Work To Do
by Summer
'Mayor of Ponyville' was an easy job.
Or it had been, anyway, for a while. Then Twilight came, and things changed.
She wouldn't say for the worse. Quite the opposite, in fact. Working hoof in hoof with Princess Celestia's former protege had been in no small part an honor, but more than that an experience, and a joy.
The early times had their ups and downs. She came from the city, and carried with her certain presumptions about how townsfolk operated. Nopony who'd been there could forget the disaster of her first year's Winter Wrap-up, and nopony since could escape the tale. The legacy of Princess Twilight Sparkle ensured it.
Even now, after all these years, Mayor Mare found it difficult to believe in reality. Her town - her little village - had become almost overnight the center of Equestrian history.
She yawned, turning over in bed to stand on four shaky legs. They creaked in protest, jutting old bones crackling like lumber at Hearth's Warming Eve, still cold despite the evening spent under thick woolen sheets. With a quiet groan she parted the curtains and allowed dawn's pale gold fingers to creep through the latticed wood shutters.
She peered through them past sagging eyes. She counted the seconds, one by one, until her vision adjusted, and drew in a breath when it did.
Ponyville had grown in the decades since Twilight took the throne. Yet, it had never bulged beyond its capacity. With its contemporary reputation, she had feared initially it might swell to some unseemly beast of a metropolis, sprouting towers and spires around the crystal blue palace left behind.
It was, in part, thanks to Twilight that hadn't happened. Cutting backroom deals and favors didn't appeal to either of them, but politics was politics. Some might call it shifty, weaselly, worse things, but if it meant preserving the traditions of her town she'd take on all those points and more.
It came at a price, of course. Equestria never had a poor economy, but the new administration demanded a new age. That meant new systems, new buildings, new agencies, and new trades. It meant Governors, and paperwork, and bureaucracy.
The Apples kept the farm family-run, but expanded their business to ship across the country. The Riches, led by Diamond Tiara, dug their snouts in all sorts of new pies, the most local a booming tourism industry. Rarity shifted her headquarters to Carousel Boutique. Reconstruction and endorsement brought back to life a larger, stronger Golden Oaks, open to all and boasting the second largest arcane academy in the nation. Like Celestia's old school, it no longer required the student be a unicorn.
As the old saying went - everything changes, and everything stays the same.
Mayor Mare sighed, affixing her collar. She still had work to do.
She yawned into the bathroom, stumbling at her sink. The splash of soap and cold water did little more than give her chills.
How much longer could she do this? She asked herself that question every week. Lately, it had been every day.
She didn't need dye to keep her hair gray anymore. The last few strands of pink had gone in the past month. Walking was slower. Talking was slower. Yet, like a curse, her mind remained sharp as ever.
Ponyville would continue electing her if they could. Sun knew, they would. Not if she stepped down, though.
But she still had work to do.
Mayor Mare tottered beside her latest assistant. She came fresh into government off adulthood, so wide-eyed and full of energy that even her librarian's glasses couldn't affect the perception of her age. The Pie-esque pep in her step made it a struggle to keep pace.
They wound along Ponyville's paths, between the thatch-roof homes and fresh street signage. February's snow crunched beneath their hooves, and her own boots. Those, a scarf, and sweater protected her from the bitter cold, what in youth had been a pleasant chill.
"I mean look at this plan, Misses Mare. They have the money, Pinkie's ready - eager, actually - to sponsor them. They already have ties to the Apples. Tiara's Tourism has been wanting to utilize Sugarcube Corner for ages, and Princess Celestia has stopped by several times back in the old days! I don't know how you'd feel, but I think the Cake Twins have an impeccable plan right here. Just imagine the new tax dollars and social programs!"
Mayor Mare heard her, without really hearing her. Her mind split in half, one straining to stay in the present, the other firmly planted in her past.
How many assistants had she gone through now, anyway? Three? Four? Or was this number five?
She kept telling herself she'd step down, call for an open election. The town hall and the new Equestria had more than enough young souls champing at the bit to make the world a better place.
She kept saying no. She kept telling herself she still had work to do. When - if - the world gave her a sign, then maybe she'd consider. Until then, she wouldn't quit until her job was done.
"Misses Mare? Misses Mare?"
She blinked, still moving forward. "Oh, yes. Right. I think that's a lovely plan."
Smiling feebly, she didn't see the upturned stone when she tripped.
The monitor beeped, slow enough she couldn't deny what it meant anymore.
For days, ponies and griffons and kirin flittered in and out of her tiny room. She tried to remember their names, but found herself failing.
Her assistant came. So did Redheart, retired for at least eleven years now. Others, too - the foals she'd seen grow into adults, the adults she watched age alongside her.
Pinklace - Redheart's daughter, and her primary doctor - broke the news. Mayor Mare had expected it, and that was okay.
A wet cough wracked her chest as she tried to sit up in bed. Her hip screamed, and she slumped back, unconscious for half a moment.
"I'd like to be home, if that's alright."
Pinklace nodded, and they prepared her to leave that afternoon.
She still had work to do.
She probably should have specified that, by home, she didn't mean her actual home. They were confused at first, but listened to her request. There was no point in denying her now, anyway.
She laid flat on her back, tucked under a mountain of heat-enchanted blankets. It soothed the pain, pushing it into the pleasant background like citizens outside on busy weekend days. On this quiet weekend day, they gathered here.
"Are you sure, Misses Mare?" Her assistant held her hoof, glancing at the small crowd behind her. They came to hear her last address, even if it was in the cramped, dusty attic of Ponyville's town hall. She had fallen asleep in this place far too many evenings to count.
"I'm certain." She nodded at the rest. "Someone has to take up the torch, and I'm not one for succession."
It's why she always called for elections, even when nopony wanted to run against her. That was her life's work. Giving a voice and a lending hoof to the ponies of her beloved, cherished little town.
After, they came to her, one by one. She listened to their stories and gratitude as best she could, but consciousness slipped in and out of her grasp. Among them she recognized dozens, and secretly mourned for the ones who hadn't made it along the way - Granny Smith, Filthy Rich, Pear Butter and Bright Mac, Carrot Cake.
Twilight was last. They said nothing to each other. They didn't need to. Not until Mayor Mare closed her eyes, and felt the pace of her heart stretch and slow.
"Thank you," she whispered, and allowed the alicorn's wing to hold her limp hoof aloft. She marveled at its size, picturing in her mind the peculiar, bookish unicorn who changed her town generations back. "And remember."
She winked, grinning. "You still have work to do."
Or it had been, anyway, for a while. Then Twilight came, and things changed.
She wouldn't say for the worse. Quite the opposite, in fact. Working hoof in hoof with Princess Celestia's former protege had been in no small part an honor, but more than that an experience, and a joy.
The early times had their ups and downs. She came from the city, and carried with her certain presumptions about how townsfolk operated. Nopony who'd been there could forget the disaster of her first year's Winter Wrap-up, and nopony since could escape the tale. The legacy of Princess Twilight Sparkle ensured it.
Even now, after all these years, Mayor Mare found it difficult to believe in reality. Her town - her little village - had become almost overnight the center of Equestrian history.
She yawned, turning over in bed to stand on four shaky legs. They creaked in protest, jutting old bones crackling like lumber at Hearth's Warming Eve, still cold despite the evening spent under thick woolen sheets. With a quiet groan she parted the curtains and allowed dawn's pale gold fingers to creep through the latticed wood shutters.
She peered through them past sagging eyes. She counted the seconds, one by one, until her vision adjusted, and drew in a breath when it did.
Ponyville had grown in the decades since Twilight took the throne. Yet, it had never bulged beyond its capacity. With its contemporary reputation, she had feared initially it might swell to some unseemly beast of a metropolis, sprouting towers and spires around the crystal blue palace left behind.
It was, in part, thanks to Twilight that hadn't happened. Cutting backroom deals and favors didn't appeal to either of them, but politics was politics. Some might call it shifty, weaselly, worse things, but if it meant preserving the traditions of her town she'd take on all those points and more.
It came at a price, of course. Equestria never had a poor economy, but the new administration demanded a new age. That meant new systems, new buildings, new agencies, and new trades. It meant Governors, and paperwork, and bureaucracy.
The Apples kept the farm family-run, but expanded their business to ship across the country. The Riches, led by Diamond Tiara, dug their snouts in all sorts of new pies, the most local a booming tourism industry. Rarity shifted her headquarters to Carousel Boutique. Reconstruction and endorsement brought back to life a larger, stronger Golden Oaks, open to all and boasting the second largest arcane academy in the nation. Like Celestia's old school, it no longer required the student be a unicorn.
As the old saying went - everything changes, and everything stays the same.
Mayor Mare sighed, affixing her collar. She still had work to do.
She yawned into the bathroom, stumbling at her sink. The splash of soap and cold water did little more than give her chills.
How much longer could she do this? She asked herself that question every week. Lately, it had been every day.
She didn't need dye to keep her hair gray anymore. The last few strands of pink had gone in the past month. Walking was slower. Talking was slower. Yet, like a curse, her mind remained sharp as ever.
Ponyville would continue electing her if they could. Sun knew, they would. Not if she stepped down, though.
But she still had work to do.
Mayor Mare tottered beside her latest assistant. She came fresh into government off adulthood, so wide-eyed and full of energy that even her librarian's glasses couldn't affect the perception of her age. The Pie-esque pep in her step made it a struggle to keep pace.
They wound along Ponyville's paths, between the thatch-roof homes and fresh street signage. February's snow crunched beneath their hooves, and her own boots. Those, a scarf, and sweater protected her from the bitter cold, what in youth had been a pleasant chill.
"I mean look at this plan, Misses Mare. They have the money, Pinkie's ready - eager, actually - to sponsor them. They already have ties to the Apples. Tiara's Tourism has been wanting to utilize Sugarcube Corner for ages, and Princess Celestia has stopped by several times back in the old days! I don't know how you'd feel, but I think the Cake Twins have an impeccable plan right here. Just imagine the new tax dollars and social programs!"
Mayor Mare heard her, without really hearing her. Her mind split in half, one straining to stay in the present, the other firmly planted in her past.
How many assistants had she gone through now, anyway? Three? Four? Or was this number five?
She kept telling herself she'd step down, call for an open election. The town hall and the new Equestria had more than enough young souls champing at the bit to make the world a better place.
She kept saying no. She kept telling herself she still had work to do. When - if - the world gave her a sign, then maybe she'd consider. Until then, she wouldn't quit until her job was done.
"Misses Mare? Misses Mare?"
She blinked, still moving forward. "Oh, yes. Right. I think that's a lovely plan."
Smiling feebly, she didn't see the upturned stone when she tripped.
The monitor beeped, slow enough she couldn't deny what it meant anymore.
For days, ponies and griffons and kirin flittered in and out of her tiny room. She tried to remember their names, but found herself failing.
Her assistant came. So did Redheart, retired for at least eleven years now. Others, too - the foals she'd seen grow into adults, the adults she watched age alongside her.
Pinklace - Redheart's daughter, and her primary doctor - broke the news. Mayor Mare had expected it, and that was okay.
A wet cough wracked her chest as she tried to sit up in bed. Her hip screamed, and she slumped back, unconscious for half a moment.
"I'd like to be home, if that's alright."
Pinklace nodded, and they prepared her to leave that afternoon.
She still had work to do.
She probably should have specified that, by home, she didn't mean her actual home. They were confused at first, but listened to her request. There was no point in denying her now, anyway.
She laid flat on her back, tucked under a mountain of heat-enchanted blankets. It soothed the pain, pushing it into the pleasant background like citizens outside on busy weekend days. On this quiet weekend day, they gathered here.
"Are you sure, Misses Mare?" Her assistant held her hoof, glancing at the small crowd behind her. They came to hear her last address, even if it was in the cramped, dusty attic of Ponyville's town hall. She had fallen asleep in this place far too many evenings to count.
"I'm certain." She nodded at the rest. "Someone has to take up the torch, and I'm not one for succession."
It's why she always called for elections, even when nopony wanted to run against her. That was her life's work. Giving a voice and a lending hoof to the ponies of her beloved, cherished little town.
After, they came to her, one by one. She listened to their stories and gratitude as best she could, but consciousness slipped in and out of her grasp. Among them she recognized dozens, and secretly mourned for the ones who hadn't made it along the way - Granny Smith, Filthy Rich, Pear Butter and Bright Mac, Carrot Cake.
Twilight was last. They said nothing to each other. They didn't need to. Not until Mayor Mare closed her eyes, and felt the pace of her heart stretch and slow.
"Thank you," she whispered, and allowed the alicorn's wing to hold her limp hoof aloft. She marveled at its size, picturing in her mind the peculiar, bookish unicorn who changed her town generations back. "And remember."
She winked, grinning. "You still have work to do."