There was a lot he could see through the window. It hadn’t always been that way, but it had of late. There had been smudges he’d put there himself. They were the things that kept him from truly seeing: his own opinion and his own misconceptions.
But even in the beginning, there had been much that he saw all too clearly. He saw the way the ponies walked, with existent but diminished purpose. Day by day, they worked to earn a living in a world that didn’t seem to remember joy as well as it had, as if it had amnesia.
The once perfect Equestrian society had become something far less. Spike could remember all of this though it was a century ago, back when he was still a child. One day, they all disappeared, the patrons of the sun, the moon and the stars. There were no longer any alicorns in Equestria.
A provisional government was set up, and those leaders soon took control of all. The economy was expanded, and suddenly concepts which had never been conceived became commonplace. Investing, corerations, and credit became a way of life. For a time, life seemed better than it had ever been. But as the divide between the rich and the poor grew, so did unrest across Equestria. Peace gave way to uncertainty; happiness gave way to despair. That was what he saw out of his window.
This went on, not just for days, but for years. It troubled him deeply. He often found solace in his other friends, who together mourned the loss of a friend and prayed that she would come back. Even in an increasingly foreign land, they managed to make something of their time.
Recalling these memories brought a smile to his face. He remembered the season where the Apple Family harvest went badly, and he, Rarity, Pinkie and the rest worked on the farm for the whole of applebuck season. Thanks to the help, the Apples managed to pull through another year, despite the harsh taxes. He remembered the time Pinkie ran off into the Everfree and wasn’t seen for a week. After coming back, said only that she’d wanted to “take a short hike”. Even after having searched for her that whole time, they all shared a laugh. He remembered the time Fluttershy gathered the courage to ask Caramel out on a date. That one date had turned into a long, happy marriage for the both of them, and foals too.
That was the one thing he most remembered about that time: Fluttershy’s children. First she’d had twin colts: Rocky Shoal and Forrest Dew, and then a few years later, a Pegasus filly who they’d called Wind Whisper. Often, they brought the foals over to the library with the rest of their friends, and all together they watched them start to grow up.
Spike didn’t remember when the Library became their regular meeting place; over time, it just happened. Whether this was in homage to their missing friend or just a random event, nopony had a clue. It was like a second home to them, especially to Fluttershy and co. The timid mare time and time again thanked Spike for having them. It was no trouble, of course – after all, almost nopony had bothered to visit the library in those days - but over those months he began to notice that the couple was bringing their children over more and more.
One day, Spike asked Caramel about it. The two sat down across the kitchen table, poured themselves some cider of the harder brew, and discussed it. Spike had grown from a baby well into his adolescence, and although by dragon standards he was still little more than a child, the ponies of Ponyville seemed to treat him as an adult. After all, he lived by himself, had a job, paid his own taxes, and the like.
Caramel thought of him this same way, and didn’t hesitate to share the very adult problem. Spike remembered this conversation very clearly, as it had been a turning point in his life.
“Spike, I’ll just cut to the chase here,” Caramel said, pouring himself a second shot of cider. “I take it you’ve been to Shy’s cottage, right?”
Spike smiled weakly. He knew this was serious, but the fact that Caramel still had it in him to use his wife’s nickname was a good sign. “I’ve been there a few times. It’s a nice place if you don’t mind the animals.”
“Yeah, those critters really do get in the way sometimes,” he admitted. “You see, that’s actually part of the problem.”
“What, are you afraid the animals will hurt Whisper? Rocky and Dew seemed to do fine with them.”
“No, it ain’t that. Fluttershy told you how she built the cottage, right?”
Spike nodded. “She said she found it when she first moved here, and asked the mayor if she could have it. I guess she didn’t really built it, but that’s how she found it”
“Pretty much,” replied Caramel, refilling the glass which Spike had just emptied. “You see, under the old law, that house wasn’t owned by anypony anymore, so they said could have it without paying and what-not.”
Nodding, Spike took a sip of the Apple family brew. He could see where this was going, and he didn’t like it.
“Now they’re saying that the house ain’t rightfully her cause she never bought it and she ain’t paying taxes on it.”
“I thought it was tax exempt because of what she was doing for the animals.”
“Yeah, well the big guys up in Canterlot decided we gotta pay taxes on it now, and pay the original value of the house too.”
“Why are they making you pay the prince? Did they find the original owner of the house?”
Caramel shook his head. “It’s just them being them, Spike. There ain’t anything we can do about it.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know. I can’t pay for the house by myself, and you know I love ‘Shy to death, but she doesn’t earn much of anything these days. You have any ideas?”
Spike thought about it, but it didn’t take him long to figure out what he was going to do. He looked up, and in meeting Caramel’s gaze, he saw that he was thinking the same thing. It was more of a formality for him to ask; he was too proud to state it outright.
“I suppose you could come live here, if you wanted. There’s plenty of extra space.”
Soon after, Caramel told the others what was going on, and they all went along to help relocate Fluttershy’s things – mostly of the animal variety – to the library. It was a tight squeeze at times, but despite the rambunctious foals and Fluttershy nearly taking his ear off thanking him, it had not been that bad. After all, if he needed any help, all Spike had to do was ask, and a friend would be there.
These things didn’t trouble him, but there was something else that did. It had to do with the foals, and at the same time everything else. Even with the crowded house and things to do, he still spent most of his time in front of that window. He saw a controlled unrest that wouldn’t take all that much to become anarchy. Most of all, he saw the foals running amuck, vandalizing buildings and stealing things as if it were something casual that had always been part of life.
When he wasn’t looking out that window, he looked back at Fluttershy’s young ones. They managed to keep the three of them isolated from the toxic society outside, but he knew that there was only so much he, Fluttershy, Caramel, or anypony else could do to keep that out, or them in. The only thing separating them from everypony else was a door, a door that they couldn’t just lock them behind forever. Eventually, those foals would grow older, and they would be exposed to this as the others had been.
So he decided he should something about it. The government had made its citizens feel helpless for some time, but Spike remembered a time when they’d been very powerful. Sure, he hadn’t been one of the elements, but the elements weren’t really the point. It had been more than those necklaces that made them powerful. They were ponies who were willing to take a risk to get something good done, and even without Twilight, they could do it again.
So one day, when they were all over at the library per usual, he brought it up. A long conversation followed, but in the end, they decided against it. They all had their reasons to hate the regime, but unlike the other times, they would not be fighting a rampaging dragonequus or changeling queen, but Equestria itself, and for that reason they refused
Later on, Spike realized how unfair of a question was. His friends were adjusted to their life in this new world, and they were moving on. Fluttershy had her children to take care of. Applejack and her brother were barely managing to keep the farm running, so asking her to spare any more time was out of the question. Pinkie Pie was now the sole owner of Sugarcube Corner, which was one of the few places that seemed to bring happiness to the Ponyville ponies. Rarity had been forced to close Carosel Boutique, and had seen better days.
But there was Rainbow Dash. She, like Rarity, had seen her dream fade before her when the Wonderbolts had been absorbed into the military, no longer a group of elite fliers but of elite fighters. There were other teams which had taken their place, but she didn’t pursue that path. Instead of holding on to a dream that wasn’t there, she’d just continued flying on her own, flying against her greatest rival: herself.
Spike never saw any rational reason for her refusal, so one day, he asked her the same question once again.
“Didn’t I tell you before I didn’t want any part of this?” Dash asked, slowing her flight and at last coming to a hover.
“Yes, I know you did, but you never told me why.”
Sighing, she folded up her wings and let gravity take her the short distance to the ground. “Spike, I’m not going to help you, and that’s that. It’s overkill.”
“Overkill? Are you kidding? After all the government’s done to us, you think its overkill?”
“Yeah, I do. As fun as it would be to have one last adventure, I don’t think it’s the right time; it might not ever be. I mean, yeah, they suck, but they haven’t hurt anypony. Everything that’s happened has been something we’re doing to ourselves just because we can’t handle a little adversity. Why blame the government?”
Spike didn’t really have a response to that. It wasn’t what he’d expected, although now that he thought about it, he hadn’t known what to expect in the first place.
“Dash, when did you get so deep?” he asked finally.
She chuckled. “I don’t know, guess it just happened. I’m glad you understand and stuff.”
“No, no, you’re completely right. I guess I’ve been getting a little bit carried away.”
“Yeah, try to remember that Spike.”
He remembered. Every time they did something he didn’t like, he remembered that in the end, it wasn’t some diabolical ruler that was ruling Equestria, it was regular – albeit misguided – ponies.
He remembered as the years went by, when they continued to share those moments that made every day special. He remembered it as they raised families, and went about their lives as they had before. He remembered as he saw them grow old, and as they one by one ended their time under the Equestrian sun.
And he remembered as he looked out the library window year after year and watched the foals play. Where once he’d seen only the result of a society gone to hell, he began to see a happier, more hopeful scene. The world around him hadn’t changed, but the lens he saw it through had. For those same foals still ran amuck and still didn’t know the difference between right and wrong, but they still shrieked, laughed, and romped as they always had.
Over this time, he’d become a leader, and in his lack of action, he’d done the hardest thing a leader could do: not lead. More so than the senseless ponies up at the top, he was in control. In a sense, he was the leader - an Emperor with the best interests of his subjects in mind.
He had no idea if things would change, but if they would, violence could not induce it. It would have to happen through the course of time, not guided by some leader but by society itself. In taking power, he would be no better than those who currently led, who abused those under their power.
All he could do was watch the world fall, and hope it would catch itself before it was too late.
One ought to hold on to one's heart; for if one lets it go, one soon loses control of the head too.
-Friedrich Nietzsche