Guilty as Charged

by The Equestrian Gentlecolt

Part 2 - The Crime

The shop was empty except for her and me. She went straight for her usual booth and sat, head hung low and eyes on the table. It was a ritual I was more than familiar with, one that we had gone through many times before; she needed badly to talk, but she didn't know how to start. I poured a cup of coffee and reached into my display for the lemon glazed doughnut--I had always made sure to keep at least one in stock, just in case--and came out from behind the counter to bring them over to her.

But when I set them down in front of her, she just stared through them, like she couldn't see them at all. Then, instead of staring at the table and starting to spill out her troubles like she had always done in the past, she looked up at me.

In the moment our eyes met, I saw pain, sorrow, and confusion. Then it all vanished in an instant as she focused on me, replaced by a terrifying, single-minded intensity.

"Joe. I want you to take me. Now."

I stood, open-mouthed and unable to respond. It hadn't been a request. It hadn't even been a demand. This was an instruction, a step to be completed in the list of things that had to be done to bring order back to her life.

"Now, Joe," she repeated, without breaking that terrible gaze. "Take me to your room and make me yours. Animals do it, Joe. I know you know how."

It wasn't right. I knew it wasn't, even as I nodded numbly and she stood. But she was so commanding, so insistent, that she left no room for argument. And little Twilight had grown into such a fine mare...

It wasn't right, but I did it anyway.

I took her into my room, and she took me into her flesh. Our eyes didn't meet again that night. She fought against me every time I became too gentle for her. There was no tenderness, no affection. It was rough. Animal. Just the way she wanted it.

The burning heat of the sun weighs heavily on the stallion's back. The crowd has begun to edge toward areas of shade, and more than a few of the fancy Canterlot suits and dresses are beginning to look uncomfortably warm. Joe keeps his gaze forward; he doesn't need to look back to know the reason for the heat--in fact, Celestia's expression betrays nothing, remaining as impassive as ever. But the sun above them blazes bright and hot.

In the morning, she was gone. There was no goodbye, not even a note, and nothing but the scent of her on the sheets to prove that she had ever been there.

Everything went as it always did over the next week. Ponies came, and ponies went, and the shop remained a little bit empty even at the busiest of times. I began to wonder as the days of the week dragged by if I had just imagined the whole thing.

But late that Friday night she appeared again, and sat again at that table. Again, she waited for me to approach, but didn't touch what I brought. She never spoke. Our eyes met and I knew what she wanted.

In the morning, she was gone.

It went on like that for weeks. If there were other ponies in the shop, she would wait patiently there until they left and I approached her. Every week our eyes would meet, then she would follow me to my room, and never once did a single word pass her lips.

Even then, I knew that it wasn't me she wanted; it was what I could do for her. What I could do to her. What I didn't know was why. But when I got my first hint, I knew it could only get worse from there.

That night, when she finally spoke again, was different. She didn't look at me, her eyes remained downcast even as I came to her table and took her to my room. But after each of us had taken our satisfaction from the other's body, she twisted in my grasp until she faced me. She looked into my eyes, and she spoke.

"Joe. How do you tell somepony that... say there's somepony who loves you. And you love them. More than anything else in the world. How do you tell them that the way you love them... isn't the same way they love you?"

The air goes cold with those words, as if the heat of the sun suddenly no longer reaches the earth below. Indeed, although Princess Celestia's steely mask remains firmly in place, those present would later swear that in this moment, the sun itself had dimmed.

Joe pauses, breathes in deeply, then presses onward.

I had no answer for her. She looked sad, but nodded, and she made no effort to turn away from me again. We slept in each other's embrace for the first time that night, and I think I drew as much comfort from it as she did.

Still, in the morning, she was gone. She returned the next Friday, but although she was silent again, she picked at the doughnut I brought her for a bit before she raised her eyes to mine in her wordless plea.

That night, our eyes met as we made love. But when we were done, as we stared quietly into each other's eyes, as the faintest hint of a smile started to form on her lips for the first time, something went terribly wrong.

"No..." She broke her gaze from mine, head jerking away and body tensing, then her magic shoved me roughly off of her and she scrambled out of my bed. "No no no no no!"

"Twilight, wait!" I got to my hooves quickly, but instead of going to the door, she bolted into the corner of my room and just curled up there, shivering.

"I love her." She repeated the phrase over and over, like a mantra. "I love her. I love her. I love her." I reached out to touch her shoulder. Her head snapped up, and the look in her eyes was fear; the wild, mindless terror of a trapped animal. She whimpered, a pitiful mewling sound that nearly broke my heart, then she hid her face from me and went back to her tremulous chant. "I love her. I love her. I love her. I love her."

No matter what I did, I couldn't coax her out of the corner that night. I finally settled for just putting a blanket across her where she lay. But I didn't sleep that night. I sat on the bed and watched her, long into the morning hours, until her frantic muttering quieted and her shaking slowly transitioned to the gentle rise and fall of sleep.

I must have drifted off at some point after that, because I awoke to a bright flash of light and the sound of the blanket falling to the floor. She was gone.

The next week, she looked even more worn and tired than she had been. I don't think she'd been eating; I could start to see her ribs under her coat. She sat at her table. I approached with her coffee and doughnut.

"Eat," I prompted gently.

She just stared through the offerings as if they weren't there. I lifted the doughnut to her lips, but she turned her head away, her ears pinning back in annoyance.

I pressed the doughnut to her lips again, unrelenting. "I know what you're here for," I told her. "This is my price. Eat."

That seemed to cow her. She bit down obediently, then one bite turned into many as she devoured the treat, her ears lifting a bit. She swallowed the coffee in a few gulps, then looked around the table for more. I quickly gathered a plate of doughnuts and a pot of coffee and put them in front of her. She dug into them like a starving mare. Which she probably was, the poor thing.

Once the plate was empty, she stared down at it silently for a moment, then breathed in deeply, breathed out, and spoke.

That was when I knew that there was no answer for her. That there would never be an answer.

"Joe... say there's somepony who loves you. And you love her. But not the way she loves you. Say... say that... it's Princess Celestia."

A disbelieving murmur runs through the crowd. Ponies look to their princess, but her face is unreadable, giving them neither confirmation nor denial. Whispered conversations begin to break out, but cease immediately as Joe speaks again.

My biggest mistake that night, as it had been from the beginning, was in thinking that I could give her comfort. Give her shelter from her pain. I tried to lay a hoof on her shoulder, to console her.

She froze as I touched her. Then, without warning, her horn flashed to life and I found myself on the floor.

It's a terrifying experience to be wholly in the grip of another unicorn's power. Most unicorns don't have the strength to overcome another pony's natural resistance at all, let alone hold them fully paralyzed against the ground. But Twilight Sparkle wasn't most unicorns. That became frighteningly apparent as she stood over me and raged at me, fury burning in her eyes.

"Don't try to comfort me, Joe. Don't try to tell me it'll be alright. It won't be alright. It'll never be alright." Her breathing became heavier as her voice rose and her magic tightened around me. "I didn't come here for your pity! I didn't come here to be treated like a foal! I came here for you to hurt me, Joe... and if you will not hurt me, I will make you hurt me!"

I won't sugar-coat it. She forced herself on me that night, there in my shop. Whether or not I would have tried to stop her... it didn't matter. She held me to the ground with her magic and took from me what she craved. She was beautiful and terrible above me; the glow of her horn created a halo around her head and cast her face into shadow, turning her into a supernatural creature of rage and pain and desire. She kept her eyes down the whole time, hidden behind the bangs of her mane, but the tight-lipped snarl on her muzzle, the roughness of every motion, they told me that the fury there never faded.

I was hers that night. Forced though I may have been, I made no move to resist her. I gave myself to her wholly, to do with as she pleased, and she took everything I had. And when she'd had her fill, she sat straddling me, panting for breath, staring down at my chest from behind her mane.

Then the tears began to fall. And as they wet my coat, she told me her story. I remember every word.

"She invited me to Canterlot. Just to talk, she said. Of course I was overjoyed. We kept in touch through letters, but we hardly ever got to see each other face-to-face anymore. And when we did, it was usually because of some disaster threatening the kingdom. I went straight there as soon as I got the invitation.

"And we did talk. We spent the whole afternoon in the gardens, over tea, just talking. I don't even remember what about. It doesn't matter. It was... it was wonderful, Joe. Just her and me, together, talking. Then when it started to get dark, we went inside, to keep talking. We headed to her private chambers, because there was a book in her study that we'd been discussing earlier."

She paused for a moment, quiet, breathing raggedly. I resisted the urge to reach out to her, unsure of what she might do if I did, though I wanted badly to. Soon, she spoke again.

"We didn't go to her study. She led me to her bedroom instead, and she told me to lay on her bed. I was a little confused, but I didn't think much of it. Maybe she was going to go get the book and bring it back. But I got even more confused when she came right over and lay next to me, and put a wing over my back.

"Then she leaned in close, until our muzzles were almost touching, and... she kissed me."

She let out a little shudder, losing the trail of her story again for a moment. I waited for her to continue.

"It wasn't a quick, friendly kiss. It was long, and deep, and passionate. There was no mistaking what she meant by it. I was too shocked to respond, but that didn't keep her from holding me in it until I pulled away.

"The look she gave me when I did... it was that look. The one she has that tells you that everything will be okay. Gentle, loving. Understanding. She told me she knew how I felt about her. She told me that it wasn't wrong to have those kinds of feelings, and that she had the same feelings for me. She told me that she... that she loved me too.

"Then, still as gentle as could be, she pressed me onto my back on her big, soft bed and..."

She went quiet again, and I, unable to help myself any longer, risked reaching out a hoof to touch her cheek. She didn't turn away.

"And I didn't resist her. I didn't deny what she said. How could I? She was Princess Celestia, my teacher, my mentor, the pony who inspired me to be everything I've ever wanted to be. And I did love her. I do love her. There's nothing in the world that I love more than her. Just because I didn't love her that way...

"But then I thought... maybe I did love her that way. After all, she was Princess Celestia. She wouldn't be wrong about something like that. She couldn't be wrong about something like that. Maybe I just needed to give it a chance, and I would see it too."

She brushed her cheek against my hoof, taking strength from the touch, then lifted her eyes to meet mine.

"But I don't, Joe. I don't love her like that. I can't. Not like that. I never will."

Comments

[EchotheWolf]

Kind of a heavy topic here... Still, great story, though!

[iloveportalz0r]

>The shop was empty except for her and I
This should say "The shop was empty except for me and her"

[Just Some Random Guy]

1719426
Hmm? I thought when you are talking about someone else you always put yourself last... Or maybe I misunderstood my teacher :/

[undead darkness]

1720038 no your correct i dont know whats he is thinking