Chapter 21
Cloudsdale by day was a city for the restless. Untethered, unfettered and unbidden, it seemed to float with the ever-changing vagaries of the times just as it floated upon a column of air. The pegasi who made their homes there liked to believe they were living their lives to their fullest potential. They rushed from place to place with all the speed and disinterest of the wind that whipped their cloud home, inhaling life at a frantic pace. Their city seemed to breathe with them, the cold wind blowing through the buildings as much as it blew around them.
Fluttershy shivered slightly as she made her way down a windswept cloud street. Around her, engrossed citizens bustled back and forth, paying her no attention as they went. The hectic rush of life in Cloudsdale was one of several reasons Fluttershy so infrequently made the trip up to her foalhood home, as well as the strain the journey put on her under-exercised wings, among other things. This time, however, she walked with a sense of measured, concealed purpose, letting neither wind nor indifferent passerby dampen her progress.
Unassuming and unseen, she passed by the industrial hubbub of the cloud factories and into the residential districts. Around her, the homes progressed from the simple affairs of the factory workers to the large, yawning mansions of the well-to-do. She took off into the sky where the streets ended, headed for those few monolithic homes perched on their own isolated islands of cloud that seemed to challenge their even being part of the city.
The ponies were fewer and further between, but they still seemed to ignore her as she went, continuing doggedly towards her destination. Even security ponies stationed outside a few select properties paid her little heed. Fluttershy prided herself on her ability to become nearly invisible to those who didn’t know her. And so she flew on.
In time, a vision of towering columns and soaring arches signaled her arrival at the proper address. Fluttershy’s wing beats slowed noticeably and she caught herself holding her breath as she crept towards the house. The structure loomed over her, and she found the words Twilight Sparkle had left her with running through her head. “We need her to testify, and she might need convincing, but don’t worry about it too much. Just kill her with kindness.”
She shivered again, and found herself wishing she had her friends by her side, but she knew they were all on their way back to Canterlot for the resumption of the trial, scheduled for the very next morning. Fluttershy took a deep breath, trying her best to steel her resolve. No, she reasoned, her friends couldn’t be there with her physically, but they were still with her. And she knew she had to be there for them as well, especially Rainbow Dash. She took a deep breath and approached the entrance.
“Kill her with kindness. Kill her with kindness.” She repeated the mantra in her mind as her hoof fell against the daunting cloud door.
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A kettle of tea sizzled and popped on the stove as Spitfire quietly went about her day. From the counter where she sat waiting she glanced upwards to the window above the sink. She longed to draw the blinds back and let the morning light in, but knew better than that, lest she draw unwanted attention from the marauding hordes of paparazzi that had taken to dropping by her home every few hours on the off chance they’d catch her outside and try to snap a few pictures or pester her for comment on the trial. As if they would be that lucky, she thought to herself. She hadn’t been outside during daylight hours in several days.
Then, as if on cue, right as the thought of one of those journalist—though she could only refer to them as such in the barest sense of the word—ponies entered her mind, there came a knocking at her door. Spitfire stood up, suddenly feeling an intense burning ignite in her chest, and marched towards the entrance of her home. The nerve of them, she frowned, to deny the sanctity of her own home not only by prowling outside and peering through windows, but to assert their presence at her own front door as if they were visitors, as if they were guests! She growled slightly, nearing the source of the offending knocking.
“I thought I told you vultures I’d have nothing to do with you and your story-hunting! Now scram!” She shouted, before thrusting the door violently open into the front hall.
She blinked a few times to see the near-trembling form of a demure pegasus, crouching on her stoop with a few thick locks of pink hair shrouding her face in shadow. “I’m sorry. So sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll go. I promise.”
Spitfire could only blink once more, her mind racing to reassess her situation. “You’re… you’re not paparazzi.”
“No. That’s alright. I was just leaving.”
“Well then quickly, get inside before someone snags a picture.”
“But, I…” Fluttershy made to protest, or at least continue her profuse apology, but was cut short to suddenly find a powerful hoof grasp her beneath a foreleg and whisk her brusquely into the house. The door shut behind her almost as quickly.
For a few seconds, she merely stared at the door, as if looking through it at the spot she had been but moments before, her head spinning. When she finally looked up to see her host, she saw Spitfire had her back turned to her. The Wonderbolt Captain sauntered down the hall towards her kitchen, not even bothering to look back. “I recognize you. You’re one of Rainbow Dash’s friends.”
“Um, yes.” Fluttershy called out in reply as she stood, transfixed as the other mare entered the kitchen and began tinkering with a kettle.
“You should know I’m trying to have all my visitors come in through the back door. Less chance of running into a photographer, or worse, that way.”
“I’m sorry.” Fluttershy said once more and immediately felt the need to admonish herself for it. She was supposed to be convincing and impressive, darn it! Not weak and apologetic!
Spitfire shrugged, still not looking at her guest. “Not your fault. You didn’t know.” She decided the tea was ready and brought in off the stove. “Forgive me, but I’m not sure I recall your name.”
“I’m Fluttershy.” The other pegasus intimated, slowly following Spitfire towards her kitchen.
“Well, Fluttershy. As long as we’re here I might as well get down to it. I know why you’re here. And I can’t help you with the trial.”
Fluttershy found herself at a loss for words. Even before knocking on Spitfire’s door she had worried over exactly how she was going to broach the subject of the trial without drawing the ire of the Wonderbolt. Now in a matter of moments, she’d gone from being yelled at, to being invited inside, to Spitfire bringing the subject directly to the surface with neither prodding nor any hesitation whatsoever. Fluttershy could only stare blankly, for a few moments, allowing a silence to stretch to the point where her host just carried right on talking.
“I’ve got some good tea brewing here. You’re welcome to it if you’d like something to drink before you go.”
“That… would be very nice. Thank you.” Fluttershy acquiesced, finally joining the other mare in the kitchen. With a series of deft movements, Spitfire swept the kettle off the stove and poured two steaming cups of its amber contents, pushing one towards Fluttershy and keeping the other. Then she reached behind her and retrieved a small orange bottle from a shelf above. Fluttershy watched as two little white tablets tumbled out of the bottle and came to rest on the counter by Spitfire’s cup. Without a second glance, the Wonderbolt took a swig of tea and downed both capsules. She set the bottle down. Fluttershy could see it was labeled ‘Aspirin’, and decided to take a shot in the dark. “You’re still getting those headaches? I’m so sorry.”
Spitfire shrugged. “They come and they go. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you know about that.”
“Your teammates said something about them.”
“Did they now.”
“They said you had a headache and thought you caught the flu that night at the hotel. That sounds absolutely dreadful.”
“It would’ve been, but only the first part of that turned out to be true.”
“They also said that’s why you went to your room so early.”
“What are you getting at, kid?”
“Well, you were up there the whole night, before anypony else. Anything that happened around your room… well, you might’ve heard something.”
“I already told you I can’t help you with the trial.”
“Do you mean you can’t help, or you won’t help us?”
“I don’t see what the difference is.”
“I don’t know…” Fluttershy took a small sip of tea. “I think there might be a difference between being unable to help and being unwilling.”
“Fine. Let’s say unable, then.”
“So you don’t know anything?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Fluttershy blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“Look, kid.” Spitfire let her chin fall to rest upon one of her hooves. “This is a complicated situation. There are a lot of different facets to it and variables I have to consider that you probably haven’t thought of. When it comes down to it, I’m the captain of the Wonderbolts first and foremost. I represent the whole organization. If I were to testify against one of my teammates, against my second in command no less, it would be devastating to the team. No. I have to do what’s best for the Wonderbolts.”
“What about Rainbow Dash? Isn’t she a Wonderbolt? Doesn’t she deserve to have her captain do what’s best for her?”
“That’s a different situation. The organization as a whole…”
“Or is Rainbow Dash just not enough of a Wonderbolt to matter?” Fluttershy felt a little grin try to bubble its way to the surface, and had to work to suppress it. Inside, she couldn’t help but feel a short burst of adrenaline. She hadn’t planned or expected to respond with such bite, but something in the back of her mind insisted that it had felt pretty good.
“Come on. That’s not fair.”
“Ok. What about truth then? Doesn’t it mean anything to make sure the truth is told?”
“Whose truth might that be?”
“The truth. The actual truth of what happened. If you know it, I mean.”
“Determining ‘the actual truth’ of something can be a risky business. Who’s to say my version of events is anywhere close to it?”
“What if it is?”
“And what if it isn’t? How do you even know my version of events is something that would help your side’s case, anyway?”
“I believe it is, because if it wasn’t, you would have said something to help Soarin’ already.” Spitfire, for the first time, fell uncharacteristically silent. Fluttershy kept up her pace in response. “If you really thought Soarin’ was innocent, wouldn’t you have defended him?”
When Spitfire spoke, she was far quieter and more subdued than before. “What you’re asking me to do is testify against my teammate, my deputy captain, and my friend.”
“I’m only asking you to tell the truth. Your truth.”
“And when that tears my whole team apart?”
“Wouldn’t you owe it to them not to lie? Even for their sake?”
“I’m sure they’d understand.”
“Don’t you owe it to Equestria, then?”
Spitfire sighed, staring at the ripples resonating on the surface of her tea. “It’s not lying if I just say nothing.”
“I don’t think Rainbow Dash thinks so. Or even Princess Celestia.”
The Wonderbolt was reduced to idly stirring her now-lukewarm drink with the tip of her hoof, no longer interested in drinking. “Tell you what. For such a quiet little thing, you drive a hard bargain.”
“I like to think I can be good a persuading others, at least when I want to.”
“Ok. Let’s say, purely hypothetically, that I did know something. And that I wanted to say something. How would I even go about that?”
Fluttershy shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to help you there. It’s up to you to decide what the right thing to do is, and how to do it.”
“I don’t know if I like that.”
“What if I told you that the trial resumes tomorrow whether you’re there or not, and if you’re not, then we won’t have any witnesses to present?”
“I just don’t know.”
“What if I said please?”
“It’s all really contingent upon me actually knowing anything of value.”
“Well, I don’t doubt that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Please pardon my forwardness, but I know you were right nearby the whole time. And… and I know you know something more than you’re letting on. I think you know the truth, and I know there’s some part of you that wants to let it out.”
“It’s hard.” Spitfire whispered, only barely audible.
“What was that?”
“It’s just hard. I want… I really do want to do the right thing, and I know I should—It’s just… it’s so hard.”
Fluttershy peered at Spitfire as the older mare nearly lay on the counter. Then, she picked herself up and walked around towards her, drawing the Wonderbolt’s questioning gaze for a brief moment before she stood and wrapped her fore hooves around the mare’s neck. “It doesn’t need to be.”
Spitfire hesitated for an instant before returning the hug. “If this whole thing is just a nightmare, I wish it would end.”
“I know. We all do. But first, we need your help.”
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The next morning dawned a blazing orange over the stately stone edifices and elegant spires of Canterlot proper. The bright clouds, misty morning fog, and fiery break of daylight found Rainbow Dash and her friends poised once more at the entrance to Canterlot Courthouse. This time, the pegasus felt even more visible than ever. Despite Pinkie Pie rejoining their ranks, the loss of both Applejack and Fluttershy was something she keenly felt as the gauntlet of press neared. It was a sinking feeling of exposure that no amount of Royal Guardsponies seemed to be able to stay.
As they neared the entrance, the sounds of chattering reporters punctuated by camera flashbulb pops became increasingly annoying. Rainbow Dash began to wonder if it was simply her imagination, or if there really were far more ponies assembled and flanking the steps than there had been other days. Once again, she wished there was a way to avoid the onslaught altogether—to simply sidestep the inquisitive press and find a way into the building that didn’t involve ducking every question hurled at her and having her picture taken hundreds of times over. But of course, wherever there was an entrance to the courthouse, they would find her, and they couldn’t be stopped, only kept at bay.
If somepony were to ask her however, she’d say they were even more persistent than usual. Magically-operated microphones poked their way in-between royal Guardsponies only to be gruffly shoved back, reporters practically tripped over one another in their desperation to fire a question off at her. She did her best to block out each prying query, what few snippets of words she happened to catch telling her they wouldn’t be anything less than invasive and insensitive.
She climbed the stairs with her friends pressed tight up against her for cover, deigning simply to keep her gaze fixed straight ahead on the doors and tune out everypony surrounding her. It was a strategy that worked well while the Guardsponies held them back, but as with all things, there was a limit to its effectiveness.
In an instant when two adjacent guards had to grapple with a pair of forceful camera ponies, one reporter spied an opening and pushed his way through. Before any other member of the guard could react, he had pushed his way right up to Rainbow Dash and shoved a microphone in her face. “Care to comment on the rumors that you lied about your—”
He scarcely made it half-way through a shouted inquiry before his train of thought was stopped cold, violently derailed as an alabaster-white hoof came down sharply across his face, sending him sprawling to the bare steps and tumbling to a prone position at their base. The moment played out as if in slow motion, and achieved something that none of the girls nor the Royal Guards had even managed to come close to before: the complete and unaffected silence of the entire bank of press as they turned to look from their fallen comrade to his assailant.
Rarity brushed her hoof off and glanced up at them all, fire in her eyes. “You girls go on ahead,” she deadpanned, “I shan’t be more than a few minutes.”
Wordlessly, Twilight Sparkle hurried a speechless Rainbow Dash and equally-shocked Pinkie Pie in through the doors and out of sight. The Royal Guards stood around, stock-still, as if deferring to the fashionista’s judgment. For her part, Rarity swept her gaze across the faces of her captive audience before settling on the prone form of the earlier offending reporter. She strode slowly down to him as he rubbed he spot on his cheek where the slap had caught him off-guard. “I wish I could say I apologize for striking you in such a fashion, but that would imply that I didn’t enjoy it ever so much.”
She scoffed as she stood over him. “Look at you. Sniveling on the ground because you didn’t get to harass my dear friend like you wanted, serves you right. What in Equestria do you think gives you the right to invade this poor mare’s, or really anypony’s, privacy like that?”
“The… the public have a right to know…”
“Don’t answer that. I’m not nearly finished speaking.” She turned and strode to face some of the other gathered media ponies, still stunned into silence. “You all probably think I’m a bitch, don’t you? Well, that’s fine. Because I know what you are. You’re parasites, the whole lot of you. Feeding off the pain and suffering of complete strangers to make a quick bit. You make me physically ill. You’ve even got your own rallying cry. ‘The public has a right to know these things.’ Sounds just great, doesn’t it? I bet you all think pretty highly of yourselves. You don’t do this out of petty self-service, you do it for the public, right? The everyday mare and stallion who just want to read the news. It’s all just a selfless sacrifice on your part, isn’t it?
“I’ll tell you something, I used to agree with you. I used to believe every piece of self-serving gossip had its purpose—that looking into the private lives of strangers was a basic right. Well, now I suppose I’ve gotten to see things from the other side of the cameras, and I can tell you I’m repulsed. Utterly repulsed.
“What purpose do you think it serves, to attack and belittle and pester a poor mare, just because she’s been thrust into the limelight? Is it just to humiliate her, to expose all her flaws and every tragic piece of her story to be dissected by the public? Is passing silent judgment on our neighbors over the morning paper what we now consider high society? Because if it is, then I shall take no part in it.
“I wonder,” the livid mare continued, glaring down any individual who looked ready to challenge her, “when your dreadful flood of personal attacks, rampant speculation, and merciless rumors became an acceptable substitute for the news. I hope to Celestia none of you call yourselves journalists, though I’m sure you must. To do so seems a crime against such a noble profession. I for one don’t believe for a second that your petty gossip mongering can pass for journalism.”
Her words flowed alternately as silk and as ice. “I suppose there used to be a time when the media brought real news, and the stories told were relevant to the daily lives of ponies. But I assure you that time is over. Just to see some of the atrocities you write! Is my friend Rainbow Dash really such a public figure that her private life holds any bearing over the ‘public’ you claim to serve? I doubt that. I doubt you have any way to justify your daily harassment of her. Reporting on her struggles isn’t about journalism for the lot of you; it’s about creating a spectacle. You create a spectacle of her life and embellish it with your own fabricated rumors and bald-faced lies for the sole purpose of catching readers’ attention.
“In fact,” she raised her voice, impervious to the cameras now trained on her as she finally climbed to the top of the stairs, “that’s what this whole trial has become: nothing more than a spectacle. It is now something to be devoured by your audience and the audience that packs that courtroom every day just so they can have the luxury of feeling better about their own lives. I see now that I am in the minority, for caring about my friend and her fight for the truth, and for her own dignity. And if there’s one thing I’m now certain of, it’s that truth and a pony’s dignity won’t get any respect from the likes of you.”
With her final outburst, Rarity turned and extricated herself from the mass of press, finally entering the courthouse and slamming the door on the outside world. What first she saw was Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash, each with an ear pressed up against the wooden surface of the other door. Rainbow wore a wide, excited grin while Twilight merely gaped. “What happened to ‘keeping our heads’, Rarity?”
“Believe me, Twilight, they should be so lucky I didn’t remove theirs.”
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“Now, Mr. Soarin’, at the beginning of this trial, you entered a plea of ‘Not Guilty’ for all charges, is this correct?”
“Yes sir, it is.”
“Excellent.” Ink Scroll wore a smile in the relaxed yet cocksure manner typical of a seasoned professional. His back faced his audience; all his attention focused upon his client—now finally having taken the stand to supply his own defense. “And do you stand by this plea?”
“Yes. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“So you deny the allegations that you sexually assaulted and raped Miss Rainbow Dash while intoxicated? You are aware that these are very serious allegations.”
“Of course I do! Just imagining that possibility, I… it’s unthinkable is what it is. Inconceivable.”
Ink Scroll lifted a hoof. “Easy now.” He cautioned, “Remember, I know you’re innocent. We’re simply trying to clear your good name for the jury.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just so… hard to keep calm when I’m being accused of… of that.”
“Perfectly understandable. In that case, then, do you deny engaging in sexual relations with Miss Rainbow Dash?”
“No. I will not deny that.”
“Would you care to explain?”
“There’s nothing to explain. Yes, she and I had sex. I thought then, and I continue to believe, that we made a real connection. I understand if she’s come to regret what we shared, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t something real. I’ll stick to that.”
“You understand, of course, that consensual sex under the influence of alcohol is considered impossible by the law.”
“Ponies go out drinking and have these flings all the time, and it’s innocent in those cases. We were both pretty drunk, so that’s all it was, innocent.”
“Would you say you were both incapable of consent?”
“Yes.”
“So how would you describe the encounter?”
“Just innocent. That’s all.”
“Thank you. Now, if it may please the jury, I’d like you to begin relating these events from your perspective. Please proceed whenever you’re ready.”
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Soarin’ wore a wide, characteristic grin on his face as he drank in the familiar sights and sensations of the Cloud Nine Inn’s bar area. Over the years, the hotel and its opulent, private lounge had become his and his team’s favorite destination for almost any major celebration. Secluded enough where they could let themselves loose without fear of the prying eyes of story-hungry press or overzealous fans interrupting them, the place had become a haven for post-victory celebrations and team member sendoffs alike.
And thus, in the time-honored tradition of all those by-gone sendoff parties, or at least the ones Soarin’ could remember, it was the outgoing teammate who purchased the first round, and Rapidfire had made good on this expectation. Soarin’ clapped him on the back as his first of many glasses of beer was delivered to him. He chuckled as his one-time mentor and long-time friend delivered a wry thank-you meant for him and the rest of the team. “Don’t mention it, old-timer.” He laughed and let his eyes wander the bar for a moment.
They almost immediately settled on probably the most visually striking member of their party, one whose six-hued mane and equally remarkable toned body had admittedly already caught his attention several times over by now. He found himself idly wondering, as he already had had occasion to before, whether that shock of hair was natural, or the product of some elaborate and time-consuming scheme of dyes and colorings. Either way, he decided, the look was undoubtedly unique, and decidedly impressive, as well. It certainly let her stand out well in the crowd at the bar, and quite possibly, he mused, in any crowd anywhere else as well.
In the short moment Soarin’ spent looking at her, however, he noticed there was one other way she stood out from the crowd. She was staring down at her hooves beneath the bar surface and fidgeting with them, either unwilling or unable to look anyone else present in the eye, and the empty counter surface before her made it clear she hadn’t touched a drink. In an instant, Soarin’ had realized she wasn’t quite having fun, and in another one, he decided he was going to change that.
With a few strides down the bar, he slid heavily into the seat beside her and immediately swung a fore leg around her shoulder, pulling her close against his body. He looked up, once again catching the eye of Rapidfire, and sent him a grin. “Just don’t forget this party isn’t just for you!” He called, before returning to look down at Rainbow Dash. She leaned loosely against his side, her rose-hued eyes staring straight up at him. A furious blush had broken out across her face. Goddess, if she wasn’t cute when she looked that way, especially towards him. “Whaddya say then, kiddo?”
“Nothing, I mean… wow. This is just… wow.” Soarin’ laughed as she struggled through a response, and gave her a good-natured thump across the shoulder. She appeared to blush even harder, and Soarin’ couldn’t help but feel a rush of exhilaration at the sight.
“Struck speechless, eh?” He laughed, and downed his drink in a few quick gulps. Within moments, he had the bartender bring another round, and set in on his second beer of the night while Rainbow Dash grimaced her way through her first. He couldn’t help but find her nervous first attempts endearing, and with a bit of alcohol-loosened glee beginning to pepper his voice, he told her as much. “Listen, kiddo, now that you’re a Wonderbolt, your first lesson is how to party like one. Got that?” With his encouragement, they polished off the drinks together, and he wasted little time in ordering himself a third and her a second. He clinked glasses with her in a toast to the night to come, and took his team’s newest recruit under his wing, both literally and figuratively.
Their initial frenzied pace, and a welcomed interruption by Fleetfoot in the form of a multitude of amber shots, set the tone for the rest of the booze-fueled evening. Soarin’ soon found himself more than feeling the effects of many drinks, as the world around him spun and giddy, graceless thoughts ran unfiltered through his head. He moved to take stock of the scene around him, and found he had to concentrate heavily to get his vision to focus even a small amount. Although the party had slowed since it began what seemed like hours ago, those teammates who had either a better sense of moderation or a worse sense of fun than he were still at it, taking measured drinks, chatting and laughing in a lively manner as they went. Fleetfoot, of course, was slumped unconscious against the bar, as she was apt to do. Spitfire was nowhere to be seen, and Rainbow Dash…
He looked around a bit more for her before realizing that she was leaning against him, her head tucked neatly into her side. She looked much the same way that he felt, and he couldn’t help but smile for it. Gently, he prodded her, half to get her to look up at him and half to see whether the mare was truly awake.
She grunted and nuzzled further into him, deftly swatting his hoof away with one of her own. The action momentarily caused her to lose her balance, and she grabbed onto him even more for support. For the first time, Soarin’ noticed the young mare’s warmth radiating from her body into his, a feeling probably heighted by the copious amounts of alcohol both had consumed. It was a strange feeling, but it felt right somehow, something warm and good.
In time, Soarin’ became aware of a stirring at his other side, and looked to see Fleetfoot picked herself up off the corner. He chuckled at the uncoordinated display. “Thought for sure you were out cold.”
“Bite me, you lump.” The mare slurred.
Soarin’ laughed. “That’s… that’s no way to address a senior officer.”
Fleetfoot shook herself. “Bet ya wouldn’t say that to your new marefriend over there.”
He glanced back at Rainbow Dash and smiled. It was a nice thought. “That’s not… true.”
“Yeah?” She whispered breathily before prodding Soarin’s shoulder. “Don’t look now, you big lug, but I think you two make a pretty cute couple.” She gestured between the two, giggling as she did so.
“Really?” He turned to take a long, renewed look at the mare draped against him and smiled, warmth coursing through his veins. “I might just have to do something about that.” With practiced ease, he finally roused the young mare with a simple tousle of her electrifying rainbow mane. She came, blinking, up to look at him with those same beautiful, rosy eyes. He had been ready to ask a simple “how ya feeling, kiddo?” but the query froze on his lips when he saw her eyes. He grinned. By Celestia, he felt he could spend hours simply staring at them. Instead, what came tumbling out of his mouth was “I can’t remember if I ever told you… what pretty eyes you have.”
And the next thing he knew, Rainbow Dash descended into a fit of giggles, and he felt a rush of pleasure just to watch her. Soon enough her hysterics petered out and she managed to choke out a simple, if clumsy, expression of thanks. Feeling emboldened by her sudden outpouring of emotion, he leaned in closer, making sure to keep her beautiful eyes locked on his own. “Tell me something. Are you… are you feeling the same thing I’m feeling?” He watched as her eyes went wider, and he could’ve sworn he saw a brief sparkle deep within them. In that instant, he was sure her answer would be, could only be, a profound and emphatic “yes.”
He kissed her, then and there, and felt her melt against him; felt her warmth radiating and mixing with his; felt the unshakable and exhilarating sense that somehow, this was just right, and there was no other way he could have described it.
Lost in the moment, he was vaguely aware of the laughter and cheering that rose up around them. But he couldn’t possibly have cared less. The heat, the liquor, the tingling, electrifying pleasure, the adrenaline that seemed to pump through his very bones, everything seemed to swirl and cascade within him as he held the beautiful mare against his chest and as their lips melded together. His awareness of the rest of the bar and the rest of the world around him melted blissfully away until everything was just her; just her, and the night that lay ahead.
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“After that… well, after that, everything is just a blur. I can’t remember any specifics. We somehow made it up to my room and, well, we just had sex. It’s as simple as that.”
“Really?” Twilight Sparkle, now occupying the floor beneath the witness stand, raised an eyebrow, “You don’t recall anything about how you got to your room, or how the events afterward transpired?”
“Everything the rest of that night is just vague and blurry. The next thing I remember is waking up in an empty bed with a splitting headache.”
“So, you simply can’t remember anything about the events this trial focuses on? I don’t know about you, but I think that seems pretty convenient.”
“What can I say?” Soarin’ shrugged, “I was pretty wasted. We both were.”
“Right. I want to dig a little bit into that, if I may.” Twilight magically produced a few documents from her desk and scanned them quickly. “According to testimony from yourself, your teammates, and the bartender on duty that night, yes, both you and Rainbow Dash imbued significant quantities of alcohol. However, by my count, Rainbow Dash consumed much more than you—by almost five standard drinks. Most of this due to the ‘contest’, she engaged in with Miss Fleetfoot.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“We also know that Rainbow Dash’s blood alcohol content put her just within the range typical for those who suffer from alcohol-induced memory blackout. From what you’re saying, it sounds like you claim to have experienced the same phenomena, is that not correct?”
“If you want to put a medical name to it, alright. Yes, I think that must be what happened.”
“Right. Well, considering that Rainbow Dash drank quite a bit more than you did, and also considering the significant size advantage you hold over her, I highly doubt that your blood alcohol content would have reached the level of Rainbow Dash’s, and for the matter, any level consistent with memory blackouts.”
“I already said everything I know, but I can’t remember any details past a certain point. I can’t even remember leaving the bar. I just know we somehow made it up to my room and messed around for a while, when I woke up she was gone. That’s the honest truth.”
“I also find it fairly convenient that we have no medical records to pinpoint the alcohol levels in your blood. We’re forced to take it solely on faith that you suffered any kind of blackout, with no proof whatsoever.”
“What else can I say?” Soarin’ blinked, confusion written on his features, “I woke up. I was hung over. I took some aspirin and a seltzer. What reason did I have to get a blood test? I wasn’t even arrested until days later, and even then I scarcely knew why.”
“And with that goes the only chance any of us had to verify your claim to memory blackout.”
“If I may interject here,” Ink Scroll called from his desk, “It sounds to me like the Prosecution is tiptoeing around simply calling my client a liar, and unless Miss Sparkle can produce any credible evidence to support such an accusation, her speculations will remain merely that—speculations.”
“If the defense would allow me to conduct my cross-examination in the way I see fit.”
“I believe, Miss Sparkle, in Equestria, ponies are considered innocent until proven guilty. If you’d like to call my client a liar, you’d do well to first produce some evidence.”
“I’ll refrain from calling anyone anything for now, and merely ask questions.” The mare turned to face Soarin’ once again. “For instance, you’ve multiple times referred to your ‘encounter’, as nothing more than ‘a fling’, and something ‘innocent’. Tell me, what indications did you have that Rainbow Dash would have felt the same way?”
“She seemed pretty into it at the time.”
“Really? Because from everything we’ve heard so far, it seems like she barely spoke to you at all after you both began drinking. In fact, if I recall from several testimonies, it would seem that after you asked if she was, and I quote, ‘feeling the same thing’ you were, you hardly waited for a response before kissing her. Tell me, then, how could you possibly know whether she was ‘into it’?”
“It was just… just the look she gave me. I could tell just from that.”
“The look she gave you?”
“That’s right.”
“Let me get this straight. There’s Rainbow Dash, more intoxicated than she’s ever been, her eyes probably glazed over, by her own admission unsure of which direction was up, and you decided to initiate sexual contact based on nothing but the look she gave you?”
“She was just staring at me like, like she wanted me, you know? It was… magic. I don’t have a better word for it than that.”
“I’ve got one. It sounds to me like this was nothing less than the textbook definition of sexual assault.”
“I think that’s a pretty baseless accusation.”
“Really? Baseless? How baseless can it be after the admission you just gave me? By your own words, Mr. Soarin’, you were willing to initiate sexual contact based not on a verbal cue, not on any physical cue, but solely on your perception of a look my client gave you. A perception which, I might add, turned out to be severely flawed.”
“She pushed herself up against me when I kissed her. She was enjoying it. I could tell.”
“She fell against you because she was barely able to support her own weight. That much we know from her own testimony.”
He shrugged again. “You could spin it like that, I guess.”
“The fact has also been established that you were at least cogent enough to hold up a conversation and support your own weight. That, in addition the fact that by any scientific measure your blood alcohol content could not have been higher than Dash’s, lead me to believe you were far more in control of your actions than she was of hers.”
“Listen, I might be a simple stallion, but I know when a mare wants me. That’s nothing new. And let me tell you, she was kissing me right back.”
“That’s a lie!” Rainbow Dash jumped from her seat, her hooves forcefully hitting the desk, and the courtroom went quiet.
“Miss Sparkle, if you could do us all the courtesy of controlling your client?” Ink Scroll sighed with a mixture of consternation and exasperation.
Twilight closed her eyes and turned around, taking a deep breath. “Rainbow…?” She whispered, “Rainbow, please. Let me handle this.”
It was a few more moments before the prismatic mare returned to her seat and Twilight could once again face the defendant. “Tell me, Mr. Soarin’,” She asked, now quiet, “if you really believed my client ‘wanted you’, do you think you’d be sitting in that chair now?”
“I didn’t say she didn’t regret it afterwards, but she was into it at the time.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
“Hey, I get it. We all do things we wind up hating ourselves for when we’re drunk. I’ve done plenty. But that doesn’t excuse all these accusations made against me.”
“You’re not being tried over regrets.”
“That’s easy for you to say. From where I’m sitting, this whole trial has been about nothing but her trying to save face after a night she regretted.”
Twilight shot an uneasy glance back at Rainbow Dash, and although she swore she could see steam beginning to build up in the other mare’s ears, she was glad to see she kept her seat. She took a deep breath, hating herself for what she was about to say. “What do you say, Soarin’… to the recent revelation that Rainbow Dash was, in fact, a lesbian?” She could feel, like the rack of a whip, the collective attention of the courtroom audience suddenly focus,and she forced herself not to wince.
“If that’s true—”
“It’s not even in question.”
“Again, if it’s true, then it doesn’t change much of anything. Like I said, we all do things we regret when drunk. Sleeping outside of your ‘preferences’ doesn’t seem too impossible. It might even explain why she’s so desperate to save face.”
“Quite frankly, Soarin’, I find the insinuation that my client, or any mare, would seek and level a criminal lawsuit over her so-called ‘regrets’, to be highly insulting. Please, if you’re going to assert such blatant diatribes, do us all a favor and ground your reasoning in a little more than your own self-victimizing assumptions.”
“I—”
“No.” She cut him off. “First, I’m going to ask you again, and I want a clear yes or no answer this time. If Rainbow Dash truly wanted to have sex with you, do you believe you’d be on trial for rape and sexual assault, with the possibility of life imprisonment hanging over your head?”
“… No.”
“Good. Then what, truly, do you believe happened between the two of you that night?”
“She made a mistake! Everypony makes mistakes, right? So it was a mistake to… to sleep with me… I guess. But I’ve done nothing wrong!”
“Fine. You can believe that. No one’s stopping you. But here’s what I believe.” Twilight Sparkle cleared her throat and stood just a little taller, sweeping her gaze to pan the jury and the rest of the assemblage. “We’ve heard from several of your teammates that you’ve been regarded for years as a ‘mare’s stallion’. You’ve slept with dozens of mares, even members of your own team, particularly new recruits. You even slept with Miss Fleetfoot the night she joined the team, is that correct?”
“Yes, but—”
“I am not finished. So, over your years of gaining fame and fortune as a Wonderbolt, you came to the understanding, the expectation, that any mare you’d come across would want to sleep with you. After all, it happened so many times, with so many mares, after so many nights of heavy drinking, how could anything else be the case? So from then on, any mare you took an interest in must automatically have taken an interest in you, and for a while, it worked. It worked with Fleetfoot, and it worked with many other mares, I’m sure.
“Until one night, when the mare who catches your fancy happens to be Rainbow Dash, and giddy on the excitement of finally becoming a Wonderbolt, not wanting to disappoint her new teammates at a party in her honor, she’s willing to drink. And she’s willing to drink quite a bit, as luck would have it. So, in a drunken haze, you think of course, of course she would want to sleep with you. After all, it’s what you’ve come to expect from mares, isn’t it? So you don’t even wait for her answer, and suddenly a half-dazed, unfocused stare becomes enough to confirm your misguided belief that she wants to be with you. You lead her to sleep with you, never once thinking during the entire exchange that you were bringing her to do something she never wanted to do in the first place. Tell me if I’m wrong.”
Silence. Then, “You’re wrong.”
Twilight chuckled. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Unfortunately for you, that’s up to the jury to decide.” She whipped around to shoot a triumphant grin at Ink Scroll. “The prosecution rests.”