Don’t be alone. It was the thing that went through Rosewater’s mind as she showered and dried herself. Over and over, Cloudy’s request from her win, and a promise Rosewater had made, to not be alone repeated in different variations, always in that sweet, dulcet whisper against her lips. It drove her to think as she considered what to do, staring in her bathroom mirror.

She couldn’t cross the river to be with her daughter, she couldn’t be so blatant about the frequency of her visits or it would seem that the negotiations should be moving faster than the pace they actually were: not at all. Or, rather, not in the direction she’d hinted at to Roseate.

She couldn’t go to Rosemary’s closest friends. They were too vulnerable to Roseate’s whimsy. Rosie Night would be worrying fiercely, but going to her would have to be something that the younger stallion Rosetide would have to do, and leave a note from Rosewater. Or from Rosemary. Or…

Cloudy’s lips touched hers again and whispered, don’t be alone.

Rosy Glass. She’d promised the mare she would visit as herself. But… Rose Petal had been there as well. She and her husband had a sizeable community on the edge of the city, closer to Rosewine Hill, almost at its base in fact.

And Petal was also facing less trade from the Palace. Not that the palace would have been much of their output, but her mother and sisters did like to drink and throw parties and gift wine to those amenable to the palace’s concerns. But also less trade on ships leaving port. She’d learned that much by going over shipping manifests and trying to find her own discounts for shipping her perfumes, far less spacious commodities.

There weren’t many other places in Merrie that could weather a storm of disapproval from Roseate. Ponies would still drink and the other wineries in Merrie couldn’t satisfy all of the demand. Not with Petal and the Garden of Love controlling the most productive hill in Merrie.

And the young mare had sent her multiple invitations to join them for tastings. Arriving without a specific invitation might be surprising, but the invitations had been sent.

And Rose Seed, her mate, had invested heavily in the villa and in upgrading the greenhouses spread out around the base of the hill. There was him to consider as well. A cousin she’d been more an aunt to, whom she’d had to leave alone after…

Don’t be alone.

After the duel. After Carnation was taken, she’d had Rosemary.

Don’t be alone.

Now…

I hear you, Cloudy.

Half an hour later, well before her usual time to leave, before she’d even managed to think about breakfast, Rosewater left her house and did not head towards her perfumery. Instead, she turned left instead of walking down the waterway, confounding the efforts of both the Damme spies and the Merrie in their attempts to stay abreast of her movements.

She didn’t even veil. There was little point to it anymore. Everything she had to do, almost everything, would be out in the open.

It was strange, and strangely liberating to be acknowledged by the common ponies she passed by, even if it was to look at her with a curious fear and trepidation that she would act like one of them or pretend she would be one of them.

I wish I could be more like you, she thought as she passed by so many shops that Rosemary would visit during her forays into town during the living of her normal life. Roseling’s store was still closed that early in the morning, but it was so very tempting to visit the mare and confess everything, to try and strike up a relationship again and make her periodic fancies of being only a friend less fanciful.

It still hurt to think that all she could do to give her some comfort was play a role, but she’d heard the whispers, the rumors, the mutterings about the smells a soapmaker brought with them.

Rosie’s was open, and Rosie herself was sitting outside, sipping her morning tea, a black import from Canterlot, according to Rosemary. The mare nodded to Rosewater, but didn’t smile.

She would have to talk to Rosie as soon as she could. She would have to find a way to get a message to all of Rosemary’s closest friends as soon as she could. She would have to ask Rosemary to write letters to them all. If she wasn’t already.

After seeing Rosie, she began seeing other places, other ponies, that she’d known and been friendly with before everything changed.

They were shops, haunts, and ponies she’d grown up with and were parts of her early life, seeming a lifetime ago.

They tugged at her attention, begging her to go inside and see how things had changed. Outside the few grocers she’d continued to frequent, there were a few mane and hoof care parlors where she’d have wiled away an afternoon talking and unloading the burdens of helping raise a rambunctious, adventurous young mare.

Don’t be alone.

Don’t let Roseate hurt them.

Both were imperative, and to her mind seemed still at odds.

She passed them by, offering only a longing look through open shutters at the goods and ponies inside. And every time she thought she might be free to go take a look, she caught sight of one of her tails out of the corner of her eye, a familiar face from past details that had confronted her on her front stoop, or waited for her in the cover of the cart station; Roseate’s goons were still following her, and would report on her activities.

By the time she reached the road that lead off from Market Row towards Rosewine Hill and the Sweetwine Tributary, the tails could no longer be subtle about their tailing and instead clustered in a group behind her, following her at a slow trot.

They would know where she was going by then. There wasn’t much past the Sweetwine Bridge but bits and pieces of the vineyard and the small village that had grown up over the centuries to support it.

It was a nearly autonomous place now, growing some of its own food and even had its own school and herbalist to care for the sick. Both were run by the same mare, a learned transplant from somewhere east of Canterlot.

Storage hovels that descended into the cool earth to keep the casks of wine steeping at the right temperature year round lined the side of a hill, the rows of doors and hunched roofs all marked with signs of the year of the wines inside.

The glass works, where most of the bottles were made by unicorns skilled at using the molds and sands that made up the finest bottles, lay along a small tributary to the river, several long, low canoes drawn up to the shallow docks where the sand was offloaded. A little farther upstream, the recycling building where emptied bottles of wine were returned for a few bits apiece and cleaned thoroughly sat silent like most of the buildings this early in the morning.

Only the glass works had smoke drifting from one of its chimneys, the fires to melt and purify sand into glass difficult to stir to life from a cold hearth.

They were all part of the Rosewine Vineyard, and most of the ponies that worked the vineyard and its myriad of supporting businesses were also a part of the community. The village was an eclectic collection of building styles and decorations, most of them Merrier inspired, but a few made of red brick and gray mortar surely from the deserts to the south, and a few faux-marble column entrances told of a Canterlotian influence, the sharply domed roofs faring well during the heavy winter snows.

This had been a second home for her once. A place where she could go and be with ponies that cared about her. Whether they still trusted her, or even knew of her, after all the years she’d been gone, and the years she’d spent drifting away as her responsibilities to Rosemary and Carnation kept pulling her away, she would have to find out.

The Villa itself had changed. Grown outward from the not-so-humble beginnings she remembered. All of it had the Merrie architecture on display: sharply framed roofs that offered good roosting places for pegasi and attic space for extra living space, and kept the snow from piling up too deeply.

The newest addition’s whitewashed outer walls and naked dark timber seemed like she could touch it and get white on her hoof. It hadn’t seen a first winter yet.

They’re expanding, despite the impacts. It made her decision to come here, out of all the places she might have found a friendly face, seem like the right one to make. They, if anypony, could weather Roseate’s disapproval, and Roseate couldn’t threaten much without angering an outsized portion of her populace.

The Garden of Love was so much more than a winery. It was a place for ponies to gather and greet each other, and they hosted more parties in a year than their next three rivals combined. They had reach in the community, and Roseate knew it.

That early in the morning, traffic was light, with only a few ponies to give her a cursory, curious look, then swinging wide of the known Roseate goons.

As she came closer, she saw more ponies setting about the tasks of a vineyard take notice of her and her entourage. A few stopped what they were doing to stare, and a pegasus tending to the offloading of a cart full of bottles in slotted crates whispered something to her companion and took off towards the main house.

She could imagine what was whispered, and what would be reported.

Her tails stopped at what might be considered the edge of the property and stared after her, muttering among themselves.

So. You’re not welcome. That was good to know, and put a smile on her face and an extra spring in her step.

Nopony tried to stop her until she reached the very center of the small suburb, and Rose Seed himself stepped out of the villa, his ears in a mostly relaxed posture, though his mate, following him closely, was much more contained and tense.

“Aunt Rosewater,” Seed said with a toss of his head. “Curious time to arrive, isn’t it? We’ve not even sat down for breakfast yet.”

Petal shot him a curious look, then nodded. “I thought she was your cousin.”

“She is. In joke.” He winked at Petal then grinned at Rosewater. “Been a while since I’ve seen you around here.”

“Two years, Rosewater,” Petal said, her voice less friendly, but not openly hostile. Bordering on accusatory. “It’s been Two years since I last saw a hair of yours around here.”

“I apologize for that. I thought…” Rosewater took a deep breath and started over, “I didn’t want you to come to harm after I defeated my mother in our duel. I didn’t want harm to come to anypony.” And yet… Roseling was only the most recent victim. She closed her eyes. Was this a mistake?

“Hey, hey, no.” Seed came closer and set a hoof to her shoulder. “I understand, really. But Budding was really upset you refused her offers of a place here, ‘Water. But then she got called away to business again before she could stage a foalnapping and drag you out by your hindlegs.” He grinned and nuzzled her neck. “I think maybe I should have.”

Rosewater drew a deep breath and nodded as Petal’s ears drooped. “Any family I was close to wasn’t safe. Now… I-I’m sorry, this was a mistake.” But she couldn’t back away. She was frozen, wanting this contact again, not wanting to hurt him more. A family member she’d loved. That she wanted to love again.

She tried to lift her hind leg, back away, but this contact. Gentle and comforting from Seed…

Family that loved her. She blinked rapidly, shaking her head slowly.

“Nonsense,” Seed said with a snort. “I’m not bound by her Way.” He backed up and nuzzled his mate. “Only way I’m gettin’ exiled is by fomenting revolution. She’s good ponies, Petal.”

“That’s well and good,” Petal said, eying Rosewater with a more cautious eye. That was a good sign. He was as carefree as ever, but she remained as cautious and analytical as ever. “But why now, Rosewater? Roseate isn’t pressuring you, is she?”

Blunt. To the point, and it would be considered rude were it not for the rumors flying around that could be interpreted to mark Rosewater as being in her mother’s bag again, and this an attempt to punish the Garden.

“Pet, that’s not—”

“Petal is right, Seed,” Rosewater said, raising a hoof and breaking in. “But…” Warning given. “My being here might put you at risk of Roseate retaliation.” What form that would take, Rosewater wasn’t certain. She was keenly aware of the eyes on her from the distant gang of Roseate’s goons, likely watching them through a scope and almost certainly questioning every pony that wandered by.

Petal considered her quietly, that fire still smouldering away in her squinted eyes and hinted at by her flat ears. “I still remember how distant you were at our wedding,” she said softly. “How you tried to keep from being seen to associate with any of us while Rosemary was… well, being Rosemary.”

“I was so happy for you. I didn’t want to make a scene, or… I—” Rosewater took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to let my dour mood sour your bonding day. Rosemary and I chose the gift we gave you.”

“It’s still on the mantelpiece in our room,” Petal said with a faint smile, then glanced at Seed. “Thank you for that. And for coming. It made Seed happy to see you for longer than a passing glance, even if you didn’t stay long past the reception.” She stepped aside. “Come in, Rosewater, and be welcome as a guest of the Garden of Love.”

“Come in and be welcome, Auntie,” Seed said, repeating the greeting and stepping aside for her as well.

The entry hall beyond the door was short and spacious, consisting of little more than a mudroom and hooks for cloaks before it opened into the spacious courtyard at the center of the villa, decorated all around with roses of every variety from the trellis climbing to bushes, all of them potted or hanging from hooks and carefully trimmed to keep them out of head-height for most ponies.

Rosewater, not being most ponies, had to duck under a loop of spiny, sweet-scented vine to enter the mudroom and knock the dust off her hooves before passing the curtain of glass beads, all of them the same shade as various wine bottles the hill produced.

A table was set up for breakfast, a billowing sheet of silk riding the breeze just over it, wafting the scent of the variety of roses all about and cleaning away the scent of the ponies already seated at the table in twos and threes. Even, she saw, a Prim.

He reacted to her as she’d expected he might, making a small squeak of fright and looking to Seed and Petal with a forlorn look crossing his ears. The other ponies stopped their conversations to watch, alerted by his squeak and direction of his stare.

Petal cleared her throat. “Everypony, I know it must be a surprise, but please welcome Rosewater. She’s come here seeking comfort and to not be alone. Please, I know what rumor has said about her, but do not treat her as rumor states. Treat her as she behaves.”

“As I would expect of any of you,” Seed said, raising his voice. “We all have our reasons for being here, and for being welcome here.” He directed his attention to the lone Prim at the table. “She’s Rosemary’s cousin more than she’s Roseate’s daughter. Remember that.”

A chorus of assent went up from around the table, and eyes both rosy and blue, Prim and Rose, met hers as she looked into each of the ten residents present. “Thank you,” she whispered.

I’m not going to be alone, Cloudy.

It was not the usual breakfast he was used to. Neither the location, nor the meal, nor the company. But it was more… comfortable. If odd.

Collar dabbed his lips after finishing his oatmeal and raisins, grown in Merrie, and took a sip of his apple juice, also grown, pressed, and sold by Merriers crossing the bridges to sell their wares to his people. The usual cold cereal grains weren’t present, nor was the usual cup of tea or scone to follow it up.

Cloudy, for an oddity, was wearing a scarf indoors and sat at his right at the small portable table, patted her lips with a napkin clipped about a foreleg and checked the scarf for dribblings before she met his eyes. “Thank you for listening, Collar,” she said, tapping his ankle lightly. “Isn’t this cozy?”

“It is,” he agreed, looking across the table at the third guest at the table, Rosemary. “I hope the fare is to your liking. I was told by reliable sources this is a fairly common Merrie breakfast.”

“It is,” Rosemary said, grinning as she stuck out her tongue at him. “But I am curious as to why Cloudy would suggest breakfast here, and with a privacy shield up the entire time.” Her eyes twinkled, telling Collar she knew exactly why, and was teasing him. “Did you have a good night, Cloudy? I didn’t get to see you off.” Her eyes trailed to the scarf, and a slow inhale told Collar more about the origins of the scarf than supposition did.

A gift from Rosewater. Collar glanced at Cloudy, who looked entirely too serene. “How did it go last night? You got in after I was already asleep.”

“Rosewater was… well, it was an intense chase to start, then… I executed my plan to lure her out of the city where we could talk.” Cloudy glanced at Rosemary, took a deep breath and went over the chase in brief until she got to the end. “She lost, but it was close.” her eyes unfocused for a long moment, her hoof stroking a tassel resting against her breast. “You can still smell what she did, right, Rosemary?”

Rosemary leaned over to bury her nose in different parts of the garment, breathing deeply and pulling back after each to breath through her mouth for several seconds. “Very faintly. It’s Damme, Collar. She captured Damme’s fall essence in the scarf along with a strong hint of her.” She looked into Cloudy’s eyes, an exchange of information passing between two natives of the scented city.

Collar let his eyes drift closed as he took in a breath, but found nothing he hadn’t already been aware of. “Maybe I’m not—”

Rosemary’s magic seized the scarf and tucked it under his nose but no more.

Clean air with a hint of salt, wood shavings and pastries baking, the last vestiges of magnolias in their final bloom of the season.

“She toyed with me,” Cloudy murmured, drawing the scarf back and burying her nose in it. “Not to tease me, but for this. I wondered why she’d gone to so many places and risked discovery. I think she planned this.”

“She plans a lot,” Rosemary muttered. “Sometimes, I think she plans too much. She keeps on saying she’s going without a plan, but…”

“But her planning, her gift…” She lifted the tasseled end, decorated with a cutie mark in silver. Rosewater’s cutie mark, hidden while the scarf was tucked close around her neck. He hadn’t even seen it when she pulled it on this morning. “She was gentle. Caring. Playful and a bit teasing.”

“She can be. She hasn’t been for a while, but I remember some of her romances, her attempts to reach out to friends again. She was positively giddy after a few.” Rosemary smiled brightly. To Collar, it seemed as though it strained. There was a but that came after.

But it never came. “I’m glad you wore it this morning, Cloudy,” Collar said gently. “It’s a beautiful scarf.”

He watched Cloudy’s expression shift from thoughtful to anguished to thoughtful again before settling on determined. “I had to make her promise not to be alone today.” She met his eyes, chewing her lip. “She fought against it, Collar, but she said she would hold to her promise. She will, won’t she, Rosemary?”

“She’s never broken a promise to me,” Rosemary murmured. “Even when I made her promise to go out and have fun.” She closed her eyes, looking away from both of them. “She was always happy for a few days. Before Roseate took it away from her.” Her lips moved briefly, but no words came out.

He could imagine. ‘I stopped asking.’

What has she suffered? All while believing she was in control? That couldn’t be true. Rosewater wasn’t that deluded. She had to know she was bowing to Roseate the entire time, all to protect what little happiness she had left that Roseate couldn’t take from her while clinging to the hope of justice farther down the line.

All she had was the ability to humiliate Roseate in a duel, an ability that cost her a piece of sanity each time she did so. And likely cost Roseate a piece as well. Spells that damaged target and taxed the mind that had drawn on them.

“She’s afraid,” Rosemary said quietly. “She’s afraid you’ll get hurt, or I will. Or Collar. Or she will. She hides it well, but she confides… confided in me.” She shook her head when Collar opened his mouth. “Let her open up to you naturally. She will, but be patient with her. She’s been hurt more than anypony deserves.”

Collar nodded slowly, staring into the empty oatmeal bowl. The scattered bits of cream and oats did nothing to offer him an answer or even an insight. Rosewater’s history, the side of her she hid from everyone but her daughter, all of it was messier and more convoluted than he would have dreamed four months ago. Stars, even a week ago.

“I want to go on a date with her again,” Cloudy said into the silence. “A chase, or something more Damme-like.” She coughed and blushed faintly. “That last might take some imagination.”

Rosemary bent her head nearly to the table. “What about the forest north of Damme? Everypony thinks it’s haunted at night, right?”

“Except for the logging crews,” Collar said, tipping his head. “And they’re almost done for the season. Agreement with the deerkin to not have ponies in their woods during their migration.”

“Will they mind if a few ponies have a romp in the woods?” Cloudy asked, raising a brow.

“I doubt it,” Collar replied, glancing aside at Rosemary.

“Cloudy and Rosewater were already in the forest last night.” Rosemary said, a small smile on her lips as Collar raised a brow. Cloudy hadn’t shared exactly where their ‘date’ had ended up. “It’s all over the scarf, in between the spots she protected.”

“That nose of yours can be scary,” Collar muttered. He tried, surreptitiously, to sniff his own shoulder and make it look like he was nipping an itch, only to catch Rosemary smirking at him and mouthing ‘strawberry’. He snorted and straightened.

“Regardless,” Rosemary said, sitting up straighter and seeming to settle into the role of matchmaker easily. “Think about it. It shouldn’t be a thicket in the forest this time. You need something more romantic, someplace more comfortable. There are empty logging houses in the north, right? Or maybe you can do something on the Merrie side this time. The Garden of Love can be circumspect, and they’re no friends of Roseate.”

“That’s a bit public,” Collar grunted. “Somepony will talk.”

Cloudy stiffened, then relaxed, smiling. “I think I might like an idea like that. Our next scheduled meeting with her is… when? Two, three days from now?” She glanced at Collar, brow raised.

“Three days. She’s going to come unescorted this time. Or try to. She doesn’t want to rely on the Royal Guard, Pink said.” That had been surprising to hear. “She, I think, wants to change Damme’s opinion of her.”

“She would have to if she wants to join us in a bond,” Cloudy said with a chuckle that faded as she considered. “I can’t imagine her first foray would be a pleasant one, but the banner will keep her safe, at least.”

“From assault,” Rosemary said with a grimace. “Not from being verbally abused.” She reached over the table to tap Collar’s shoulder. “You need to think about starting to spread the truth somewhere about thebattle.”

“I don’t like using rumor,” Collar grunted. “It has too much potential to get out of hoof.”

“It’s already out of hoof. The current rumor is that Rosewater tried to take you by force, but couldn’t, after you laid the smack on her mother and sisters.” Cloudy shook her head. “And that’s in the barracks.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Collar said with a snort. “Who would believe that?”

“Common ponies who’ve only heard her referred to as The Rose Terror,” Rosemary said quietly. “I’ve tried to correct every one that I’ve heard in Merrie, and none of my friends would dare use that name around me, but… they’re not the majority of Merrie, and Rosewater wasn’t exactly a socialite before, either. She had a few very good friends that she would spend time with, a few places she would frequent as a regular, and that’s it.”

“I’ve had to correct a few ponies in the barracks already.” Cloudy tipped her head to the side and hummed. “I think I might like to take the troops out for a night of beers at the Bilge.”

Collar sighed. “Why is it that someplace like the Bilge is the premier establishment for the Dammeguard?”

“Because the booze is cheap, plentiful, and watered down. Keeps our wits going a bit longer into the night.” Cloudy shot him a smirk and raised her brows. “What do you say, Collar? Come join us in the gutter, sniping rumors?”

“Pass. You have a good time, though.”

“Sure. Should I bring those Rosemary’s had her way with?” Cloudy asked with a grin, matched and broadened by Rosemary.

Collar rubbed at his eyes. “Ponies she has talked to, yes. But leave Stride here, okay? He had a traumatic enough experience during the battle. He can keep you company tonight, okay, Rosemary?”

“Mmm.” Rosemary bobbed her head once. “I was hoping to make love to Cloudy tonight, but in the interest of helping Rosewater’s next visit be hopefully less turbulent, then I will consent. He has the cutest blush.”

She wasn’t helping. “Don’t break him.”

“Of course not.” Rosemary’s smile faded. “I know what he saw, and what he endured, Collar. Cloudy told me. I won’t push him hard. But he needs to accept what I am to accept what our bond will mean, Collar. He needs to accept Cloudy, and he’ll need to eventually accept Rosewater.”

“Be gentle.” He rocked back his chair and stepped down.

“Cloudy can tell you. I’m always gentle,” Rosemary purred, shaping her lips around the last word, letting the tip of her tongue linger against her teeth. In the next instant, she was a chaste mare again, blinking innocently at him while he stared at her.

“If, um, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have some paperwork to do.” He left it as an open invitation for them to explore that heated look as he left, his groin warming sympathetically.

Rosemary was no slouch at the smouldering look. She could promise things with it without even trying to tell him what she might want.

He’d have to be careful around her.

The look Cloudy gave him was no less heated as he left. “Tonight?”

“Now,” she purred, following him with a slink to her step that promised he wouldn't be able to walk straight in a very short while.

He swallowed, but didn't object as she took the lead to his office, her tail swishing to flash him with a suggestive wink before falling again to cover herself.

The faint shiver that gripped Rosemary briefly drew his eye as she locked eyes with him, reminding him again that she would be his wife, too, if he went along with the compromise of Damme and Merrie mores.

Breakfast sat warm in her stomach, and the sweet grape preserves taking the place of the syrup had been a welcome and interesting addition to a fine, and talkative breakfast. And the warmth of a pony curled up against her barrel while Roselyn Dream told a story about the early days of Merrie and Damme, when the two cities were at peaceful loggerheads rather than war, was a perfect counter to the worry she’d felt on arrival.

That he was a Dammer was sweeter. Prim Dazzle was his name, the same pony who’d seemed so scared of her when she’d arrived. Now, in Merrie fashion, he was curled with her on a pile of pillows while just to her left Rose Seed was laying Petal on their broad couch.

To her right, a pegasus perhaps a few years younger than herself with the most beautiful plumage Rosewater had ever seen lay with her cheek against Rosewater’s neck and occasionally raised her muzzle to nip at her chin, then evading the kisses Rosewater tried to catch as repayment for the distraction.

She’d introduced herself as Rosie Bliss, Rosie Night’s older sister, and made herself comfortable at Rosewater’s side without much more than a how-do-you-do.

All around the table, eyes darted from Roselyn Dream’s performance where she took on every role of the play, to Rosewater. Most were curious, all of them knew exactly who she was, but none of them were angry, or anxious, though a few eyes strayed from her to Seed or Petal.

Bliss’s teasing play, it seemed, was more a foil for the onlookers, telling them without words that Rosewater was welcome. It wasn’t a serious attempt to flirt, but Rosewater had a part to play in that game as well. It was something she’d missed, licking and nipping another’s ears in play, as a payback for nips to her chin.

She was more reluctant to play the same games with Prim Dazzle, worried that he would take the wrong meaning from her toying, and he seemed content to let her rest her muzzle on his head as Roselyn reached the end of the first act of the play and came, not to any one of the onlookers that had tried to catch her attention, but to her, and sat on the edge of the stage, facing her forthrightly and showing off her dancer’s lithe body.

“What’d ya think?” she asked, crossing her legs in an almost Dammer-modest display, a sign she wasn’t interested in her that way.

“Beautiful and well told,” Rosewater said honestly, dipping her head genially and earning herself a lick from Bliss and a nip on the cheek. “You do well, Roselyn, and you dance from part to part so quickly it’s hard to notice there’s not more than one of you.”

Roselyn’s grin grew wider as she glanced at Bliss and winked. “Thank you. So… you’re Rosemary’s cousin. You’re prettier than I thought you’d be. And taller. How is she?”

She couldn’t stop the flinch, but recovered quickly. “She… seemed well when I saw her last.” It was the opportunity she’d been hoping for. “I can take a message to her, if you’d like. The next round of negotiations is in four days.” She bent to nuzzle Prim Dazzle’s ears. “That offer goes for any of her friends here. She needs to stay in touch with all of you. She misses you.” Her throat caught on the last sentence. I miss you.

Dazzle pushed himself up to kiss her muzzle. “I’ll write a letter.”

After Dazzle’s words, a wave of offers came to her from every corner of the table, heartfelt pledges to write letters, heartfelt offers to transcribe for others. It was overwhelming, the surge of support for her daughter’s plight.

Roselyn slipped from the stage and climbed the table to kiss her nose, then her cheeks. “Don’t cry, Rosewater,” she whispered, waving a hoof to call her closer for an embrace. “We all love her. And we all miss her.”

Petal rose and embraced her. “We do all love her,” she whispered.

Seed nuzzled her hindquarters and laid his cheek on her cutie mark. “And we know you miss her, too, and love her. I know how you and Carnation raised her, Rosewater. We’ll be happy to take you in, anytime. You don’t have to be alone.”

His simple offer, so close to Cloudy’s, sapped the strength holding her mask in place. She wept. Quietly at first, then more violently as more ponies came to her, nuzzling and touching her, welcoming her to a place that could be a home, was a home for so many. A place where love flowed free, and any who loved just as freely were welcome.

Six years of loss, heartache, and loneliness bled out of her as a dozen or more ponies gave her hope for the future. These were the heart of Merrie, and they offered their love even to her.

Even Dazzle kept his cheek pressed to hers, weeping with her, feeling her ache and loss and by the sharing lessening hers. It was the Principes, brought to wonderful life around her, embracing her, and letting her know how right it was.

It took her time, but she mastered herself again, sniffling and thanking each pony who touched her nose to nose with a whispered repetition of the core. Love many, live brightly.

When she managed to draw herself free of the ache, her mind clear and bright with the offered love instead of numb with it, she took a deep breath, taking in the scents of everypony present, of the moment offered and given. It was a different kind of love from Mother’s Kiss, but no less a potent one.

She locked the memory away and opened her eyes to find Roselyn still in front of her, one hoof cupped under her chin. “Thank you.”

The young mare smiled and kissed her on the lips, brief and chaste. “You’re welcome.”

It was such a gentle reminder of the Merrier idea of intimacy between friends that it hurt. This was what she’d been holding herself away from, the simple reminders that they weren’t alone, that intimacy was more than sex, more than emotion and presence, but an intertwining of interests.

She’d set aside her mask of indifference hours ago, but she could still feel the automatic response, almost a reflex, urging her to put it back on. But to hold it in place, here, seemed wrong. But it was comforting to wear, and not a little bit frightening thinking of the consequences of not wearing it in Merrie.

One day, I will smash this mask. “Friends of Rosemary,” she said, her voice rough.

Petal offered her her own glass of water from across the table. “Here, Rosewater.”

“Thank you.” She sipped and cleared her throat. “Friends of Rosemary,” she began again, “please, make any you know who are her friends aware of my offer. I extend it to any in Merrie or Damme.” The last, she said to another of the Prims across the table from her, a mare introduced to her as Prim Prism, the morning’s chef, and a Prim earth pony a few places down from her. “Any who love her, who miss her. My mailbox is open to all.”

She had planned only to tell those she could find who she knew loved Rosemary, not to have her friends at the Garden spread it to all of both cities. But they all loved her. Or were friends, at the very least. The fallout when Roseate found out would be unpredictable, but likely involve a complaint to the treaty office about a lack of progress in the negotiations and accusations of drawing them out needlessly.

“I like that,” Bliss whispered in her ear just before suckling the tip, a wing shifting to brush against her foreshoulder. “I don’t know how long you planned on staying today, but…” She craned her neck and kissed Rosewater on the lips, more than a touch of tongue caressing them.

Roselyn sat back on the stage, crossing her hooves, “If you wanted to stay today…” Her eyes darted from Bliss to Dazzle, a clear sign she was interested in something with them tonight. A something Rosewater was loathe to interrupt or get in the way of.

Dazzle licked under her muzzle and rose to suckle her other eartip. “We could see what else comes.”

It was tempting. Everything they were offering, and she returned Bliss’s kiss with a heat that surprised her, was tempting. But she touched each with a spell and shook her head slowly. “Thank you all, but I had not planned on overstaying. I have things, still, I must do today. But…”

She let herself feel the desire, let it rise up inside her and take its old place as she turned from Bliss to lick Dazzle’s lips, then kiss them as Bliss took over her ear. It was still there, and still under her control, but one day, and soon, she would be able to indulge herself. To feel the warmth of real flesh inside her, filling her as a faerie could not. To taste the come of another mare, to hear whimpering and grunts and groans as she plied the sweet sex and lips of another…

Bliss, if she was willing. Dazzle behind her, if he was.

They felt it from her, and responded, but with the restraint of Merriers knowing that pleasure could always come later, and let her go after seconds of holding her.

She ended the exploration of long-dormant lusts with another kiss from Bliss.

“Soon,” she whispered in the pegasus’s ear . “Soon, I promise.”

Some day… some day soon, maybe she could experience the same feelings with Collar.

Author's Note

Ahhh... and here we see the genesis of some of the main characters from Carapace's main story. Rosewine Petal and Rosethorn Seed are two of the main characters from his story. This is their first real appearance in my story.

(This is still before his story starts, but I'll let him manage that release)

A shorter chapter this week.