The jury, those twelve mares selected by lots to choose his fate, largely ignored the young pony in the grey jumpsuit. Was he waiting for someone? If so, no one came. No one cared. It didn’t matter any more, because time was up. One by one they stepped out the door, and then all at once the jury box was empty.

What happened that night? Would this young colt, a displaced refugee from a bloody civil war, really kill his own mother? After all, the Everfree terrorists no older than this colt had done worse things to better ponies. Had he? Between passion and prejudice, it certainly seems so — but one mare disagrees.

Though Twelve Angry Mares stands alone, it is probably best enjoyed as a sequel, of sorts, to a previous story of mine, Blackacre. You don't need to have read it to appreciate this — certainly the styles and tones struck are vastly different — but it does contextualize some of the prejudice and gut reactions of our cast of characters.
For those of my faithful readers coming from Blackacre: this is not a straight sequel, so if you come at it like one you'll probably be a bit disappointed. There's no sequel proper . . . not yet.

In 1957, Reginald Rose wrote a screenplay about a murder trial. It has since been adapted many times, and the story you're about to read draws from many of those adaptations. Twelve Angry Mares is, however, something entirely different, located in a different world, with different concerns. Though similar on the surface, you are about to read a very different story than the one with which you might be familiar.
And yet — there is a resonance here that goes beyond space and time, beyond one story or another. You are about to read a pony fanfic, but there's more here than just that. The basic elements of this story are ones that should be familiar to all, for this isn't a story about ponies. It's a story about me. About you. About the very heart of the notion of justice, of fairness, of what is right.
I greatly enjoyed telling this story, and sincerely hope you enjoy experiencing it.

The dragons have returned. They've been a thorn in Equestria's side since the beginning. They scheme, dreaming of vast Equestrian lands rich with plunder, of flame-roasted ponyflesh. At long last, the dragons have committed to war, all wings united in their final push to break Equestria. Nopony dares stop them.

Twilight has been expecting this. How could she not? The last time dragons turned a greedy eye to the north, their presence alone nearly destroyed the nation. It can't happen again. It won't happen again. Twilight has a final solution to save Equestria — but at what cost?

Set several decades after Twilight's inevitable rise to prominence, Strangehorn draws on the satire of its namesake, examining the uncompromising drive to harmony that has made Twilight — and Equestria in her wake — the power it is today. An unsurprising tack given the brief tale's pedigree: Strangehorn is a semi-sequel to Blackacre, the political thriller set thirty years before the time of the show we remember.

Both Strangehorn and Blackacre are canon, of a sort, telling of a much darker sort of story than those we usually see on Saturday mornings. Unlike its predecessor, Strangehorn is an experiment in the short form; I gladly solicit commentary on it.

Thirty years ago — before Luna's return, before the Mane Six, before everything — Equestria stands on the brink. A harsh winter threatens starvation, discontent threatens to bubble over to full-blown rebellion, and to the south lurk dragons, hungry for vengeance and waiting for a moment of Equestrian weakness.
But Celestia knows how the game is played, and if anyone can right the ship of state, it's her. No one can dance on the edge of a blade like she can; after all, she was there when it was forged. Slowly, delicately, she charts her course —
And then everything goes wrong.

Blackacre is somewhat different fare than the usual you might find here, telling a much darker story than the sort we usually see on Saturday mornings. It won't be for everyone, but then again what is? This is a story of the long con, of the world as it is — a story both of those who reason why, and those who do and die.

Blackacre has a relatively long history. The notion took root in August 2013; it gestated for a time and took its first real steps as part of NaNo in November 2013. It took a finalized shape around April 2014, whereupon the editing started. The text here was updated in July 2014 to reflect those edits — a comprehensive revision and polishing of the text, including several new chapters and several entirely rewritten ones.
The text you see here is the final version of Blackacre; at least, I don't intend on working it over again. That's not to say I don't welcome and encourage comments, questions, or suggestions, either on the text itself or the style; I certainly spent long enough working on it the first time around, and if you enjoyed it (or didn't!) I'd be happy to talk.
Besides, there will always be room for improvement — and there will be a next time.

Blackacre has no sequel proper. At least, not yet. It does, however, have companion stories, set at different times in the same universe:
Dr. Strangehorn; or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Elements — a one-shot set in Twilight's future, well after her rise to power.
Twelve Angry Mares — an adaptation of the classic story of a murder trial, set after Blackacre but before the show.

Reviewed one year out — and accurately so, too — by Chris.
Analytically reviewed by Cosmic Cowboy.
Rated four moustaches out of five, and later referenced, by xTSGx.