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One thing that is interesting to note about Equestrian architecture is that, for well over a hundred years now, the generally accepted core principle has always been to find an effective and economic way to blend practical efficiency with simple, but effective and distinct, aesthetic pleasure. Of course, most common ponies don't ever notice this, and the ones that do often won't be able to tell you why their houses and businesses are built in such a way as to countain the most amount of things, in the smallest amount of space possible, all whilst maintaining the artistry that goes into interior and exterior design, but the reason is, infact, not incredibly complex.

You see, sometime before the turn of the last century, Canterlot experienced an unprecedented economic and population boom, due in large part to having succesfully expelled a multitude of seperatist dragon groups who had broken off from the Dragon Lands, due largely to idealogical dissatisfaction with the then current Dragon Lord, and had turned to raiding the Equestrian countryside whilst trying to maintain a presence outside of the Dragon Lord's sphere of influence. As Equestria's, and more specifically Canterlot's, economy and population began to grow due to the optimism generated in the Equestrian zeitgeist by the repulsion of the Dragon Raiders, as well as advancements in manufacturing, it started to become rapidly apparent to all but the most oblivious of nobles that the rate at which ponies were being entered into the workforce would soon be far outpacing the rate at which houses and apartments could be built for them to live in. Thus, many Small-Town Canterlot business owners began operating their businesses from within their own homes, in anticipation of the younger generation soon to swamp the country with consumers and providers.

Because of the Canterlot elite's insistance on only shopping in the most high-class, truely patrician establishments, many old and young entrepenuers decided that it would be best to decorate with and maintain a certain degree of aesthetic fidelity, whilst also being available at any time of day or night, should the need arise. This resulted in the first floor business, second floor living quarters model seen in Equestria today, as more and more ponies began demanding that their homes and businesses create a comprimise between efficiency and artistry, much like the Canterlot establishments they intended to emulate. Two generations after this trend appeared, it became the accepted norm for most local businesses, and is seen as the default configuration most commonly in the areas surrounding Canterlot, such as Ponyville.

Of course, when the Magical Friendship Box of Friendship created Twilight Sparkle's castle, it felt no need to conform to the efficient mindset of the average Equestrian citizen, and with it's blinding crystalline walls, and hallways stretching on for far longer distances than any reasonable pony would be willing to walk in this day and age, it plainly mocks the Equestrian architectural ideals of efficiency, utility, and aesthetic awareness. After all, with so many rooms, and so little idea as to what would be in those rooms, any self-respecting architect would fall to the ground in wild convulsions, as a seizure-inducing rage would cloud their minds, likely causing them to bite their tongues and grind it into a delicious, fleshy pulp, which they will likely proceed to choke on as the blood would fill their lungs, making them unable to breath, and causing suffocation and brain damage to set in, ultimately culminating in a severe case of extreme death.

Which is to say, Twilight's castle is so badly designed, it has become a genuine hazard to public health.

Of course, due to years and years spent carrying ink, cardboard, and solidified wood-pulp on his back in order to assist in creating the life of relative comfort which Twilight Sparkle lives, Spike has no issue navigating the castle's sprawling hallways and passages. His dragon body's natural structural fidelity, combined with years of hard physical and mental labour that would be, quite literally, back breaking to some ponies, has led to him being fully capable of walking from one end of the castle to the other at a relatively sedate pace. Of course, this endurance doesn't necassarily translate to great physical apptitude, but for the purposes of day to day servitude to a pony whom he deems to be a reasonable authority figure in his life for the majority of the time, his physical abilities are entirely adequite and reasonable.

Granted, being physically able to handle the castle, and being mentally ready to handle the castle, are entirely two different things, and while he does find himself getting lost much less than the average pony would, he still ocassionally finds himself in a bit of navigational trouble from time to time. Due to spending a large portion of his days wandering the many hallways of the crystal castle on small errands for Twilight, he is probably more familiar with it's layout than any other pony, or person, in the world. There is, of course, only one pony whom could rival his knowledge of the castle.

Starlight Glimmer is a strange pony. Much of her time is spent either wandering the halls of the crystal castle in search of no one thing in particular, or spending time with her small cluster of equally socially dysfunctional ponies in her own little kingdom of personality-impaired individuals. That is to say, she doesn't have a very extensive social life. She has friends, yes, but she often finds herself alone in the castle with Spike due to being the least, or most, busy of her friends at any one given point in time, and not having much aside from magic and books to pass the time with.

"Hey Starlight, which way is the kitchen, again?" Spike asks.

Starlight smiles pleasently at the little dragon whom she has found to be friendly and innocent, compared to what she has been told most dragons to be like, and points him in the direction that he needs to go. She watches as he walks away from where he was with a called-back "Thank you!", and she finds herself somewhat curious as to where the stigma against dragons come from, considering that the only dragon that she knows has been so consistantly pleasent and responsible, especially considering the fact that he is, supposedly, still a baby, biologically speaking.

Of course, she too has somewhere to be, and goes off to search for a strategically placed window or door so that she can leave the castle and see Trixie or Maud, filing the dragon research off for another time.