Ever on the Edge
Ever on the Edge
"Equestria is a democratic republic. We elect our leaders for limited terms and balance their powers of office so that no one pony has more control than the others. It has been like this for over a millennium, and I see no reason to change it." She banged her cane on the wooden floorboards, punctuating her words.
The two younger ponies seated opposite her by the fireplace looked at each other unhappily and sighed. One shook his head and massaged his temples with his hoof. The other leaned towards her grandmother and tried again.
"We're not suggesting that any of that should change, only that Princess Celestia be given the power of veto when the senate is deadlocked like this. Nothing is getting done. No decisions are being made. We need to break the stalemate!"
"Is Celestia asking for this privilege? Does she agree with you?"
"Well, no, but—"
The cane banged against the floorboards once more. "No! Because she knows perfectly well what will happen." Kindred Path leaned back in her chair, squinting her eyes at the youngsters before her. After a moment's pause, she spoke softly. "You felt the need to get involved with how Equestria was being governed when you thought it wasn't moving in the right direction—"
"When it wasn't moving at all," interrupted her nephew. "Changes need to be made!"
Kindred shook her head slowly. "But are they the right changes?" She held her cane up to forestall her nephew's response. He closed his mouth and sat back sullenly.
"I've heard your arguments again and again, nephew. You are nothing if not consistent." He rolled his eyes, but she ignored his petulance and continued. "There are reasons things are the way they are, and until you fully understand those reasons, you cannot hope to change them for the better." She looked at the two of them. "You trust the princess, do you not?"
"Of course we do," said her granddaughter. "Completely. And so do you. That's why we want her to be able to make decisions."
"She makes decisions—hard decisions—every day. You know this as well as I do. And her decisions are acted upon. Celestia can change the face of Equestria with a word, and you want to give her power?"
"No, grandmother, not—" She sighed and looked at her cousin, but he was staring at the ceiling and frowning, hooves crossed. "Celestia has power, yes. But—but it's like she turns a deaf ear to the squabbling of the politicians. More and more, greed and self-interest are taking over the senate. If only she would exert some control—"
Her granddaughter stopped as the cane shook in her face. "Control! Yes," said Kindred. "You agree she has power, but you also want to give her control."
Her nephew threw his hooves in the air and exclaimed, "It's the same thing!"
"No! It is not. The difference is everything. You took up this cause in order to force a change upon the senate—"
"Not force, grandmother."
"Does the senate wish to give Celestia veto power? Do they want her to have the ability to override their decisions? No? If you seek to change the senate against its will, then that is force, whether that sits well in your heart or not."
"Not every change the senate makes is wished for by the populace." Her nephew leaned forward, speaking fast and loud, eyes intent. "The ponies of Equestria are chaffing under the capricious dictates of a corrupt and conflicted government. They have proven themselves incapable of reacting in a timely and effective manner to the challenges Equestria faces. Without a firm hoof to guide the senate, to steer them away from decisions that hurt us all, Equestria will fall into chaos. Celestia must take a more active roll and be given the power of veto!"
"I've heard your passionate speeches before, nephew. You have a gift for grabbing the hearts of those that feel the passion of your words—but you contradict yourself. You say the senate makes 'decisions that hurt us all' and also that they are doing nothing. Which is it? When they act in your favor, they are moving to slow? When they act against you, they are moving too fast?"
"That's not what I'm saying at all!" He stood up and held out a hoof to her, pleading, "You know what I mean. The trade agreement with Saddle Arabia has been locked up in committee for—"
The cane waved once more, interrupting him. "Don't give me your cherry-picked examples. I know every decision the senate makes, intimately. There is nothing they do, or don't do, that I am not aware of." She looked her nephew in the eye, waiting. He held his tongue but began pacing in front of the fireplace.
Kindred turned to her granddaughter. "Do you trust your princess?"
"Of course."
"Will she still be trusted tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"And in a thousand years? Ten thousand?" Kindred waved her cane in circles at the ceiling. "Only the stars know how long she will live. Will she always have the people's trust? Can you be sure she will never succumb to darkness, as did her sister—in all that time to come?" She paused. "Do you trust Luna as much?"
"Well... Yes."
Kindred nodded slowly. "You hesitated. You trust her now, even if you could not have trusted her then. Time changes everything. I'm old—I know this well. And Celestia is far older than I."
Her nephew tried again. "The veto doesn't have to be made permanent, just until we get through this time of crisis."
She shook her head. "It matters not, in the hearts of those under her rule. What can be done once, can be done again, and so becomes forever a possibility." Her nephew shook his head and turned back to the fire. "What you don't understand is that she has your trust because she does not control you. Grant her that control, and that trust will be lost. Forever."
Growling in frustration, her nephew turned towards her. "That makes no sense! Why can't you see that what we are trying to do is for the good of Equestria. We're not going to stop trusting the princess just because she shakes some sense into the senate."
"No," Kindred said simply, "the citizens will stop trusting her because she will have become a tyrant."
"Grandmother! Celestia would never—"
"Come on, cousin. We're wasting our time. Auntie is right about one thing—time changes everything." He looked back at Kindred over his shoulder. "Even the most loyal dog can turn on its master—in time."
Her nephew stormed out the door.
After a moment, her granddaughter started to follow, but she stopped halfway to the door and turned. "Grandmother, I—" She sighed. "I don't understand."
Kindred looked calmly back and said, "I have given you my words. They are all I have to give you in this matter. If you do not throw them heedlessly away, I am confident you will reach the correct conclusion—in time."
After a silent pause, her granddaughter left as well.
Kindred stared at the closed door. Then she laid her cane across her lap and closed her eyes. She heard the other door open, and light hoofsteps crossed the room to stop next to her.
"How much did you hear?" Kindred asked with her eyes still closed.
"Enough."
Kindred opened her eyes and nodded, turning her gaze towards the fire. "The movement will grow, you know. You heard my nephew. He will have no trouble rallying others to his cause in this political climate. They will end up forcing an official statement, and that will be disastrous whether the proposal is accepted or declined."
"It will be declined. It must be."
"I know it must, and I told them why. But even declining, officially, will do harm. It only moves the control one step back—it does not negate it. Once the veto is offered, the control is in place, whether it is used or not, accepted or not. This cannot be allowed to go that far!"
"I think your conversation with them has made all the difference."
"Ha! My nephew hasn't changed his mind, and won't. He is far too invested in this fool notion to ever give it up easily—if at all."
"Your granddaughter?"
"Hm." Kindred pursed her lips. "There's some small hope yet for her."
"You don't do her justice. She reminds me of you, in your youth."
Kindred smiled wistfully. "She does at that. I remember having the same headstrong conviction driving me onward. I wanted to change the world for the better."
"And you did."
They were silent for a while, then Kindred said, "I think, if I can speak to her alone once more, I can get her to see the bigger truths that drive the world. She's close to understanding now, but her naive optimism works against her."
"I'm sure you will succeed."
Kindred grunted."If I do, it will only create another problem. If she comes around and opposes the plan, it will drive a wedge between them. There will be conflict, and, as they are the leaders of the movement, that conflict will spread like wildfire."
"You underestimate their friendship. I have every confidence that their bond is stronger than their political ideologies. They will come to an agreement."
"Ah, but on which side?"
"They are your kin, and they are bonded to you just as tightly as they are to each other. Don't worry." She rose to leave.
"Princess..."
Celestia paused, her mane flowing in the still air. "Yes, Kindred?"
"I worry." Kindred looked down at her hooves and saw the wrinkles and age spots she knew so well. "I worry that this problem, or one like it, will arise again one day, and I—I won't be here to help you."
Kindred was surprised as Celestia's hoof gently covered her own. She looked up into the face that hadn't changed a bit since Kindred was a young idealistic filly.
Celestia said, "You are my dear friend and my most trusted and loyal advisor. It would not do to let you worry. Would you feel better if you took on an apprentice? Perhaps someone young—with plenty of headstrong conviction?"
A smile slowly spread across Kindred's face, and a twinkle came to her eyes. "Yes," she said softly. "I think she'll find it very satisfying."
Kindred gazed up at her beloved princess. "I know she will."
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