Internecine

Pronouncement on the Protection of the Foal

On the fifth day of the seventh month of the year 992 of our Princess the highly esteemed Elder of Celestia Sherry Aria the Long-Lived gave the Pronouncement on the Protection of the Foal before the Council of Scholars and a petitioner representing the judicial division of Canterlot. A stenographer named Ficklepen transcribed her words as so:

Line 1 - Sherry: The session has begun, and my word is Celestia's will. I henceforth decree that the wilful consummation of carnal desire may not occur upon a foal, or in its presence. Such behaviour is corruption of the fundamental innocence of the immortal soul of the minor and as such he that commits it shall be executed by death itself.

Line 2 - Petitioner: If a parent kisses its foal on the lips, is it permissible?

Line 3 - Sherry: It is permissible.

[ ... ]

Line 32 - Petitioner: If a foal permits the consummation of carnal desire upon itself, is it permissible?

Line 33 - Sherry: There is no consideration given to consent.

[ ... ]

Line 98 - Councilor Red: If a foal consummates its desire upon an unwilling individual, who is the culpable individual?

Line 99 - Sherry: A foal can be defended against without great fortitude. Therefore, if the unwilling individual does not repel the foal, it has aided in the corruption of the minor and the defence is untenable. The unwilling individual is thus itself guilty of the offence.

[ ... ]

Line 394 - Petitioner: There are no further questions.

Line 395 - Sherry: So be it. By will, logic and consensus, the law is in effect. The session is thus terminated.

—

Pipsqueak hummed to himself as he opened the door. It was dark, but he was not afraid; Luna was watching over him, he knew, and he knew just as well where home was.

He'd find it, at the very least; there were quite a few other foals walking down the street back home and the residential district wasn't particularly easy to get lost in.

A drunken filly’s voice came from behind him. “Hey, Pipsqueak!”

He stopped walking and looked up and around to see a grinning, red-cheeked face. “Oh, hello!” he said, smiling. “Scootaloo! The party really was wonderful, it really was.”’

“Heh.” She put one of her forehooves over his shoulder, coming up close to him; he could smell the alcohol on her breath. “You know what else’s wonderful?”

He laughed a bit uncomfortably, pushing the hoof gently off himself. “Er, Scootaloo? You appear to be a mite ankled.” His head tilted a very slight bit. “You do know you’re only a few years older than me, right? Not exactly overage.”

“You know Berry doesn’t give a flying—hic!—doesn’t give a flying feather ‘bout that kinda thing.” She put her hoof right back on his back, giggling. “You’re cute, followin' rules and all. Like a good little pirate.”

“Er, thank you,” he said, walking forwards a bit. “But I really ought to get going right now. My nanny's waiting for me.”

“Hey, wait,” she said, and pushed her hoof upwards, running it through his fur and grabbing the small of his neck. “Wait. I’ve got somethin’ to show you.”

“Will it take a while?” he said, and rubbed around her foreleg.

“Not too long,” she said, and laughed a bit. “C’mon. You’ve gotta learn how to—hic!—loosen up! C'mon.” She pushed forwards, bringing him along with her.

ELABORATE THIS SECTION LATER

Pipsqueak laid by himself for a while.

He coughed a bit and spat, walking down into the and into the street. He looked up and saw the moon.

“Luna?” he asked, rubbing at the bits of semi-dried fluid keeping to the strands of his fur, walking down the path. “Can you hear me?”

The Princess did not answer.

He went further down the street, towards the tree-house library; it was the only landmark that seemed familiar.

He would rather have gone home, but he wasn’t entirely sure where home was.

—

Twilight rubbed her eyes lethargically as she heard the pounding on the door.

“Spike?” she said, yawning as her eyes scanned the room. “Spike, is that you? Why are—”

She looked down to see Spike rubbing his own eyes in his little basket, and quickly got up. “Oh dear,” she said, pushing the sheets from herself. She quickly trotted towards the stairs, taking care to measure her steps as her side pushed against the safety rail. “Can’t believe they’d send it this late.”

The knocks came again, several magnitudes lower on the Richter scale than Derpy’s usual. She hurried, almost tripping as she reached the bottom of the stairs and searched for the lamp switch as her horn glowed. “Coming!”

Her hoof caught ahold of the cord she needed to pull and the place exploded in light; she shielded her eyes from the brightness and went up to the door, rubbing her eyes. A small Trottinghamian voice reached her ears as she opened it. “Twilight Sparkle?”

Not her usual mailmare, she supposed; she was a bit too tired to care. “Yeah, I’m Twilight Sparkle. I’m waiting for a package from Trottingham, it’s probably about this big—”

She trailed off as her eyes opened to see a spotted little earth colt, his mane somewhat messed up. “Pipsqueak?” she said, shaking her head a bit. “What’re you doing out here this late at night?”

“I—” He looked at his hooves, taking a slight gasp as if unsure. “I’m lost.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Lost? Pipsqueak, you—”

Quite suddenly, she became aware of the damp trails running down from his eyes and the spots around his mouth; she blinked rapidly, kneeling down. “Are you okay?”

He nodded quickly. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.” She looked closer and touched a slightly crusty spot on his side; he winced, and as she looked over him she saw vivid spots of black and blue.

Disheveled mane.

Sticky fur.

Covered in bruises.

Late night.

The symptoms clicked, and her mouth went wide open.

Crying, stained, bruised, lost foal denying anything’s wrong coming lost to her doorstep in the middle of the night.

Her horn flashed and her magic engulfed Pipsqueak for half a second before it grabbed the nearest scroll and quill; without looking at the paper, she began furiously transcribing the knowledge she had magically acquired. Fluids, injuries, locations—she'd let the courts decide.

Spike’s tired voice came from behind them, along with the sound of baby dragon feet on wooden steps. “What’s all the ruckus about?”

“Who did this to you?

“You won't believe me. It was a pegasus and I'm an earth pony.”

Twilight grimaced. “I'll make sure he never hurts anypony again. Tell me who did this, Pipsqueak.”

He looked shamefully down at his hooves. “She was a filly. She was only a little older than me.”

Twilight shook her head. “That doesn’t matter, Pip. I need you to say exactly what happened. Spike,” she said, turning her head around and ripping her eyes off the little foal as she continued writing, “get ready to write a letter. Take down everything Pipsqueak says perfectly. After he's done, get him a shower and send the letter as fast as possible.”

The dragon yawned, walking over to the kitchen. “It’s two in the morning. I’ll go make breakfast, then—”

There was a purple flash, and he found himself staring into Twilight’s narrowed, bloodshot eyes. “Now.”

Spike fell to the floor with an 'oof'; as Twilight headed up the stairs, she heard the first half of Pipsqueak's sentence.

“You’ll tell Cheerilee and she’ll tell mum and I’ll get in trouble—”

She closed the door behind her and scanned the bookshelves. She had plenty of books on Equestrian law in the library, but nothing like this.

As she reached the top, her body and the few items she needed disappeared in a flash of purple light and reappeared in her Canterlot study.

She didn't realise her mistake until it was several hours too late.