the burnt samples taken from the village are signs that somehow only the suspect could leave, when they in fact know nothing about Spike's biological signature, much less that of any purple dragons whatsoever. They will bring so-called experts to testify about the evidence and its implication, when not a single one of these ponies has even met a dragon, or even dealt with the traces of one before. Long story short, the prosecution's case can only be measured in its sheer quantity of benign presentations, and even still, you'll be hard pressed to analyze any underlying quality to the presentations whatsoever.

        "It will be our task, as the suspect's one and only defense, to show you that it is inherently impossible to connect Spike with the calamitous events that took place on August the twelfth. The suspect has an allibi; he was sleeping during the hour-and-a-half when the fires started. What's more, the ponies who claim to have seen him can only attest to having seen something that made them think of the suspect. Whatever caused the actual damage and injuries of that dark day, we cannot affirmatively conclude, because the only evidence gathered has been chosen with the sole purpose of implicating an innocent. Just because the tragedy resembles the work of a dragon does not necessarily mean that a dragon is to blame... and it certainly does not mean that Spike is to blame.

        "What we have here is a situation where confusion and panic has bred suspicion. In times like this, it is so very easy to cling to that which is familiar and to villainize that which is different... that which is strange... and that which is easy to blame. And that is why Spike is here, because to blame the village's woes on something else, or—even more nebulous—something unexplained would not nearly be as simple... nor settling to the pained soul. Forcing a guilty verdict upon Spike, in spite of the fallacy of doing such, would be easy.

        "Ladies and gentlecolts, we do not seek justice for its ease of passing. We pursue the truth because it is difficult to do so... and because it is righteous. Many horrible things happened on August the twelfth, but the least righteous was the forming of a mob to lay the blame on Spike here. And now, weeks later, in open court, I greatly fear that that very same mob has yet to disperse.

        "Do not allow fear and xenophobia to cloud your judgment over the following few days. Do not allow the prosecution to simplify the testimonies and evidence into fact, for all they implicate is that there is still a great deal of uncertainty to the events of Ponyville's burning. Do the righteous thing. See past the boundaries of your own presumption... of everypony's presumption, and realize that Spike is still the same law-abiding citizen he always has been, and that all the defense is trying to do here is make sure that he gets to live out the rest of his days as he has earned them, free from the same pain and discomfort that has most recently hounded all of our lives."

        At last, Legal Eagle gave a half-bow and trotted back towards the desk. Spike heard a slight murmur rolling through the crowd behind him. Meanwhile, Judge Winters shuffled through her documents and adjusted her bifocals, preparing to read the introduction to the next round of procedure.

        He didn't realize it until he was leaning towards Rarity, but Spike heard himself whispering, "He's not really half-bad..."

        "Mmmm... No, he isn't," Rarity said with a restrained smile.

        "I'm curious, though," Spike whispered, his nerves somewhat eased for the time-being. "Why didn't you want to give the opening statement yourself?"

        The fashionista had to stifle a chuckle. "Are you being jocular, Spike?" She spoke quietly into his ear crests. "Surely we both know that my words would have summoned tears and applause. Most uncouth for a courtroom, wouldn't you agree?"

        Spike nodded, smiling for the first time in days.

        
        





















        Oh, if only a case could be won by a persuasive statement alone, Your Highness. I really liked Legal Eagle's introduction to my defense. I really liked it a lot. But, I still knew that the cards were stacked up against me, and we had yet to play a single hand... or... erm... hoof.

        After the opening statements, I recall looking over to Blind Justice's side of the court. Everypony at his table was deadpan. Not a single one of them looked impressed or dismayed or happy or sad or anything. That's when I knew exactly who we were dealing with. They didn't care about me. They didn't give a flying feather about my future at all. This case was just a job to them, and they had all of the stuff that would banish me from Equestria prepared like a bunch of bullet points.

        I knew that the next part was going to be tough to sit through. I just didn't know how tough it was going to be. Sitting for hours on end in my detention cell, I had imagined what all of the angry ponies of Ponyville had thought of me. I don't think I was ever truly prepared to listen to each of them say unpleasant things, much less thirty or so of them, starting with...


        "Your honor, if it would please the court," Blind Justice said as he stood and leaned against the edge of his desk. "We would like to call the pony Minuette to the witness stand."

        Spike bit his scaled lip. As he heard a stirring noise, he turned and looked over his shoulder. From the audience, a blue figure shuffled out from her seat and trotted slowly down the aisle. From his perspective, the unicorn looked neither happy nor sad to be there. She shifted with a nervousness that matched his own, brought upon by the many-many sets of eyes blanketing her figure.

        With a shuffle of muscular hooves, the bailiff opened the gate towards the front of the court, allowing the mare to pass on through. Knightsteed then guided Minuette towards a platform to Judge Winters' left, where she was ushered to sit. Without delay, Knightsteed raised her right hoof, and after a brief fumbling, Minuette did the same.

        "Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, in order to aid the pursuit of Equestrian peace and harmony?"

        "I-I do," Minuette stammered.

        "Please be seated," Judge Winters said from above.

        Minuette did so, squirming pensively. Knightsteed shuffled towards the side of the court, within leaping distance of both the judge's platform and the witness'. As the bailiff trotted by, the officer's passing glare swept over Spike.

        The whelp winced, scratching one arm with the other hand. He didn't notice Blind Justice marching up until he heard Winters voice again: "You may question the witness, Mr Justice."

        "Ms. Minuette, where were you at 2:06pm on August the twelfth, Central Royal time?"

        "I... uhm..." Minuette fidgeted. "I was on the balcony of my apartment, preparing a research paper on quantum entanglement. I'm... uh... I-I'm a theoretical physicist at the Trottingham University for Science and Mathematics, and I commute between there and Ponyville because the local real estate is so—"

        "There is no need for you to give us your life story, Ms. Minuette. I merely asked about your whereabouts on that particular day."

        "I'm sorry..." She bit her lip as her ears drooped. "Please forgive me. I've n-never been in a court before—"

        "Nothing to be sorry for, madame," Blind Justice said calmly as he shuffled up to the edge of her stand. He hid his limp by pivoting ever so slightly with each step. "Take your time in answering if you need to. You are not the one on trial."

        "Er..." She smiled nervously, her ears flicking back up, relaxing slightly. "Right..."

        "You say that you were situated on the balcony of your apartment, Ms. Minuette?"

        "Yes, sir."

        "Where is your apartment located?"

        "Oh... uh... in Ponyville. Eheh... of course it's in Ponyville—"

        "And the address?"

        "Hmmm? Oh! Uhm... 42 Jasper Lane... erm... right on the corner of Jasper and Windbrook."

        "That is located on the edge of the downtown square, is it not?"

        "No, sir."

        "No?"

        "Well, not exactly. It's about a block and a half away," Minuette said. "But... it's still pretty close. Just two minutes' trotting distance."

        "So, the downtown square is out of view?"

        "Oh no, sir. My home is located on the second floor of the apartment. The balcony actually has a pretty nice view... eheh..."

        "In which cardinal direction does your balcony face?"

        "Oh... uhm... jee, I'm not really a cartographer. But... well... the sun sets to my right whenever I'm out there, working on mathematical equations. It's a safe bet that the balcony sort of faces south... maybe... uh... southwest?"

        As Minuette spoke, Spike could hear a constant tapping. He glanced to his left to see a unicorn squatting before a tiny typewriter. The pony squinted at the exchange while his horn glittered, causing the little keys of the recording equipment to rattle in swift order.

        Blinking, Spike glanced at Rarity and Legal Eagle. They were nearly just as silent and deadpan as the prosecution's bench. Shifting in his seat, Spike returned to the trial at hoof.

        "And you were situated on this very same balcony at about two o'clock on August twelfth?" Blind Justice asked.

        "Yes, sir."

        "Doing your research, I suspect..."

        "Yes sir, attempting to jot down the complex theorems describing the fabrics of multiple dimensions and their contact points and—Oh... whoops... eheheh... sorry..."

        "It's quite alright, madame." Blind Justice shuffled about to face her. "I take it you're quite intensely focused on your research."

        "Oh. Uhm... very much so, sir. Almost a little too focused."

        "Explain, if you would."

        "Really?"

        "Yes, madame," Blind Justice said with a nod. "Really."

        Minuette blinked, then blushed slightly as she said, "Well... I... sort of live with my older brother because I can't really afford to live on my own. I mean, I excel at my university, and I have a fantastic teaching career. But... I-I tend to get easily absorbed into... uhm... the theorems that I'm working on, so much so that it's k-kind of hard to pull me out of—like—a thought trance when my mind starts going. So, my older brother tends to keep me walking in line. If it weren't for him, I'd starve, cuz I always take forever when I go to buy groceries. Heh..."

        Blind Justice nodded slightly. "When you get into these... moments of deep thought, what does it take to snap you out of it?"

        "Well, like I said... uh... sir..." She cleared her throat. "It's really hard to distract me when I really get into my work."

        "Still, what would it take to break your concentration, would you say?"

        Minuette fidgeted. "Well, a lot, to say the least. Sometimes I don't realize that I've zoned out until I hear my brother yelling at me." She winced slightly. "He'll claim that he had been calling my name for a full minute before I noticed him."

        "I see..." Blind Justice paced ever so slowly. "Ms. Minuette, when you were performing your studies on the afternoon of August the twelfth, were you in such a state of intense concentration?"

        "I..." She glanced down at the edge of her stand and squirmed. "It's... it's hard to say. When those moments of deep thought happen, it's hard to look back and figure out when they started..."

        "Do you normally go into such deep concentration while studying?"

        "Oh, absolutely."

        "And you don't remember when or if such a... shall we say—trance started on that afternoon?"

        "I'm afraid not, sir."

        Blind Justice stopped. He pivoted to look at her. "Do you remember when it may have ended?"

        Minuette bit her lip. She swallowed and dryly said, "Y-yes, sir."

        "You could no longer concentrate on your work?"

        "No, sir."

        "Did someone in the apartment snap you out of it?"

        "No, sir."

        "Did you simply lose focus on your own?"

        "No... sir..."

        "What was it that distracted you?"

        Minuette shuddered. "An explosion, sir."

        "An explosion?"

        "Yes."

        "Would you care to describe it?"

        Minuette blinked. "It... well... it was a large blast. I..." She winced slightly. "I remember my ears hurting. It startled me pretty bad. At the very first second, I thought something had exploded in my very own apartment, but then I realized it was just an echo of the noise off the walls of the balcony."

        "The very first second?" Blind Justice asked. "You're certain you can remember something that happened so suddenly?"

        "Yes, sir."

        "You are certain?"

        Minuette nodded. "I am."

        "How can you be?"

        She stifled a nervous smile. "Well... I-I've been told that I have something akin to... uh... a mimetic memory..."

        "Do explain."

        "I can remember things really, really specifically, almost photographically... though... well... not quite..."

        "Not quite?"

        "Well, obviously, I zone out a lot when I get into research mode, so I can't actually remember every single detail."

        "Do you think you were mistaken about the sound of the explosion?"

        "Well... no, sir."

        "Why is that?"

        "I was no longer... uh... 'zoning out.' The explosion was just too impossible to ignore."

        "So, you were starting to take notice of things normally, then?"

        "Yes."

        "Why was the explosion 'too impossible to ignore,' Ms. Minuette?"

        Minuette gritted her teeth, fidgeting. "Because... a p-piece of burning rubble fell onto the balcony no less than five seconds later."

        Blind Justice shuffled slowly towards her. "Rubble, you say?"

        "Yes. It was... smoldering... it looked like a support beam for a building's roof or maybe a corner of some wooden shack's foundation. I don't know. I'm no architect."

        "But you remember the debris?"

        "Yes."

        "Clearly?"

        "Yes, sir."

        "Describe it, if you will, to the extent of your memory."

        Minuette's face scrunched up as she rubbed her head and thought aloud, "The piece of debris was... probably two-thirds of a meter by a-quarter meter. The ends were shattered, brown, and splintery. Half of the chunk that lay before me was burning."

        "Can you describe the fire?"

        "Yes. It was... well... warm, but starting to simmer down into a smolder. It had a sulfuric smell to it. And, most striking of all, it was green."

        "Green?"

        "Yes, sir. Green flame."

        "How did you react when you saw this, Ms. Minuette?"

        "Well, I was startled, sir. Though it takes a lot to pull me out of my concentration, I'm usually easily frightened when it happens, much less by falling pieces of burning wood. I-I remember my blood pumping hard through my limbs, and I felt as if a knot had formed in my stomach."

        "After the debris fell, what did you do?"

        "I... uh... I stood up, and... I-I stayed there, looking south across the edge of the balcony."

        "You stood there and looked south?"

        "Yes, sir."

        "May I ask why?"

        "Because... b-because I saw the source of the explosion," Minuette said. "Or at least, what I thought it was at the time. I couldn't guess what else it was."

        "What did you see?"

        "The bed and breakfast inn—half a block away—was gone."

        "Gone?"

        "Well, half of its foundation was missing. It's a two story building, Mr. Justice... that is, it was. All I could see was flame and smoke."

        "Could you describe it?"

        "What, the flame and smoke?"

        "Yes."

        "Green, sir. Green and... pungent. Why, I could smell the sulfur from where I stood."

        "I thought you said you smelled the sulfur from the debris that had fallen onto your balcony."

        "Well, yes. That's true, sir. But there was a wind blowing north. It carried the heat from the exploded building's fire... as well as the smell. It was a great deal stronger than the debris that had landed in front of me."

        "And what did you proceed to do after seeing this fire, Ms. Minuette?" Blind Justice asked. "Did you contact the authorities?"

        "Well, n-no, sir."

        "No?"

        "I... honestly, I-I was too stunned to do much of anything," Minuette stated.

        "Because of the explosion?"

        "No, sir. Because... well... because whatever had happened wasn't stopping."

        "How do you mean?"

        "I saw the exploded building, but I also saw something else... er... someone else..."

        "Who or what did you see?"

        Minuette gulped. "There was a figured. Uhm... small, bipedal, purple and green in color. And it was facing the building."

        "Was it doing anything to the building?"

        Minuette exhaled hard and shook her head. "I didn't see it do anything to the building, sir." She gulped. "But... I-I did see it doing something to the other buildings while I watched."

        "What did you see, Ms. Minuette?"

        "I saw the figure marching down the street, heading... t-towards the direction of my apartment. And it was lunging forward. Fire came from its neck and throat. It was... it was setting the buildings on fire, one by one, s-sir..."

        "Could you describe the flames?"

        "Uh... g-green, sir. Green, just like the debris and the exploded building."

        "And could you describe the figure you had seen again? You mentioned that it was heading closer to the vicinity of your apartment?"

        "Yes. The body of it was colored purple and it had green spots or ridges across its head, neck, and back."

        "And the figure's height?"

        "I'd say about a third of a meter. About half the height of myself... er... or most adult ponies."

        Blind Justice took a deep breath and shuffled in the direction of the jury. "Ms. Minuette, you said that you possessed something akin to a mimetic memory, is that correct?"

        "Yes, sir."

        "Are ponies with mimetic memories known for their forgetfulness?"

        "Not... usually, sir. Quite the opposite."

        "You are certain of your recollection of the colors, shape, and dimension of this fire-breathing figure?"

        "Most definitely, sir. It's especially hard to get the images out of my mind."

        "If you were to see the figure right now, would you be able to identify it?"

        Minuette blinked. Nervously gulping, she said, "Why, yes. Yes, I would."

        "Ms. Minuette, is the figure in this courtroom right now?"

        The air was silent. Minuette spoke in a low tone. "Yes, Mr. Justice. I see the figure in the court."

        "Would you please point to the figure that you see?"

        She bit her lip. Keeping her head down, she nevertheless pointed her hoof straight across the courtroom, and straight at the little dragon whelp situated next to Rarity and Legal Eagle.

        Spike clasped his hands together. He could feel his beating heart through his claws. His vision started to blur slightly.

        Blind Justice wasn't finished. "Ms. Minuette..." He shuffled slowly back to the witness stand. "When you realized that this fire-breathing figure that you saw was heading towards your apartment, did you feel in danger?"

        "Y-yes, sir. I was... ahem... I was quite afraid."

        "What did you do then?"


        "I tried c-calling out to him!" Time Turner exclaimed. He sat, wide-eyed, in the witness stand as Blind Justice stood before him. "I-I wasn't thinking rationally at the time, I suppose. I thought that I might be able to get him to st-stop if he realized that he was hurting ponies and destroying property!"

        "What did you call him?"

        "Well.. I... I-I didn't realize his name at the time," Time Turner muttered, fidgeting. "I mean, I was familiar with the dragon. Although vaguely. It's not common to see a creature like that in an Equestrian village, whelp or not."

        "Were you not familiar with the dragon's internship with Twilight Sparkle?" Blind Justice remarked.

        "Objection!" Rarity stood and said, "The prosecution is leading the witness."

        "Sustained," Judge Winters calmly stated.

        Without losing his stride, Blind Justice leaned against the prosecution table and continued addressing the stallion. "So, then, you approached the fire-breather?"

        "Y-yes, sir."

        "Were you afraid of this figure?"

        "Heh..." Time Turner smiled nervously. "Obviously not afraid enough. I got close enough that I tapped his shoulder."

        "That was certainly brave of you, Mr. Turner."

        "That or stupid."

        "And what happened after you touched his shoulder?"

        Time Turner shuddered. "He... uh... he spun around and struck me."

        "Struck you?"

        "Yes, sir. With his tail."

        "Where did he strike you?"

        "Along my left side, just above the left rear leg. I... uh... I'm just now starting to lose the bruise that it left."

        "Can you still see it?"

        "Faintly, sir."

        "Could you show the court?"

        "The... court, sir?"

        "Yes."

        Taking a deep breath, Time Turner stood up and pivoted against the front of the witness stand. He stretched his leg to show a diagonal discoloration that blemished through his brown coat, stretching from the ribcage to the top of his left limb besides a flicking tail. A hushed murmur rolled through the crowd in attendance.

        "That's enough, Mr. Turner," Blind Justice eventually said. "Much appreciated."

        The stallion sat back down, fighting a brief shiver.

        "When he struck you, did you fall back?"

        "More like I flew back, sir."

        "Please describe."

        "Well, it's pretty simple. I crashed through a news stand. I had my wits knocked out of me pretty bad. It wasn't until two helpful ponies—Amethyst Star and Ace—showed up and hoisted me out of the collapsed bits of the stand."

        "And where was the suspect at this point?"

        "Walking down the street, setting a hotel on fire."

        "You saw him?"

        "Yes, sir."

        "How did you feel, having been struck back and all?"

        "I was stinging all over. Amethyst Star and Ace were surprised I wasn't shattered in two. I gotta admit... that tail hurt really bad."

        "You could stand?"

        "Yes, though I pretty much had the courage knocked out of me."

        "How do you mean?"


        "I... I-I ran away..." Roseluck stammered, fighting to keep her gaze straight on Blind Justice from where she sat. Three ponies had to help her into the witness stand, and she sat at an awkward angle to compensate for a lower leg that was still in a cast. What's more, her mane had been cut noticeably short in order to compensate for several bangs that had been singed off at the halfway point. "I... I wish to say that I was courageous, but I wasn't. The dragon was coming straight for me and the other ponies at the picnic. I... j-just took off and ran. I wanted to know that my house was safe... that my neighbors weren't burnt to a crisp."

        "Were you alone at this picnic, Ms. Roseluck?" Blind Justice asked.

        She slowly shook her head. "No. There were other ponies gathered around. It was a beautiful afternoon... on th-that day in August. Mares and stallions were picnicking." She winced slightly. "Foals played about. And then... then..." Her teeth clenched as her body jolted a few times with fitful spasms.

        Blind Justice shuffled about in somber silence. Eventually, he asked her, "When did you first start running, Ms. Roseluck?"

        The mare hid her face in the crook of her forelimb and stifled a sobbing breath.

        "Take as much time as you need, madame."

        "No... I-I'm fine... I... uhm..." She tilted her head back up with glistening eyes. "I heard a commotion from downtown. It sounded like screams and the crashing of wood. That's when everypony around me in the park started standing up and looking towards town. Smoke was rising. For a moment there, I thought we were under attack."

        "And you ran away?"

        "Yes. Well, I ran home. Everypony was galloping home," Roseluck said. "We didn't realize how terrible that whole afternoon was going to be. So many of the villagers were worried about their loved ones. That's why so many of us headed towards the violence... at least at first."

        "And yet you insist you ran away...?"

        She nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. After I saw... him..."

        Spike nearly fell out of his chair from the steely glare thrown his way. He immediately lowered his gaze towards his clasped hands. At the touch of Rarity's hoof, however, he was urged to sit upright once again. He did his best not to look nervous... or guilty.

        "Where was it that you saw him, Ms. Roseluck?"

        "On the corner of Windbrook and... uhm... Tinderwood, I think."

        "That's close to downtown, isn't it?"

        "Yes. On the southeast edge. I sell flowers there a lot on weekdays."

        "And the suspect was situated in this part of town?"

        "I h-had just galloped in with the crowd from the park... well, most of them, at least. We immediately felt the heat from the dragon's fires. Pieces of the village were all landing around us. I... I-I lost any courage right then and there, Mr. Justice."

        "How do you mean?"

        "I-I ran straight for my home. Or at least I tried to."

        "Did you make it there?"

        "N-no, sir."

        "What stopped you?"

        "The dragon... h-he breathed fire at me and the other p-ponies..." Roseluck's lips quivered as she struggled to speak. "I felt my m-mane catching fire. I... I began to smell my own skin b-burning. And... and then it became dark."

        "Became dark?"

        "B-because part of the building to my left had fallen on me. The Silver Fleece Apartments. I was buried for minutes under rubble. I... I-I couldn't feel my leg; I swore it was cleaved off. Thank Celestia th-that I got to keep it. But when they dragged me out—"

        "Bed your pardon, madame, but who dragged you out?"

        "Two volunteer fireponies. They dug me out of the rubble. I was in so much pain that they had to put me on a stretcher. On the way to a makeshift hospital, I... I-I saw my home... and..." She started to pant heavily. "It was g-gone, Mr. Justice... it was b-burned to the ground! All I wanted was to see if other ponies were alright, and for that, h-he buried me in rubble and torched my home.. I... I-I don't understand..." Tears poured out of her eyes as she curled her forelimbs to her chest. "Nnngh... why? Why did h-he do it? What did we ever do to him to deserve this?"

        The crowd was dead silent as Blind Justice exchanged glances with the judge. Judge Winters nodded. The stallion shuffled up to the witness and breathed calmly.

        "Shhh... Take as long as you need to compose yourself, Ms. Roseluck. I understand you've been through a lot, but there are still a few questions that need to be asked..."

        "Yes... y-yes, I-I understand, sir..." She gulped and dried her face with a forelimb. Standing up straight, she gazed at him with a serious an expression that she could muster. "What else would you like to know?"



        "And when you finally reached Sugarcube Corner," Blind Justice asked, "Was it burned down already?"

        "Not yet, but it was about to be! All I knew was that I needed to fetch the mayor about all of this!" Ms. Cup Cake exclaimed, her face bright and earnest. "Ponies were being burned and assaulted left and right! And suddenly, Spike was right there! And he was about to attack my little Pumpkin!"

        "Objection," Rarity said, standing up at the table. "Witness is drawing conclusions."

        "I am not!" Cup Cake barked, glaring across the court at the defense table. "You think I don't know when my babies are in danger?!"

        "Order... Order!" Judge Winters growled, silencing the room immediately. Weathering a sigh, she said, "From this point forth, the court reminds the witness that she must answer the prosecution's questions directly. Please find it within yourself to resist the urge to embellish."

        "But I'm not embellishing, your honor!" Ms. Cake stammered. "He was standing there and he was about to pounce my Pumpkin! His clawmarks were all over town! I knew it was him all along—"

        "Ms. Cake, you will answer the questions and only the questions given you or you will be forcefully removed from the stand for being in contempt of court."

        Ms. Cake opened her mouth again, but lingered. Frowning, she folded her arms and glared away from the judge's seat.

        Winters looked over at Blind Justice once again. "You may proceed, Mr. Justice."

        He was leaning calmly against the edge of the prosecution's table. He took a great deal of time in shuffling back towards the witness' stand. By the time he reached Ms. Cake's side, she had managed to calm down, but just barely.

        "You were injured, yes?" Blind Justice inquired.

        "Yes," she grunted. "Just like I told you earlier, my rear leg was cut wide from a flying piece of debris because the dragon sent it flying in my direc—" She winced, sighed, and muttered, "My leg was cut from flying debris."

        He nodded, pivoting slightly on his limp as he said, "And when you reached Sugarcube Corner, it was on fire?"

        "Yes."

        "What color was the fire?"

        "Green. Green with black smoke."

        "And you saw your child there?"

        "Yes. Pumpkin was sitting in the front yard, crying her eyes out."

        "How did you two get separated?"

        "It's not like I wanted us to!" Ms. Cake exclaimed. "My husband was at home with her while I was out in the marketplace with Pound Cake!"

        "What happened to your husband?"

        "Carrot got hurt pretty bad, but not as bad as me or other ponies. He fell unconscious from a ceiling beam of Sugarcube's first floor falling next to him. A rescue team pulled him out, but they were a bunch of nincompoops—Everypony in town knows we've got foals! Why didn't they look through the Corner for my precious Pumpkin?! I almost lost her..."

        "Is that why you went back to Sugarcube Corner?" Blind Justice asked. "In spite of your injury?"

        "They brought Carrot to the triage center where I was trying to recover from my injury. When I saw that he was alone—without Pumpkin—I got hysterical. When none of the volunteer nurses were looking, I galloped across town. I almost ran into the dragon twice."

        "The suspect? Twice?"

        "Yes, once in the marketplace when he breathed fire at me, and another time when the little devil tried to make a building front collapse on me like he did to my beloved Carrot at Sugarcube Corner—"

        Rarity sat up. "Objection..."

        Blind Justice waved his hoof, sighed, and looked squarely at Ms. Cake. "You said that you first saw him at the marketplace thirty minutes previous when you were with Pound Cake?"

        "Er... yes, sir. Yes."

        "And you saw the suspect then?"

        "Yes, I saw a small purple dragon with green crests and spitting emerald fire." Ms. Cake shrugged her shoulders. "Why is this so hard to connect?"

        "This dragon came at you?"

        "He came at the whole marketplace. He was moving very slow, breathing fire on anything that moved, including us."

        "How close did he come to you?"

        "About three meters. Close enough for me to know who it was."

        "And when you galloped back to Sugarcube Corner, you saw him again along the way?"

        "Yes. Twice. Just like I said..."

        "And when you arrived at Sugarcube Corner?"

        "Yes. Again, yes. It was him! It had to have been him! Maybe..." She stammered briefly, hitting an emotional pitch to her voice. The anger drained away, replaced instead by a fitful shudder. "Maybe you can understand why I-I was so terrified for my sweet little Pumpkin. I already saw him attacking the town—and me—three different times. I felt for s-sure that it was going to happen again! That's why I grabbed my foal and tried scampering away. I... I-I was afraid for my life... for all of our lives..."

        "And when you saw him this fourth and last time... did he attack you?"

        She gulped and shook her head. "No. But, to be honest, I was too afraid to stick around and let him."

        "But he made no attempt to pursue you?"

        "No, sir," she murmured, much more calmly.

        "Did it cross you mind that something may have changed about him?"

        "What?" She looked up, then frowned. "No!"

        "But he didn't attack you this time..."

        "That didn't matter!"

        "Really?" Blind Justice leaned his head to the side. "Why not?"

        "Because it was the same dragon!"

        "And how do you know this?"

        "Are you serious?"

        "Please answer the question, Ms. Cake. That's all I ask."

        "Because he... h-he was the same dragon!" Ms. Cake frowned. "He had the same purple scales, the same green crests! The same green breaths! The same height! The same voice whenever he inhaled or exhaled!" She leaned forward against the stand and frowned. "I've known Spike for as long as he's lived here in Ponyville. I know what he looks and sounds like. I have the best nose in town, and I can tell he's walked into the room just from the faint scent of sulfur in the air! Look, I don't know why he did what he did or what got into him or what-have-you, but it was definitely him! I've never had a reason to hate the little guy. Heck, the fella once grew super large from a dragon ailment and did a lot of damage to Sugarcube Corner! But this was different! This time, he was attacking ponies! This time... he... h-he attacked my family! My beloved Carrot... my darling Pound and Pumpkin..." She slumped back with a sigh, running a hoof through her pink mane. "I just don't understand why it all happened. I only know that it was him... and... and I was so angry... th-that's why I contacted the Mayor." She sniffed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Justice. I apologize to you and the court. I just... I just don't understand any of it..."

        Silence reigned for a few seconds, during which Blind Justice lethargically swiveled from the witness and gazed halfway at the judge. "No further questions, your honor." He made his way slowly towards the prosecution's bench.

        After a few voices coughed and murmured, Judge Winters faced the defense table. "Would the defendant's representatives wish to ask any questions of the witness?"

        "Yes, your honor," Legal Eagle said. He made to stand up—only to have a white hoof hold him back. Curious, he glanced aside.

        Rarity stood up slowly. She exchanged glances calmly with Eagle, and the stallion sat down, giving her the opportunity to rise instead. Spike watched curiously as Rarity straightened her suit and walked gracefully towards the witness stand.

        Sniffling, Ms. Cake looked up, casting Rarity a look that was as icy as it was anxious.

        "Ms. Cake, if you wouldn't mind telling the court again about the first of the four occasions when you saw the suspect on August the twelfth."

        "Huh? Why?" The mare frowned. "Didn't they hear me the first time?"

        Judge Winters was already stirring to turn and speak. Rarity spoke ahead of her, "Ms. Cake, must I remind you that you are obligated to answer the questions asked of you in court."

        "Very well then," Ms. Cake muttered, shifting in her seat. "Like I said earlier, I was at the marketplace with Pound Cake. Ponies started running towards me, galloping in straight, screaming lines. At first, I thought it was another parasprite swarm. I turned to look, and I saw the dragon walking towards us. That's when I began running too."

        Rarity raised an eyebrow. "You saw the dragon, and that's when you began running?"

        "Yes, Ms. Rarity, I saw Spike," Ms. Cake practically spat.

        "Very well. You saw Spike." Rarity paced about the witness stand. "And yet, as you have so detailed to this court, you've known Spike for all the time he's lived in Ponyville."

        "Yes. That's correct."

        "And in all of that time, has he ever given you a reason to make you want to run away from him?"

        "Not until now."

        "But before now?"

        Ms. Cake stifled a growl as she said, "There was that one time when he turned huge and attacked most of the buildings in Ponyville—or has everypony forgotten that?"

        "No, Ms. Cake, nopony has forgotten," Rarity said. "It's simply that we are not trying the suspect for the dragon ailment that afflicted him on his last birthday. We are trying him for what he may or may not have done on August the twelfth."

        "What do you mean, 'he may or may not have done—'"

        "So, as a normal-sized whelp, a baby dragon, he has not previously given you a reason to run away from him?"

        "Well... no!" Ms. Cake exclaimed. "He's never attacked or breathed fire on anypony before!"

        "And yet you ran when you saw him at the marketplace on August the twelfth?"

        "Well... no. I didn't run away because I saw him."

        "Why did you run away?"

        "I ran away 'cuz he was breathing fire everywhere!"

        "You saw him or the fire?"

        "Huh?"

        "It's a simple question, Ms. Cake," Rarity stated, staring at her firmly now with cold blue eyes. "You saw the suspect or you saw the fire?"

        "I saw the suspect and I ran away from him like every other pony!"

        "But you just said that the sight of Spike never made you run away before—"

        "Then I saw the fire coming from his mouth, okay?!"

        Rarity's gaze narrowed even further. "You saw the fire first, then?"

        "I... well..." Ms. Cake fidgeted. "It's how I knew that I was in danger, if that's what you're getting at. It wasn't just the fact that I saw Spike. I saw him breathing fire!"

        "You actually saw him breathing fire?"

        "Who else could be breathing green fire like that?! Huh?"

        Rarity's lips pursed. A murmur ran through the audience as she lifted a hoof, pointing. "You didn't answer the question. Did you actually see him breathe fire, Ms. Cake?"

        "I saw green fire coming towards us as he was coming towards us—"

        "Was it the suspect breathing fire? Did you see it coming out of his mouth?"

        "Look, does it matter? All of the other witnesses saw—"

        "I am not questioning the other witnesses, Ms. Cake. I'm questioning you."

        "Questioning?! Pffft!" Ms. Cake almost stood up, growling. "You're trying to confuse me! This is b-badgering!"

        "Witness, please sit down," Judge Winters exclaimed.

        "Fitting that you of all ponies would defend the little romantic so desperately, Miss Rarity!" Ms. Cake spat.

        "Order!" Winters growled. "No more of this nonsense, Ms. Cake! I'm warning you—" She nodded towards the bailiff.

        Lt. Knightsteed marched towards the witness stand. She stopped—however—upon seeing Rarity's hoof raised.

        The elegant unicorn calmly shook her head, then turned towards the witness. "Yes, Ms. Cake. I am defending Spike. Like every other pony in this court, I am seeking to ascertain the truth, the same truth that you have been sworn to uphold in the spirit of Equestrian peace and harmony. Now, you have spent the last fifteen minutes answering Blind Justice's questions, in which you described seeing Spike on four separate occasions, describing his physical qualities in precise detail. I'm asking you, are you certain that you saw Spike on the first occasion, when you were attacked at the marketplace?"

        "I saw his flame."

        "Just his flame?"

        "No. I saw him as well."

        "You saw the flame, and then Spike?"

        "I... yes."

        "Ms. Cake, when you saw the flame, was this before or after the ponies started running past you?"

        "What difference does it make?"

        "Ms. Cake..."

        "Nnngh... I noticed the ponies running past me, screaming. Pound Cake was starting to cry as well. I turned around from my shopping. I saw the green flame."

        "And what did you do when you saw the green flame?"

        "What else did I do? I ran away!" Ms. Cake exclaimed. "I didn't just have my own skin to save, but my darling Pound was in trouble as well!"

        "So you ran?"

        "Yes."

        "In the same direction as the other ponies?"

        "Yes..."

        "And in the middle of this running, when did you find the time to see that the green flame was coming from the suspect's figure?"

        "I..." Ms. Cake's face paled. "Well... I... I-I guess it was somewhere in the middle of turning to run from the fire—"

        "You guess?" Rarity trotted towards the witness stand. "You 'guess' or you 'know,' Ms. Cake?"

        "Look, it all happened so fast—"

        "Did you see the source of the flames?"

        "Of course I did!"

        "And you're absolutely positive that it came from the suspect? You're certain it came from Spike!"

        "I'm sure that I saw him! A streak of purple scales and green crests!"

        "A streak?"

        "I was so busy... tr-trying to run away—"

        "Do you mean to suggest that you saw him in passing? Out of the corner of your eye?"

        "Whatever the case, I saw him!" Ms. Cake exclaimed. "He was there and he was breathing fire!"

        "Ms. Cake, you've just told the court how concerned you were for your child's safety. You told us that you started running along with the other ponies through the marketplace. Are you certain that you didn't just see the flames and assume that the dragon in question was the one responsible for the attack?"

        "Objection!" a pony at Blind Justice's table stood and said. "Leading the witness."

        Before Judge Winters could rule on that, Ms. Cake's loud response filled the courtroom, "Look, when I did see him, I knew that it couldn't possibly have been any one else but him!"

        "When did you see him?" Rarity asked, raising her voice to match. "At what moment, Ms. Cake?"

        "At Sugarcube Corner! When he was about to attack Pumpkin—"

        "And what of the other two times?"

        "The other two times—?"

        "During your trip through town to Sugarcube Corner. The one you said you took—galloping as quickly as your injured leg could afford—after Carrot showed up at the emergency triage..."

        "I... I was attacked b-by him twice along the way—"

        "But did you see him, Ms. Cake?"

        "I saw... I-I saw flames..."

        "You saw flames? Only flames?"

        "It had to have been him!" the mare's voice cracked as she started shaking all over. "Honestly, who else could have attacked my family?"

        "Ms. Cake, so far, the only convincing testimony you've given that indicates that you saw the suspect at all was when you ran into him at Sugarcube Corner," Rarity exclaimed, standing firmly in the center of the witness' vision. "What are the chances that—in fear for your family and in agony from the injuries you sustained—you only connected the flame that you saw to the dragon whelp in question?"

        "Objection—" Blind Justice's table tried to interject.

        "Why are you even doing this?!" Ms. Cake stood up, slapping the witness stand with her hooves. "Have you lost all decency?" she growled. "Everypony knows it was him! What was it—thirty suspects?! I'm not the only one, M-Miss Rarity! That little dragon is a monster underneath! We c-can't have him around my family anymore!" Ms. Cake panted and panted, her ears drooping as her sweaty face paled. "Our families... our families, I-I mean... I... I meant to say..." She grimaced as she slumped down to her haunches in the witness stand.

        Rarity stood there, staring calmly, neutrally at her.

        Spike blinked. He glanced to his right. Blind Justice was leaning back in his chair, stressfully rubbing his temples with the edge of his hoof. The dragon was nearly shaken out of his scales when he finally heard Judge Winters' quiet, somber voice.

        "Do you have any further questions for the witness, Miss Rarity?"



        "I do, your Honor," Legal Eagle said as he stood up and shuffled out from the table. Calmly, he approached the stand where an emotional Roseluck stood, trying to calm her own shuddering breaths. "Ms. Roseluck, first off, I wish to say that you have my sympathies. I'm happy to hear that you have recovered a great deal from the injuries suffered on that day."

        She gulped and nodded quietly. "Thank you, sir. It's... uh... good to know that you're so concerned."

        "It must have taken a great deal of courage for you to show up today, especially to discuss the unpleasant events that transpired weeks ago."

        "It h-hasn't been easy..."

        Eagle adjusted his glasses and stood close to the stand. "I was paying attention to the answers you gave Mr. Justice, and I noticed a curious detail. If you wouldn't mind, could you tell the court again the street you were on when you first were attacked?"

        "Yes. It was on Windbrook and Tinderwood."

        "And what was the name of the building that fell on you from the suspect's flames?"

        "The... erm... the Silver Fleece Apartments, sir. I was incredibly lucky, all things considered. It was a three story building."

        "How much time passed between the attack that took place at the corner of Windbrook and Tinderwood and when the hotel collapsed on you?"

        "It... it had to have been seconds, sir!" Roseluck exclaimed. "I had barely started running from the dragon. Before I could even think, I... I-I was under rubble..."

        "Seconds, Ms. Roseluck?"

        "Yes, sir."

        "Not minutes?"

        "No. It was... it all happened so fast."

        "You're certain of this?"

        "As sure as I am about being in court here and now."

        Legal Eagle took two tiny steps towards her, biding his time before asking, "Ms. Roseluck, where is the Silver Fleece Apartments located?"

        "Well, it's all rubble now, sir."

        The young stallion smiled gently. "I mean to ask—where was it located?"

        "Why, on Parsley Street, just... p-past the post office..." Her voice trailed off, as did her teary gaze.

        Legal Eagle adjusted his glasses again. "Ahem... on Parsley Street, you say?"

        "I... I..."

        "Ms. Roseluck, Parsley Street is indeed the location of the Silver Fleece Apartments. But it also happens to be five blocks away from the corner of Windbrook and Tinderwood."

        Roseluck's brow furrowed. She made a pained expression. "I... I suppose it is..."

        "So you mean to suggest that during the 'mere seconds' that the dragon attacked you, you managed to cross five full blocks? That's over ninety meters, Ms. Roseluck, not counting the path that would have to be taken to reach the Silver Fleece Apartments while avoiding the buildings and trees. A grown stallion with athletic prowess would take a minute and a half to cover such a distance at full gallop."

        "But... But I was certain th-that..."

        "Ms. Roseluck, how long have you lived in Ponyville?"

        "Uhm.. fifteen years, sir."

        "So you're certain about the locations and the architecture of most of the buildings in town?"

        "But of course! I—"

        "Yet you somehow managed to fall victim to the collapse of the Silver Fleece Apartments so suddenly?"

        "Maybe..." Roseluck thought aloud. "Maybe it was another building—"

        "But you just confirmed that you're familiar with the layout of Ponyville. What's more, you described the Silver Fleece Apartments as a third-story structure. Is this true?"

        "Yes. I did say that."

        "Ms. Roseluck, are you familiar with the fact that all of the buildings along Tinderwood Street are one-story tall only?"

        She fidgeted with her cast, chewing on her lip as a bulb of sweat ran down her forehead.

        "Ms. Roseluck?"

        "Yes. Yes, they are... all small cottages along Tinderwood Street..."

        Legal Eagle paced for a few seconds. After a deep breath, he asked, "Ms. Roseluck, is it true that you've had a complicated medical history in Ponyville?"

        She snapped him a curious glance. "Huh?"

        He looked squarely at her. "Namely, you've undergone a series of regularly scheduled psychiatic evaluations for three years running."

        "Objection." Blind Justice stood up. "The witness is not on trial, nor should her medical history be."

        Legal Eagle swiveled towards the judge's bench. "I simply wish to bring to question the witness' capability of recalling the traumatic events of August the Twelfth with accuracy. A history with psychological disorder may have had an effect on the validity of her testimony. It is not the defense's wish to deconstruct Ms. Roseluck's character nor embarrass her in any fashion."

        "Your honor—" Blind Justice began.

        Judge Winters rubbed her muzzle in thought. Then, with a deep breath, she said, "Overruled." As Blind Justice sat down, she pivoted towards the attorney. "Mr. Eagle, I am going to allow this, so long as you keep your questions pertinent to the trial."

        "Absolutely, your honor." He turned once more to the witness. "Ms. Roseluck, according to the local medical reports, you have paid several visits to the Ponyville Hospital's Department of Psychiatric Therapy. Is this true?"

        Roseluck hesitantly nodded. "Yes, sir. It is true."

        "What specifically have you undergone therapy for?"

        She gulped and shuddered to say, "I have been diagnosed more than once with Acute Anxiety."

        "And what are the symptoms of Acute Anxiety?"

        She gnawed on her lip. "Uhm... according to my psychiatrist, paranoia, depression, panic attacks—"

        "Panic attacks?"

        "Yes, s-sir."

        "What happens during one of these 'panic attacks?'"

        "I... I-I tend to freeze up."

        "Freeze up?"

        "I... uh... I lose... uhm... I lose my grasp of the situation. I black out—well, I don't exactly black out, but I tend to see everything as a blur, like I'm having an out-of-body experience. My therapists tell me that this is the body's way of dealing with stress..."

        Legal Eagle smiled slightly. "And things have been pretty stressful in Ponyville these last few years, haven't they?"

        She chuckled. A huge exhale came out of her, as if it was a relief to hear and respond to that. "Yes, sir. Things have been... very... very stressful..."

        "For all ponies, I imagine."

        "Yes..." A single tear rolled down Roseluck's cheek. "For most of us..."

        "Are you the only pony who attends therapy sessions at the Ponyville Hospital?"

        "Uhm..." She gulps. "No. As a matter of fact, I attend most sessions with a group."

        "A group?" Legal Eagle leaned his head to the side. "So there are other ponies who are diagnosed with Acute Anxiety?"

        "Well... kind of sort of. We're in there for all sorts of reasons..."

        "Stress related?"

        She gulped and nodded, "Yes. Most of it all due to the stress of... well... living in Ponyville..."

        Legal Eagle took a few steps, biding his time, then pivoted towards her again. "Ms. Roseluck, this picnic that you were at when the fires in town started... did you attend alone?"

        "No, sir. There were lots of other ponies there."

        "But did any of these ponies go with you?"

        She hesitated, but ultimately nodded.

        "Then you weren't alone?"

        She shook her head. "No, sir."

        "And were any of the ponies with you at the time... members of the same therapy sessions that you attend?"

        She bit her lip before saying, "Yes."

        "Who were you with, Ms. Roseluck?"

        "Lily and Daisy... We... We hang out a lot together."

        "Because you're friends?"

        "Well, not just that."

        "Why else, then?"

        "Because our therapist thinks we would relieve our stress better if we got fresh air while in each other's company." She looked up with quivering eyes. "So that we can support each other."

        "Do you find it easy to support yourselves when the three of you are in stressful situations?"

        "Erm..." She sighed and hung her head again. "No."

        "Why is that?"

        "Well, it's the reason we got into therapy to begin with."

        "Oh?"

        She nodded. "Everypony knows why..."

        "Would you mind telling the court why, anyways?"

        "Well... eheh..." Roseluck smiled nervously. "We're... we're prone to... uhm... freaking out at the smallest things..."

        "By 'freaking out,' could you mean suffering panic attacks?"

        "Pretty much."

        "'Pretty much?'"

        "Ahem..." She looked up, weakly nodding. "Yes. Yes, we... we tend to suffer panic attacks the most when we're in the same group. We've gone through so many crazy things in Ponyville, after all. Our therapist thinks we're all... uhm... 'collectively scarred.' He says it happens a lot in war scenarios, but not so much in... uhm... most Equestrian villages."

        "Ms. Roseluck, were you with Lily and Daisy when you first started running from the green flame?"

        "I... uh... I was, yes."

        "And were you undergoing a panic attack at the time?"

        She wiped her eyes dry, shuddered, and said, "Yes. Yes, I'm certain I was then."

        A murmur rose behind Legal as he faced her and asked, "You're certain now? You weren't certain then?"

        "All I knew was that a dragon was chasing us and I-I had to get away for my life!"

        "And when did this panic attack end, do you think?"

        "Sometime after I was pulled out of the Silver Fleece's rubble... I guess..."

        "You're certain of this?"

        "I... uhm... I felt a great deal of pain from my leg. It sort of shook me awake, y'know?"

        "And when you saw Spike, what did you do?"

        "Why, I fr-freaked out!" she stammered. "I felt a panic attack coming again! I thought I had done so well that day, but then it made sense to me that he must have been the one causing the flames, and I lost it! I..." She grimaced as her gaze fell into the distance.

        Legal Eagle raised an eyebrow. "So, you were certain that you saw Spike after being pulled from the rubble? When you were clear in the head?"

        "I... well.. yes..."

        "And were you so certain that you saw him earlier? When you and your friends were panicking in each other's company?"

        "I... I..." Roseluck was shivering at this point. Another tear ran down her cheek. "I... don't know..."

        "Ms. Roseluck, how did you make it from Tinderwood Street to the Silver Fleece Apartments during the time the attack took place?"

        "I..." She hung her head. "I don't know..."

        Legal Eagle nodded slowly, then took a deep breath.




        At last, he asked, "The suspect's back was to you when you tapped him on the shoulder?"

        "Yes, sir," Time Turner said with a nod. "I saw his green crests and everything. It was hot, but he was breathing fire away from me... towards the building fronts and such."

        Legal Eagle paced to a stop, gesturing as he spoke. "I won't bother to question you about what possessed you to approach such a dangerous scene at the time..."

        "Well, good..." Time Turner smiled nervously. "I-I'm not sure I can stand to look any sillier before the court today."

        A few chuckles echoed across the court as Eagle smiled and turned towards the side of the room. "If I could have the body scale exhibit, please."

        A pony walked to the side, then came back with a white placard. Legal Eagle took it, then spun it around for Time Turner to see. It showed a black outline of Spike standing up, along with the labeled dimensions of his body and limbs.

        "What do you see on this placard, Mr. Turner?"

        "Uhm..." The stallion leaned forward from his seat and squinted. "What appears to be a scaled illustration of the suspect, complete with labeled lengths and dimensions."

        "It was made to the precise measurements of Spike, the dragon you see before you." Legal Eagle pivoted it about so that the jury could see. After a few seconds, he held it before him while speaking over the exhibit to the witness. "Can you read the height listed on here? The height of the suspect?"

        "It's labeled at 0.55 meters."

        "Would you say that is accurate, Mr. Turner?"

        "Yes. I think so."

        Legal Eagle turned around and faced the table where Spike sat. "If the suspect could please stand up..."

        Spike blinked. He glanced up at Rarity.

        "It's okay, dear," she said with an encouraging smile. "Do as Mr. Eagle asks."

        With a shuddering breath, Spike slid out of the chair and waddled to the side. He stood beside the table as instructed.

        "Please, Spike, if you would, stretch your arms out," Legal Eagle said.

        Spike obeyed.

        "And now your tail."

        Spike blinked curiously at the attorney, but nevertheless he did so, showing the full length of his fifth appendage.

        Legal Eagle pivoted towards Time Turner once again. "Does this match the exhibit, in your opinion?"

        "Yes. I'd say so, pretty much."

        "Does it match the suspect as you saw him on August the Twelfth?"

        "Yes. It does seem to be the same dimensions, through and through."

        "Mr. Turner, when you tapped the shoulder of the suspect, before he struck you with his... his tail, was it?"

        "Yes."

        "Where was he positioned in relationship to you?"

        "Well, I tapped him on the shoulder, so I think it's fairly obvious that he was standing in front of me."

        "Was he?"

        "Yes. He was."

        "With his back to you?"

        "Correct."

        "How far from your front, would you say?"

        "Well... he was... uh... he was right in front of me!"

        "Did you see his face?"

        "I..." Time Turner winced. "I-I didn't get a chance to. All that I know is that he struck me with his tail. And he struck me hard."

        "Without so much as spinning around?"

        "No. He didn't need to. He just swung his tail and—wham!—I was eating grass."

        "Did you move at all?"

        "Huh?"

        "Did your body move in relation to his during or before the tail was swung?"

        "Like I said, I didn't see it coming! In hindsight I really should have. He was burning everything in front of him—why would he want to give me the time of day?"

        Legal Eagle leaned on the placard like it was a cane. He asked, "Mr. Turner, where did the tail hit you?"

        "Along the left flank, right above the rear leg."

        "You showed the court just minutes ago—Would you care to show the court again?"

        Time Turner shrugged. "Well, alright. I can only wave my butt at the court so many times." A few chuckles arose as he pivoted in the stand and once more showed the discolored bruise along his left rear. "There. Just where it was the last time."

        "Mr. Turner, would you say that you're average in size for a stallion your age?"

        "Uhm..." He fidgeted as he sat down. "So to speak. Why do you ask?"

        "What is your length, from muzzle to flank?"

        "Oh. Uhm... about 1.3 meters."

        "The bruise you've sustained is on your left flank, above the leg. Would it be safe to say that its location is shorter than your total length?"

        "Yes, that would be accurate."

        "How far from your muzzle would you estimate your leg is located, around the spot where you were bruised?"

        "Why... uh... 1.1 meters, I'm guessing? 1.2? That's cutting it real close to the actual length."

        "Understood." Legal Eagle then lifted the placard again, so that both Time Turner and the jury could see it at once. "Mr. Turner, look—if you will—at the numbers affixed to the suspect's tail. Do you see them?"

        "Uh... yes. Yes, sir, I do."

        "What do the numbers say?"

        "Uhm..." Time Turner blinked. "They say 0.2 meters."

        "0.2 meters?"

        "Yes..."

        "You do realize that this is the official record taken by medical examiners who studied the dimensions of the suspect shortly after he was taken into custody. Correct?"

        "Uhhh... Yes. I... uh... I realize that..."

        Legal Eagle stepped aside and pointed towards Spike. "Do you still see the suspect?"

        "Yes..."

        "And you said earlier that you believe the exhibit here accurately represents the suspect who now stands before you?"

        "Yes. I did say that."

        Legal Eagle pivoted about. "Spike, if you wouldn't mind stretching your tail out again..."

        Spike did so, awkwardly. He pointed it straight out until the green crests bulged along their purple-scaled roots.

        "Mr. Turner, do you see any change in the suspect's tail?"

        "Uh... no, sir, I don't."

        "It is the same length?"

        "Well, it's not curled up or anything."

        Legal Eagle pointed at the placard. "Is it curled up in this diagram?"

        "Erm... no, sir. It is not."

        "The suspect's tail still matches the exhibit?"

        "As best as I can tell, sir."

        Legal Eagle placed the placard down on the defense table and marched slowly towards the stand. "Mr. Turner, can you explain to me how the suspect's tail—which is obviously 0.2 meters in length, as detailed by the recorded dimensions as well as by the suspect standing before you—somehow stretched to accomodate the 1.1 to 1.3 meters where it must have struck you to inflict the bruise on your left flank?"

        "I... uh... huh?" Time Turner's face scrunched up. "I don't understand."

        "Don't you? You said that the suspect did not spin around—did not so much as show his face, correct?"

        "Right."

        "And you were standing perfectly still when the suspect's tail struck you, yes?"

        "Yes."

        "So the only thing that moved when you were struck—as you swear it—was the suspect's tail and the suspect's tail alone."

        "Absolutely."

        "So, for the tail to have inflicted the bruise that it did—the same bruise that you have showed the court twice today—it would have to have reached that spot along your body that is at least 1.1 meters from the end of your muzzle, not accounting for the space between you and the suspect that allowed you to touch him on the shoulder."

        "Erm... r-right. It... uh..." Time Turner adjusted his tie, fidgeting nervously. "It... reached my flank... somehow..."

        "How? Did you lunge forward as you took the blow?"

        "No, I..."

        "You stayed absolutely still, right?"

        "Yes. I mean... I'm pretty sure I did. It all happened so fast..."

        "Mr Turner, how could a tail that's clearly only 0.2 meters in length have struck you in a spot 1.1 or more meters away?"

        "I..." He sighed, looking genuinely confused. "I don't know."

        Legal Eagle allowed a few seconds of silence to kick in before he asked, "Mr. Turner, if it wasn't the suspect's 0.2 meter long tail that struck you on August the Twelfth, then what did?"

        Time Turner's lips moved, trying to produce a thought into words. At last, he fumbled to say, "I... uh... I don't know, Mr. Eagle..."



        "Ms. Minuette, about you and your... remarkably mimetic memory," Rarity spoke as she approached the stand. "Would you mind giving us a demonstration?"