Time spent in a courtroom tended to propagate across additional legal institutions: something which held true for every part of the system. But when it came to Sex Court, there was a single near-truism: namely, that those who were in attendance within the gallery for the first time tended to wind up in a contract attorney's office shortly thereafter. It was clearly going to take an expert to determine if the privacy clauses in their ticket contract were that solid.

They were.

They had to be.

Gallery members could discuss cases -- with each other, generally within the confines of the courthouse. You could also arrange to meet up with fellow season ticket holders well away from the building and talk matters over, just as long as all participants were certain that nopony else could overhear. It was theoretically possible to fictionalize a case, writing a story based on courtroom events in such a manner as to completely hide the source material -- except that somepony claimed to have once seen Judge Heartstopper carrying a legal thriller into her office and since just about nopony could conceive of her reading for fun, the assumption was that she would know. And she would not be happy.

And under normal circumstances, that was about it.

(Anypony who had a habit of talking in their sleep was advised to either rest with a gag in place or invite their current partner to a courtroom season: some of the newer attendees encountered considerable difficulty in working out which solution would be more uncomfortable.)

But the privacy clauses were was necessary. The legal system understood that Equestrians had to be permitted access to every part of it. No case could ever be tried without having the potential for witnesses. It was possible for the public to collectively decide that they were going to stay away -- herd instinct could play a part there -- or for the law to require that everypony within a courtroom be sworn to secrecy. But there had to be an open chance at observation. For a trial to exist beyond view was to raise questions as to exactly what was being hidden and with a few of the more repressive governments across history, no one was going to risk expressing that query out loud.

The people had to be allowed to watch. The issue was that they were watching other people. And given that so much of Sex Court consisted of abject humiliation under cross-examination...

The privacy clauses were what allowed the vast majority of adult plaintiffs to risk a court case at all.

Adolescents always operated within a shield of privacy: the law was a little different there. It also allowed files to be permanently sealed: the resulting documents were destroyed on the crucial birthday, and the newly-minted adult was often permitted to light the fire. But with mares and stallions... they would have to talk about what had truly happened, under oath, and their words would be stored within some level of permanent record. The fact that the actual Records Room featured some of the strongest protective enchantments in the realm wasn't quite enough to get most of them through the door. They needed codified, diamond-solid, legal reassurance that their words wouldn't reach the public. And without that protection, too many would have feared seeking Justice, because the only visible path would have led directly into Mockery.

Without the privacy clauses, just about nopony (and no one) would ever come forward. The vast majority of gallery members eventually came to understand that, especially if they wanted to stay -- and when somepony did try to sneak in with the intent to gossip (or worse, publish), the regulars effectively served as an extra law enforcement squad.

But even for the long-timers, the clauses could still be frustrating. Because there was only so much time to talk it over, a limited number of those with whom you could have the discussion at all and when it came to the daily events of a Sex Court session, you never knew.

Celebrities turned up with fair regularity. Some of that was because the famous often falsely believed that wealth and popularity equaled knowledge and therefore, any proposal to try this was being made by an expert. Too much of the rest came about because multiple plaintiffs had purposefully tried to set up a bad encounter. After all, if you were going to sue somepony, it was clearly best to go after those with money.

Politicians were questioned under oath, generally while sweating heavily because the truth was required and the majority were at least mildly allergic. Bearers had been known to trot in and while the majority of gallery members had initially needed to be told what the mares did, that didn't change the fact that several of them had appeared in court. Including Rainbow, who had reached the point where she was on a given-name basis with the first five rows and had put most of them on her Hearth's Warming mailing list. You were supposed to send out cards, and her rookie ones from Wonderbolts trading packs obviously counted.

Normal, everyday citizens of all species held down most of the docket. The known were the minority. And it was still understood that everyone needed to feel safe, or just about none would have approached at all.

The gallery understood. But it was frustrating. Because ponies were a social species, they wanted to talk, and -- you never knew what you were going to hear.

Or who you were going to see...

---

The court clerk failed to clear her throat, looked at the entrance doors, and then glanced towards Judge Heartstopper.

Her expression didn't come with subliminals, because that was a word which implied that something was being hidden. In Impassi's opinion, the open nervousness on Robin's face was openly broadcasting 'Are we sure we're ready for what's about to happen? ...again?' across what was very nearly the full range of pony senses. Her dark, half-twisted features covered visual, the too-fast breathing had hearing wrapped up, sweating took care of olfactory and if the mare's blush grew any hotter, that was thermal...

The judge subtly nodded.

Robin tried another breath. It didn't help.

"The settled zone of Ponyville, District One," she shakily announced, "versus --"

The doors opened. Most of the gallery looked towards the sound and because the stadium seating meant that the majority were looking down, some of them decided to just keep following up on the general direction until their freshly half-swooned bodies collapsed into the aisles.

The unicorn, who had once been declared as The Most Beautiful Mare In Canterlot and had charged for her (now-retired) escort services accordingly, didn't deign to notice.

"-- Fleur Dis Lee," Robin finished, and visibly considered lying down for a while.

The conscious part of the gallery simply watched her move. Some were entranced by the shifting of the gently-streaked mane. Others focused on the legs, because ponies were prone to leg fetishes and when it came to this mare, you got quality added to a quantity which had been vertically extended for their viewing pleasure. There was special attention paid to the quality of her makeup, which enhanced features that had already been micromanaged on the biological level. Two mares decided to ask where she was getting her hoof polish, both tried to call out in violation of multiple gallery rules, and a pair of tongues mutually locked.

The judge impassively observed the approach, because that was her job. But she was fully aware that there were those among the attendees who had no interest in unicorns, mares, or ponies, and quite a few of them were beginning to recognize the stirrings of an internal Maybe?

Everyone looked at Fleur. For those who hadn't had the chance to get used to her, it was impossible not to watch. How could you find yourself in the presence of a mobile masterwork and not drink it in?

They watched her move.

Then they started to notice how she was moving.

To say that the unicorn was tall was to indulge in understatement as self-defense. Fleur Dis Lee was among the tallest mares known to exist, and all it took to potentially move her into the global Top Ten was factoring alicorns out. And there was no lingering adolescent aspect of having been stretched: every part of her body was in perfect proportion.

Her legs were simply long, with muscles proportionate to the overall length. But her mass had increased accordingly, and when a mare who was that tall was half-stalking into a courtroom, every too-hard impact of those sculpted hooves tended to echo.

She refused to look at anypony. Pale purple eyes were focused entirely on the defendant's bench, and the intensity of that furious gaze was doing its best to set the whole thing on fire. The mane might have been gently shifting, but the ideal styling of the tail was threatening to come apart under the force of the lashing.

When it came to the former escort's behavior, Impassi possessed something fairly rare: a basis for comparison. She had seldom been present at the sort of parties which Fleur had once been regularly hired to attend, largely because those affairs ran on gossip and judges rapidly grew tired of explaining how privacy clauses worked. But there had been a few. And it also wasn't Fleur's first time in the courtroom, because escort services occasionally led into the sort of case which was destined for Sex Court and when those who managed the district's licensed members were asked to provide an expert witness, they had to send somepony.

Fleur, during the two cases which had seen her serve as an expert witness, had displayed most of the same behaviors she demonstrated at high society gatherings. Dominating the opposition attorney was a simple matter: domineering didn't add much in the way of complexity. She would be cool, calm, collected, and utterly in control.

This mare's trot directly stated that gravity had recently found some way of pissing her off, and remaining upright was an act of pure defiance. It was very much like witnessing a secondary-school student who was stalking on the verge of a outright tantrum.

-- stalking. Fleur stalked. It took an exceptionally angry pony to move like a griffon and even then, some degree of direct experience was required.

The little giant reached the bench. Climbed up, slammed her body down, and a perfect form overflowed the wood in multiple directions.

Several dozen gallery members adjusted their fantasies. Three added ragequit options, then tried to work out whose rage it was going to be.

"Miss Dis Lee," the judge immediately began, "you are in a courtroom and as such, you will make an effort to control your temper --"

"-- let's just get this over with," the mare furiously declared. "You can skip right to the sentence if you think it'll save some time, since explanations obviously just don't work --"

"-- Miss. Dis. Lee."

There had been no true increase in volume. Only force.

Fleur's tail lashed again. Slowly stilled. The purple eyes continued to glare.

Robin's lightly-vibrating forehoof pushed a file into view. Judge Heartstopper carefully opened it, then glanced down.

"You have," she noted, "entered a preemptive plea."

"So you can just skip --"

"-- of 'guilty'."

"-- to the sentence, so I can figure out what I'm supposed to do, how anything is going to work --"

"There will be no sentencing," Impassi solidly stated, "without testimony. You will be sworn in, Miss Dis Lee: I presume you recall how that procedure works. And then you will speak."

---

The oath took three attempts. Emotions had a way of turning up within a unicorn's castings and no matter how calm Fleur was now pretending to be, her corona kept manifesting glowing spikes. Or rather, the second attempt had her bring it down to mere spikes. The first required Robin to swap out the usual oathbook in favor of something a little less crumpled.

"This is a Ponyville case," Impassi finally noted.

"I... live there now," Fleur carefully stated. (The tail didn't lash.)

"As the town's dedicated escort?" the judge inquired, because asking a question for which you already had the answer was a classic judicial trick. It was all about seeing how the witness responded.

"I retired," the unicorn sharply said. "It's why I haven't been sent by the commission for --" a little more slowly "-- a while."

"Your last appearance as an expert was at the end of last summer," Impassi put into the record. "And it's spring now. A season which has brought you into the courtroom on multiple charges of --"

She looked down again, and forced herself not to squint at the still-surprising words.

"-- 'unrequested sexual interaction'."

There was no point in asking the gallery to quiet down. Only eight attendees had openly gasped, and Impassi felt the reaction was justified. The rest were probably preoccupied with trying to figure out how 'unrequested' applied to Fleur.

"...yes," the unicorn quietly said. "That's what I was told the charges would be."

"Charges," the judge said, "which most typically see their trials take place within our neighbor. As felonies."

The mare was silent.

"Except that in your case," Impassi went on, "the police chief and district attorney mutually agreed to have every last charge tried as misdemeanors. While requesting privacy and discretion on what, even for this courtroom, is an unusual level. You are the sole pony who will be providing testimony, Ms. Dis Lee. None of your -- victims are present." Her snout carefully flipped to the next page. "According to this, they aren't even aware that you're here. There is no prosecuting attorney to speak for the nation, as you have chosen to leave everything to me. And the pony who initially sought charges..."

She stopped. Looked up from the paperwork, and gazed down into those steady purple eyes.

"What happened?" Judge Heartstopper asked. "In your own words."

Fleur's eyes slowly closed. Remained shut for six heartbeats, then forced themselves open again.

"It's spring," the former escort said. "It's all because of spring..."

Impassi waited.

"I've been working as --" and the pause felt slightly too short "-- a veterinary assistant."

The gasp count in the gallery went higher.

"Full-time," Fleur added. "It's -- student training. You can work in a practice before graduation, and you can take instruction from whoever operates it. It's my first spring as an assistant, and -- there's a lot of births in spring. A lot. Some of them tried to go wrong, and more had to be supervised. We've been trying to divide up the workload, but she needs less sleep than I do and it's just been constant pushing, day after day. I..."

The sigh was fully unexpected, and exceptionally soft.

"...thought the muscle cramps were just because I wasn't getting enough rest. The headaches were starting to become normal. And we've been working on improving the thermal sealing at the cottage, so feeling a little hot just meant something had to be adjusted again..."

Impassi was starting to see the shape of it.

"Your corona?" she asked. "Because the normal presumption is that veterinary work would have had you using it almost constantly."

"Was the last thing to go," Fleur quietly said. "Or the final part to come in. We cleared the last kits -- badgers -- and then there was nothing happening. Nothing at all. I went straight to bed. Just for an hour or so, or until she needed to wake me up. But I woke up on my own, just before sunset. And everything was -- stable." A little more quietly, "It was done. We'd reached the other side. And it was a beautiful spring night, there were no more animals who needed help, all the newborns were secure, it was warm and Rainbow had unofficially added a light breeze into the schedule, we'd been stuck in the cottage for weeks and I... wanted to get her outside..."

"When you didn't feel well," Impassi observed. "Headache, muscle cramps, a low-grade fever --"

"-- I'm not the sort of unicorn who uses their corona for every little thing," the former escort protested. "And I didn't want to start casting, not when I had a headache and everything was finally over --"

"-- you didn't recognize that you were sick --" the judge expertly cut in.

With a sudden fierceness, "-- I thought it was all just because I'd pushed too hard! Overworked! I didn't know!"

"That you had Rhynorn's Flu," Impassi determined.

Most of the gallery indulged in the newest gasp. The beautiful head simply dipped.

"...yes."

A disease which exclusively affected unicorns, and one without cure. It tended to strike the weary, exhausted, and vulnerable. For the afflicted, the next four to seven days would see the majority of symptoms being treated with palliatives. All but the last.

"I... went down the ramp," Fleur wearily went on. "I made sure it was over, and that we could both leave safely. I felt like the best thing we could do was get off the grounds for a while. She was nervous..." The laugh was both short and sharp. "...of course she was nervous. It's her. But she was willing to try, as long as a messenger bird knew roughly where we were going and could find us in an emergency. So I took some medication, she packed a pair of picnic saddlebags, and -- we went out. To have a meal outside. And just be with each other under Moon."

The unicorn paused.

"We wound up on the eastern edge of town. And we found a pasture."

Oh.

Impassi Heartstopper had occupied the court's judicial bench for several years, while a good portion of the gallery had attended cases which originated in Ponyville.

"I'm still new in town," Fleur's resignation offered. "It's my first spring. And she -- never had a reason to go there before."

Nearly everypony with experience had already heard the word 'pasture' enter the testimony, and were simply waiting for it.

"A pasture with oddly tall grass," the judge decided. "High enough to conceal anypony whose belly and barrel are prone against the soil." Something which would even hold true at Fleur's exceptional height.

"We both use anti-tick measures constantly anyway," Fleur wearily stated. "It's part of the business. And -- it was warm, the night was clear and beautiful, the grass was rustling --"

-- which was where the wince momentarily froze the words.

On the eastern edge of town.
In Ponyville.
On what probably would have been one of the first truly warm and beautiful nights of spring.
Oh dear.

"Pockets of rustling," Impassi's hard-acquired expertise judged. "Widely spaced. Quite some distance away from each other. And with that much grass in motion, a number of other sounds can be concealed."

Fleur, who was still fairly new to Ponyville, instantly proved her qualifications for permanent residency.

"If Rainbow hadn't set up that breeze --"

"-- Miss Dash is not at fault." For once. "Describe your next actions."

The former escort's perfect teeth were briefly visible, because that was what happened when a pony pulled their lips back in aggression. Or -- anger. It was just a question of where the emotion was being directed.

"I've been trying to get her to be more -- adventurous," Fleur finally said. "Sexually. She's new to all of it, but -- she's shy." The snort had an almost visible force. "Of course she's shy. But I thought -- it was warm, it was beautiful, we were alone and the grass was concealing us anyway..."

The grass conceals a lot.
And you didn't know that.
Oh my.

"You talked her into it," Impassi verified.

"Yes."

The gallery, which was trying to reconcile the former escort being officially off the market and collectively had some idea for what was coming, decided it wasn't going to get a moment-by-moment description of the sex and patiently waited for the explosion to go off.

They knew there was going to be an explosion. The tale had a boom-shaped hole in the center. They just didn't know what the bomb had done.

"We never unpacked the picnic," the unicorn reluctantly admitted. "She just shifted the saddlebags off her body. If I'd taken anything out..."

"I'll presume you both were low in the grass?"

"It was the only way she felt safe. If we were both out of sight. She was willing, she wanted to try, but -- she was still nervous. And I thought... the best way to calm her down and get everything started..."

Three, two, one...

"...was with my trick."

"Which is?" the judge dispassionately asked.

Perfect features scrunched in on themselves.

"I -- usually don't tell ponies --"

"-- you are under oath and they are sworn to privacy," Impassi reminded her. "Your personal spell, Miss Dis Lee. The one which, at this point in the account, you are just about to cast. While you have Rhynorn's. What does it do?"

The next hesitation was much more suited to the unicorn's partner.

"...I can make my corona vibrate," Fleur finally said. "Inner or outer surface, the whole or just part of it. At different frequencies and oscillation rates."

There was a collective inhale from the gallery, which nicely counterbalanced the sound of a half-fainted Robin slumping across her desk.

Oh dear.

"A potent massage tool," Impassi neutrally observed. "With -- other uses. Which you cast while sick with Rhynorn's. A disease which makes it impossible to willfully direct a corona. Which, in fact, randomly scatters the energy in all directions, where it works itself out on anything it happens to touch."

"...yes."

The former escort abruptly gritted her teeth. Purple eyes fully opened, and an angry glare lanced towards the bench.

"You know," the little giant furiously declared, "there's certain things which a newcomer should really be told when they move into a town. Warnings. Certain restaurants. Paths you shouldn't use as shortcuts. And incidentally, there's this huge empty pasture with stupidly tall grass, maybe you might want to know about that, it's usually called Exhibition Field and when it's a warm night in early spring with a surprise soft breeze, Rainbow, because herd instinct and groupthink are two of the stupidest things imaginable, as long as they remember to keep some privacy spacing between each other, it just happens to be where every adventurous couple goes to have sex!"

Impassi didn't laugh. She completely failed to snicker, because both of those things were best given over to those who were more actively fighting off the urges within the gallery. The image which had resulted from Fleur's description was simply put away for later, and then she glanced down at the case file again.

"I will assume," the judge stated, "that you quickly learned about the presence of other ponies within the pasture."

"Those sounds weren't exactly muffled," Fleur bitterly said. "I got her out of there as fast as I could. Staying low. She wanted to know what she'd just heard, I told her the first thing I thought of, and she's still trying to get out there to see what the new bird looks like. The one which sounds so much like a pony, except for being high-pitched and really surprised and --"

The unicorn stopped, and her head went down again.

"So that's my testimony," declared the former escort. "I already signed off on the verdict. Let's hear the sentence."

"I have a few questions," Impassi corrected. "And then the sentence can be pronounced."

Fleur rather elegantly shrugged.

"You were medically confirmed as having Rhynorn's?"

"The blood test came up positive. There's probably a copy in the file."

There was -- but judges had to ask. "Has your corona strength ever been formally tested? Even with the subdivision of your energies... even for a Gifted School graduate, that would still be an impressive number of affected parties."

The streaked tail twitched with irritation. "I'm above average and I'm too old to be a first-year. That's all I want to say."

Impassi decided to let her have that. "One more, Miss Dis Lee."

The unicorn forced a nod. Waited.

"Why did you turn yourself in?"

Silence.

"According to the file," Judge Heartstopper reviewed, "your illness, when it came to its effects upon your corona, was as severe as the physicians had ever seen. Your casting hue was distorted, and that hardly ever manifests with Rhynorn's. Closer to dark purple than pink. So nopony could have recognized your corona color, your very signature was warped, and with everypony else in Exhibition Field -- distracted -- nopony saw the two of you leave. You went into the police station on the next morning, asked for privacy, and then confessed. To a crime for which not a single pony in the pasture that night had requested charges. Investigation, yes: there was some rather natural curiosity regarding events. But not charges. And yet you confessed. Why?"

There wasn't a furious syllable to be found. The unicorn, eyes half-closed, simply breathed. And that was all.

"Miss Dis Lee --"

"-- nopony knew," the rather young adult said. "Somepony probably could have figured it out. And if they did..." A slow, exceptionally deep breath. "...then this is easier. To just -- get it over with. To take the consequences and see how bad it is. Because if I hadn't confessed, and somepony just solved it -- that would have been worse, right? That's what everypony keeps saying. And they also say that Honesty is some kind of virtue. So I tried it out. I was honest. It was me. I'm guilty. What's the bucking sentence?"

And I'll let you have that one too. Just this once.

"There were other picnics in the pasture," the judge announced. "Ones which, for the actual food service, got somewhat further than yours."

Eventually, Fleur nodded.

"I asked you," the surrendered unicorn pushed out between clenched teeth, "what's the --"

"-- I understand that in addition to the other effect, you broke quite a bit of glassware," Impass observed. "Pay for it. Anonymously. Ask Chief Rights to get a total, give her the funds, and she will distribute them."

"And?"

"There is no 'and'," the judge calmly stated. "That's it. Pay for the glass."

This time, the whole of the large body twitched. Both hind legs slipped off the bench, and hooves slammed into the floor.

"That's not funny --"

"-- it's not a joke," Impassi neutrally informed her. "You were ill, Miss Dis Lee. A unicorn with Rhynorn's has one responsibility: to stop casting. And you only verified your case when the spell went wrong. You had no control over what happened: lacking control is part of the definition for that disease. And nopony was hurt." She paused. "Rather surprised, yes. At a minimum. And according to the file, a few have been going back to the pasture. Hoping that the experience will repeat, when we both understand that it will not. Pay for the glass."

An entire courtroom had to strain for the former escort's final word.

"...why?"

"Because nopony was hurt," Impassi Heartstopper said. "Because it wasn't truly your fault. Because Honesty is a virtue, and some would claim that those who practice virtue should be rewarded. So, unless somepony somehow manages to piece together clues which barely exist... The Case Of The Mysterious Magical Night Orgasms will remain unsolved."

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