It was only when the burly Unicorn in the corner of the windowless little room glared at her that she realised that she was doing it again. Her left hind hoof was tapping out a rapid beat on the worn linoleum and she snatched it off the ground to kill the sound before trying to force the tic to stop. Land's sake, girl, you gotta get a hold of yerself!

The Unicorn snorted and resumed his previous position, his black jacket and tie standing out starkly against the matt peach-coloured walls. Perhaps the strange colour was supposed to give the place a more homely look but if so, that touch was muted by the harsh industrial lighting and lost completely in the oppressive feel of solid concrete beneath the linoleum and the thinly-padded furniture which was heavily built – and firmly bolted to the floor.

The second uniformed Unicorn shot a look at his companion and gave her an empty smile. “Shouldn't be long now, Miss.”

'Shouldn't be long' stretched out unbearably until finally the sudden chime nearly made her scream. The custody officers came to life, the friendlier of the two at her shoulder. “Right – follow me.”

With that, he shouldered open the heavy, magically-grounded door and she stumbled along beside him, her second escort close behind them. They squeezed through a short corridor which opened out into the main chamber of Fillydelphia Crown Court. To her right, the judge peered benevolently down from a grandiose carved-oak desk on a raised platform, a yellow Earth pony in a violet and black gown with a red sash and her mane hidden under a short, stiff-looking white wig. Arrayed in front of her were a variety of court functionaries who watched impassively as she was led across to the dock. To her left...

She dragged her eyes away and forced herself to stare straight ahead. The press box was packed and the courtroom gallery was overflowing with ponies, and when they caught sight of her a low hum of anticipation broke out. Trying to ignore the weight of a hundred eyes on her back, she concentrated on taking her place in the dock, the friendly custody officer by her side. She took a deep, steadying breath and saw Pro Bono give her a reassuring grin from the nearby defence table. One eye winked at her from behind a pink lens but the unfamiliar, serious-eyed Pegasus pony at her side settled for a nod. On the other side of the jury box, Cui Bono's stern, impassive glare eyed her from the prosecutor's box.

A black-robed official in front of the judge rose to his hooves and adjusted his spectacles. “The matter before the Court is Crown v. Applejack,” he announced in a booming voice, the suddenness of which almost made her shy away. “Who represents the defendant?”

Pro Bono rose to her hooves. “Honourable Members of the Court, my name is Pro Bono, of Graze Inn. I have the honour to argue on behalf of the defendant.”

“And who prosecutes this case?”

It was Cui Bono's turn to rise. “Honourable Members of the Court, my name is Cui Bono, Senior Counsel of the Chamber of Justice. I have the honour to bring this case on behalf of Their Highnesses.”

There was a brief silence, broken only by the quiet clatter of the stenographer. She glanced up at the gallery and saw Big Mac and Applebloom looking down, surrounded by her friends. Twilight had insisted on paying for them all to attend, put them up in some fancy hotel downtown. Of course, she was a wealthy mare now, with that payout from The Fox, but it still must have cost her a fortune.

“Would the defendant please state her name and address?”

Holy horse-hockey, that means me! Even though she had been told what was expected of her, the sudden snap back to the present and a rush of adrenaline made her stutter. “A-applejack. From Sweet Apple Acres, in Ponyville.”

“Clerk of the Court, read the charge,” instructed the judge in a mild voice.

The same official as before carefully slid some paper aside on his desk before speaking. “Applejack, you are charged with one count of Inflicting Grievous Bodily Harm upon Silver Hammerbuck Braise at his place of residence in Ponyville. How do you plead – Guilty, or Not Guilty?”

This was it. Her throat tensed and her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. Swallowing hard, she managed to force the words out with lungs which suddenly seemed empty.

“Guilty.”

One word. A simple word, but at once an eager buzz of voices swept around the Court. The judge contented herself with a peeved look for a moment, and the noise tapered off sharply to silence.

The judge continued, “The Prosecution is invited to present an overview of its case.”

“We have prepared a written Summary of Facts, Your Honour,” said Cui Bono as her assistant passed a folder to the court usher.

The judge's eyebrows rose. “Indeed? And has the Defence had access to this submission?”

“Yes, Your Honour. The Defence does not dispute the Prosecution's case, however we beg leave to submit a written plea of mitigation.”

This time the muttering in the gallery was much louder, and the ponies in the press box were began talking urgently amongst themselves. The judge was forced to beat her hoof on her sharply on her desk and call for order before the outburst was quelled.

The judge gave Pro Bono a long, long look before nodding. “It seems to me that the Prosecution and Defence are uncommonly well-coordinated. Very uncommonly well-coordinated. Very well, I will accept written submissions at the peril of this Court becoming little more than a book club. The defendant is remanded on bail until called for sentencing. This Court is adjourned.”

At the final crack of the judge's hoof, the Clerk of the Court immediately called out, “All rise!” and there was a general scramble for everypony to take their hooves as the judge swept out. The closing of the door to the judge's chambers, however, was like the starting gun for the Derby amongst the ponies in the press box, who bolted as one for the door.

“This way, Miss.”

Half-heartedly returning her friends' waves from the gallery, she turned and followed the custody officer blindly out of the dock, her head down. Pro Bono intercepted her in the little waiting room that she had found herself in not half an hour before. Was it really so quick? In and out and over with, like drawin' a tooth.”

Pro Bono was looking decidedly worried, her usually carefree expression pinched and tense, but she gave Applejack a flicker of a smile anyway. “Well done. You got through it.”

Applejack let out a tiny, jittery laugh. “It ain't like I had much choice, sugar cube!” Her look sobered. “Y'all look worried.”

“Well, there's just sentencing to go, but...”

“Come on, now, spit it out and stop dallyin',” Applejack demanded, a cold feeling sliding into her stomach.

“I didn't like that little crack the judge made at the end.” She waved a hoof dismissively. “Don't worry about it, it's probably just me being over-sensitive. She has a reputation of being a bit of a hard-flank.”

“Y'all know how long she'll take?”

“A few days, maybe a week at the outside.”

“Miss?” The custody officer broke in pointedly.

Pro Bono sighed. “Like I said, you've got half the battle out of the way. Go on, I'll be waiting once you get through processing and then I'll take you to the hotel. Twilight's got a room fixed up for you at the Mareiott. All we can do now is wait.”

It was strange, but the rituals of Court the second time around didn't bother her. In fact, very little had bothered her since standing up and admitting her guilt. It was true. It was honest. The prospect of the sentence paled against the sheer relief of admitting publicly that she'd done wrong. Sure, her friends rallied around, for all that they didn't seem to know how to treat her or what to say, but the four days after the trial were the first time that she had felt at ease and slept properly in months. The prospect of punishment, much like the prospect of hard work, didn't faze her.

At length, the judge came to the point. “Applejack, you have pleaded guilty to one charge of Inflicting Grievous Bodily Harm. I have read the Summary of Facts presented by the prosecution, and also the mitigation presented by your defence. Have you anything you wish to say before I pass sentence?”

A thousand thoughts rushed into her mind at once. She had composed long speeches of regret in her head lying awake in bed late at night before the trial. Apologies and explanations and trying to articulate her remorse. Yet she looked around the courtroom, packed once again with strangers and the press, and she nearly smiled. They were all there, perched breathlessly on the edges of their seats, waiting for her to spill the beans, maybe break down, give them the story that would make them rich. Vultures. Oh yes, she'd seen the papers over the last few days, filled with bile and spite because the gory details weren't aired for them to pick over. Dark accusations of meddling from the Palace. Well, they could go hang. The ponies that mattered – Summer Clip, Silver's parents, Silver himself – where nowhere to be seen, and of the rest, her friends already knew, anyhow.

“No, Your Honour.”

A loud hum of disappointment broke out from the public galleries, the press ponies scowling as their pencils and quills flew feverishly over their notebooks. Huh. I was right.

The judge's hoof thumped angrily on her desk. “Order! Order, I say, or I shall clear the Court!”

The disturbance died sullenly away, and the judge scowled at her. Ain't my fault they're getting rowdy, so don't be looking at me that way!

“Mr. Braise was a victim in many ways throughout this case. Firstly, as the subject of rumour and intimidation. Secondly, a victim at your hooves. Thirdly, the victim of a bloody and grisly killing. Finally – and perhaps most of all – a victim of the most unfortunate coincidence of circumstances which lead you, a pony who is known to have stood beside him during months of innuendo and accusations and even become a close friend, to inflict such serious injuries upon him.

“Despite your early guilty plea, your lack of previous convictions, and the genuine remorse you have shown, this falls into the most serious category of offending and I must warn you that a custodial sentence is inevitable.

“I acknowledge that you may have acted on impulse and when genuinely holding grave fears for your sister's safety, however that does not excuse your attack upon him when he was clearly and obviously already injured and posing no threat to anypony. A moment's cursory examination would have revealed that he was the innocent victim – that word again – of a workplace accident. Instead you struck him with such force as to break bones. Not in fear of your life, or to defend others, but in what you candidly admit was a rage. You then callously turned your back and left him grievously wounded on the floor, begging for help.

“The tragedy of this situation is that when you returned home and found your sister safe, the ponies you sent to Mr. Braise's aid arrived only to find that he had been brutally killed by an unknown creature from the Everfree Forest.”

The judge paused, letting a yawning silence descend over the Court. Not a cough or shuffle came from from the galleries, just the weight of hundreds of enraptured eyes. Heck, I don't even know if they're breathing up there. Go on, say it! Say it! Y'all think I ain't thought it a thousand times myself? Stop makin' this into a show, darn it!

“How or why Mr. Braise was unfortunate enough to attract this creature's attention we cannot speculate. Perhaps simply by chance, or perhaps it was drawn by the smell of blood from his injuries. While you could have had no way of knowing that this would occur, what we can say without doubt is that the injuries he suffered at your hooves, Miss Applejack, would have rendered him totally defenceless. Unable even to flee.

“Having established the facts of this case the Prosecution states that it considered carefully the charge of Gross Negligence Ponyslaughter, and I agree that this case falls short in the essential elements. The requirements of a charge of Inflicting Grievous Bodily Harm, however, appear amply fulfilled and it is on this charge that you are convicted.

"Taking all these factors into account, Applejack, you are hereby sentenced to a period of five years' imprisonment.”

An immediate hubbub broke out in the galleries, and she heard a high-pitched cry, of “No!”.

She closed her eyes. Applebloom. Sorry, sweetheart. She nearly missed the final thump of the judge's hoof on the block.

“Take her down.”

Pro Bono burst in on her while she waited to be taken back to the cells, looking pale and wide-eyed. Her usual dreamy manner was gone completely.

“I've started the papers to lodge an appeal. That sentence is outrageous!” she blurted abruptly. The startled guard held out a hoof and tried to shepherd her back out again, but Pro wasn't having it.

Applejack sighed. “Don't bother.”

“It's completely outside the sentencing guidelines! Hard-flank or not, it shouldn't be more than three, no way! It looks like she's worried about all that garbage in the papers about the Princesses getting you an easy ride. Well-”

“Pro, I said don't bother, all right? Five years? Well, there ya go.”

The guard, who had been trying to get a word in edgeways since the lawyer burst in on them, said loudly, “Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

“But...,” Pro Bono let out a frustrated snort. “It's not justice if you get longer than others for the same offence, just because she wants to look good.”

“Look, I'm grateful for all that you've done, but it's over now. I gotta face the music, and if that means five years, well, so be it.”

“Ma'am?”

Pro Bono turned reluctantly to go but stopped, facing the door. “It won't bring him back, you know.”

Applejack swallowed hard. “I know. I wish it would.”

“Then why?”

“I committed a crime, I can't complain when I get punished. One year, three years, five years, whatever. I can live with that. What I can't live with is knowing what I did to a pony I called my friend. Guess now I've got a while to figure out how.”

The wind was brisk enough to make her eyes water slightly even as it filled her nostrils with the unfamiliar scent of salt and the shore. It sure made a welcome change from the last two days she'd spent cooped up in a carriage at the back of a long train, trying not to inhale too deeply the stink of smoke from the engine, a horde of unwashed ponies, and temperamental latrines.

A light swat on her flank jolted her back to reality as an impatient guard muttered, “Come on, come on, stop daydreaming.” The suddenness made her jerk forward and she nearly tripped. The thick hobbles joined with short lengths of chain that weighed down her legs would take quite some getting used to – especially for her, a pony used to running freely most days. Her hooves, too, felt strange. Her shoes had been the first thing they had taken away from her, and she could barely remember a time that she'd run about unshod.

Her head rope was clipped to a long trace running up the middle of the crumbling concrete pier while the guards made a count of the prisoners. One by one, the ponies at the front of the queue were being led down a ramp onto a battered-looking boat bobbing erratically at the end of the jetty, a huge thing with peeling white paint and the logo of the Equestrian Prison Service on the side. She shuffled forward when everypony else moved, trying to look beyond the high wire fences to see more of the wide blue-green expanse of the ocean. It moved of its own accord, something that weren't natural in her opinion, and she had to smother a tiny frisson of fear. She was an Earth pony, not a Seapony!

Eventually it was her turn, and she was led down a steep gangplank into the maze of pens which made up the deck. She didn't get much of a chance to see anything, but as soon as her hoof touched the steel plates of the deck she could feel the vibrations of the engine which yammered away steadily in the depths of the boat. She also felt a wave of disorientation which took her a moment to recognise. The land. The earth. It's gone! She panted, suddenly breathless, and tried to stop herself from panicking. It stood to reason; she was no longer on the earth, so she could no longer feel the intertwining of it with her magic. It stood to reason and terrified her all at once.

It wasn't so bad while they were still tied up alongside the jetty, but soon she heard the note of the engine pick up. The sudden, rolling lurch of the boat told her firstly that they were free of the jetty, and secondly that no Earth pony should ever put to sea. Her stomach somersaulted alarmingly with every heave of the confounded contraption and she found herself desperately thinking of land, of safety and the reassuringly-solid jetty that she had left behind.

She had stepped off the train in the port of San Franciscolt. Their stop was a singularly-ugly rail depot on a dedicated pier on the waterfront, ringed on all sides with high, barbed wire-topped fences. On the horizon through a blue haze, she had just been able to make out the far side of the great Horseshoe Bay. Their destination was someplace in between; a craggy island alone in the middle of the bay, its ugly grey buildings wreathed in wire and lookout points. Ol' Pro Bono had just about spit her bit when she found out Applejack's destination, but there was nothing the lawyer could do, and now she was in sight of her home for maybe the next five years.

Alcatrotz.