The Primrose War

You can do this, Rosewater told herself, standing just outside the Merrie treaty office with bulging saddlebags full of letters. You don’t need an escort.

The Treaty Pennant fluttered above her back, awkwardly tucked between the point of her hip and the saddlebag on her left. More than letters had been sent. Ponies had knocked on her door to give her small trinkets, books, a few cookies, and an entire pie she’d had to decline for lack of space to put it.

The response had been, and continued to be, overwhelming. The Garden’s ponies were well respected amongst the common pony, and their word had gone far in Rosemary’s name, though some ponies had also come to wonder at her wisdom of overtaking the negotiation process from Roseate, some with personal anecdotes of how Roseate had brought their sons and daughters back, ponies she had tried her best to reassure.

Even they had left letters behind, despite their trepidation over her negotiating skills. Some of those letters, including the ones from Rosie, Trestle, and Velvet, none of whom had been particularly keen on her taking over negotiations, rested in her bag. They were, thankfully, less enthused about the prospect of Roseate taking over.

She would have a chance, hopefully, to talk with them later. They were Rosemary’s closest friends.

She stopped at the edge of the bridge’s boundary into Damme, where it was still neutral territory.

The Dammeguard opposite her, always present whenever she so much as approached the middle of the Primrose Bridge, or any bridge, for that matter, gave her looks as sour as week old lemons left to rot.

She gave them a polite nod and reminded herself to smile. The mask would have to stay on for now, but there wasn’t a reason she couldn’t start to show that she was also a pony and not simply The Rose Terror. It was a pity none of them were ponies she knew.

Why does that have to stop you? The worn wide stones of the boundary marking the next step in her journey called to her, asked her to take the next step.

She caught a glimpse of Firelight Spark in the Damme Treaty office, looking out at her, surprised, but a quick shake of her head and he smiled back and relaxed.

“Good morning,” Rosewater called out as she stepped over the bridge boundary, an invisible barrier with no real meaning to her that nonetheless set her coat on edge as she passed it. “I was wondering if I might have your names, please.”

The three glanced at each other, then turned stoic looks back at her. One, with the ear band of a sergeant, stepped forward.

“You’re not welcome. Go to the palace, do your business, and leave.” He pointed to the left, along the main thoroughfare along the waterway.

“I’m trying to be courteous,” Rosewater said calmly, making a step towards the street. “Is it not courtesy to announce oneself on entry into another’s home?” She looked around and breathed in the air of Damme, refreshed from the river rushing so close. “Is this not your home?”

“It is common courtesy to not overstay an unwelcome greeting,” the sergeant shot back. “Go. I have orders not to harass you, but that doesn’t mean I have to talk to you.” He backed up and stoutly faced forward.

Neither the mare to his left, nor the stallion to his right gave her more than a hostile look.

Rosewater smiled, bowed her head, and said, “Good day to you, then.” She kept her ears pricked back, listening, and heard the sergeant muttering to his underlings, though inaudibly to her.

Ponies in the road took in her crimson-hearted breast, her streaked muzzle, and knew her immediately from that, if not from her height. But they made no move to stop her other than for some of the boldest to cast imprecations on her from a safe distance.

Rose Terror. Scent mage.

Husband stealer. Wife stealer.

The last two, she tried to find faces in the crowd for who’d shouted them, but everypony was maintaining a good ten foot pole distance away from her, as if her very presence was an offense to them. Angry stares followed her, but none of them wanted to repeat the insult when she was looking for the source.

It was an effort, but she bowed her head to the angry stares. Penitence. What can I tell you all? She continued on, her eyes closed for several seconds.

Carnation had been taken from her because she refused to steal a fiancee. She let the mask slip just enough to let the pain of that loss show. Her happiness had been stolen. How much can I say?

The answer was nothing. Not yet.

Bear it, but show it.

It was calculating but not, she hoped, cold.

Without the mask as tightly fit, she could see the individuals staring at her. A mother hiding her child, a brother stepping in front of his sister, a sister guiding her little brother away from her. She didn’t look for long, careful not to put more stress on them by her mystery and terror. She may have taken a brother, a sister, an aunt or uncle at one time. She had captured some ponies against their will, held them away from her mother, and returned them.

They had been safe, but terrified.

She would need to atone, and she would need to seek the forgiveness of those she had wronged. The orders would still be in her cupboard, the names of the ponies she’d been ordered to abduct.

That was the source of everything.

I should have resisted.

And been exiled eventually, despite the treaty strictures on exiling children in the line of succession.

Enough ‘treasonous’ acts would eventually rise to the level that even Celestia would have to side with the law in Merrie. Then she would have been taken away from Carnation and Rosemary. It had been her love, possibly forever, or a temporary fear. In a war, she had chosen what was, to her, the least of two possible evils.

They might not understand. But she had not harmed all, temporary or otherwise. And she would end the war. She would end the dozen a month at the height of the conflict that had been captured and treated like chess pieces. She would save them that terror. And she would walk among them.

In time, I will get to know you all and I will love you just as Collar does.

Time was the key. Time. It hurt to look at the fear in the faces of the ponies she passed, but time would show them changed, and one day, she would walk down these streets, and she would call to some by name and smile, and they would smile at her.

She let that thought, that hope take the place of the mask and raised her head to look up into the sky, let her smile, and the sun show her hope for a better future.

Looking up made her aware of the clouds moving in, though there was no scheduled rain for the day, even in Damme.

Cheers went up around her as the first raindrops fell only around her, but they were scattered, and not from every throat, and as many shouted at the sky as their days were interrupted by the sudden downpour.

She covered her saddlebags with her magic, but let the rain hit her, and let the cheers chase her as she walked calmly through the downpour to the castle. It wasn’t like a little rain was going to dampen the hope.

Some ponies, she noted through the intense, localized rainstorm, shook their heads at her and looked up. Those, she offered a smile to and a small bob and shake of her head.

At least it wasn’t a thunderstorm.

The storm clouds dissipated long before she got on the road to the palace, the clouds, small bursters, having run out of rain to pour on her within a few minutes, and the perpetrators left the sky clear again, letting the sun beat down on her and do a not terrible job of drying out her coat, even if her mane and tail were still soaked and dripping.

One of the guard ponies at the palace was one she knew, one of the ponies who’d been there at the battle at the end, whose name she didn’t know, but whose face was familiar. One of the Primlines.

“What happened?” The guard demanded, her blue eyes sharp as they flicked from spot to spot on her, noting the wet mane and tail, and the dry saddlebags. “And why are you here so early? I wasn’t told to expect you for another hour.” She glanced at the pennant, noting the distinct lack of escort, and pursed her lips.

“An unexpected downpour. Nothing to worry about,” Rosewater said, once again twisting her mane and leaning to the side to squeeze more of the cold water out of it. “My mail didn’t get wet, and that’s what’s important right now. Please let Lord Collar know that I am here to continue negotiations.”

“Sure.” She knocked on the guard shack’s door. “Glider, take over for me. I’m taking the Lady Rosewater up to the palace.”

“Huh?” A mare with a white shock of mane and dark blue coat stuck her head out to study Rosewater. “Plat, there’s no rain scheduled today, unless those… er...” She swallowed and shook her head. “Nevermind.”

“Being wet is something I’ve been before,” Rosewater said genially, smiling at the two mares and bobbing her head. “Please, Plat, was it?”

“Prim Platinum, my lady,” the mare said, raising a hoof to her plastron in a gesture of respect she hadn’t expected. “It’s an embarrassment to the city when an emissary of the Treaty is treated this way, regardless of our personal feelings for you.” She lowered her hoof and turned away, beckoning Rosewater to follow with a flick of her ear. “I need to let Lord Collar know.”

“I will defer to your judgment and his. I admit I feel the same about the way my mother is conducting business.” Rosewater shook her head and sped up her pace to walk abreast of Platinum. It was hardly a secret, but bandying it about so openly in Damme was certain to get back to her as ‘sympathizing with the enemy’ and make even more of a mess for her in the future. “I understand.”

Platinum studied her for a long stretch walking up the stairs to the palace’s proper entrance, then nodded as they passed the outer pair of guards. “Rosemary and Cloudy have both spoken well of you.” Her lips moved as if she wanted to say more, but she sighed and flattened her ears. “When we’ve talked.”

It’s been three days, Cloudy. Are you truly moving so quickly on my behalf?

A warm spark touched her cheeks as she considered the thought and the mare that inspired it. I should have listened to my heart and not my head before.

“What have they said about me?” Rosewater asked, leaning forward to try to meet Platinum’s eye more directly.

“Um.” Platinum coughed and flushed, turning away from the eye contact. “This way. There’s the Palace Guard bath to the right. You can dry up there, and I’ll keep an eye on your… mail.”

The daily visit from Collar was coming soon. She’d done everything shy of masturbating to clear her nerves of jitters. As nose-dead as he was, he could hardly miss the smell of a mare’s come so recently, no matter how Rosemary tried to hide it. Without breaking the promised taboo on scent magic aside from her infrequent, treasured moments with her mothers’ memories, that is. It was tempting, though, to let him walk in on her in the act.

But not so soon after getting to know him. He would be her most difficult enticement. Slow, gentle, and without using her own sex appeal and beauty to draw him in for an initial greeting. She would have to reverse her usual process.

She already knew, thanks to the night she’d shared her bed with Cloudy and he that she would enjoy his company far beyond the bed. He was attentive and adaptable, and truly did love Cloudy, even if his discomfort with Rosemary’s more overt sexuality had slowed him somewhat.

It was what Cloudy had needed, and she wasn’t about to apologize for making a few ‘crude’ jokes, as the Dammers called them, to comfort her.

She bustled about the three rooms granted to her, cleaning and tidying, adjusting her mane in the boudoir’s mirror several times, twisting it into a braid as Cloudy had said Rosewater had worn it, then letting it hang loose, then huffing and twisting it into a braid again with a fan of hair against her shoulder instead of a tight tail.

The small bookshelf full of books she’d read a dozen times already got reorganized, and she first tried setting the books all spine on the edge, then haphazard with edges against the back, then made sure the chess pieces were all polished and set just so.

When she started staring at her tail and considering what to do with it beyond the usual curling delicacy she favored, she stomped a hoof and told herself she was being not a little bit stir-crazy.

“Prim Stride,” she called, “is Lord Collar here yet?”

“No, m’lady,” he called back. “I apologize for his tardiness. It appears that there was some incident. The Rose—” He coughed. “The Lady Rosewater arrived earlier than anticipated.”

“Thank you, Stride, for not using that name,” she said with a sigh. “She’s early. She was supposed to come for lunch.” She tapped on the door. “Does that mean I get to come out? I swear, Stride, I need to get out of here.”

“Would you like to go to the public gardens? You have been there often of late.”

I want to see my mother! She calmed herself before she could shout it. A week. It’d only been a week of being a shut-in with only occasional forays outside her ‘cell.’ As nice as it was, it was still someplace she couldn’t leave without an escort. It was a place she couldn’t be free.

But that wasn’t Stride’s fault. It wasn’t Rosewater’s fault. It was hers for getting caught like the amateur she was.

“No. I would like to walk the upper floor racetrack if that would be alright.” I would like to walk and be seen and to see other ponies. Her small group of friends was growing. “I promise, I’ll stay close to you.”

“I think that would be okay.” He unlocked and opened the door, his eyes dancing away from her face and the heart on her breast. He was still uncomfortable around any Rosethorns, even after a week of on-and-off meeting with her and talking with her and spent most of his shift outside her door, despite her attempts to draw him in. “Did you sleep well?”

“You know I did. We had breakfast and discussed it together.” She huffed a sigh and flitted her tail at his shoulder. “At least tell me that my mane looks nice.”

His eyes darted to her mane, then back up to a spot above her head. “It’s very pretty.”

“Stride, I’m not going to bite if you look me in the eye. It’s polite.” She schooled her face to calm and looked at the end of his nose. “I promise.”

“I-I know, my lady.” He met her eyes briefly before his eyes fell to the marks on her muzzle, then looked away again, swallowing.

“Don’t push him too hard, Rosemary. He’s had a hard couple of weeks.” Collar said as he appeared in the doorway. “I’m afraid your… cousin will be delayed. There was an incident when she came unescorted, and she’s cleaning off now.”

“Is she okay?” Rosemary asked, turning away from Stride, to his immense relief.

“She’s fine, I promise. She was accosted by some delinquents determined to embarrass our city, but no harm came to her.” He glanced at Stride. “How is she doing?”

“I’m going stir-crazy,” Rosemary said sweetly, stepping between the two stallions. “Stride was going to take me for a walk around the upper level track so that I would be a little less stir-crazy.”

“Er, as she said, my lord,” Stride said with a flick of his ears when Rosemary looked at him. “We had breakfast together not an hour ago.”

“He was a perfect gentlestallion,” Rosemary said with a smile, backing away so she could see both of them at once again. “He didn’t even choke on his juice when I let it slip that Cloudy and I made plans to have sex tonight.”

“I was eating toast, and I most definitely choked,” Stride growled. “You can’t drop that on an unsuspecting stallion!”

Collar chuckled. “This must be what it’s like to have siblings in Merrie.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Rosemary said, ears dipping briefly. She regretted saying it immediately when Collar winced and opened his mouth to take it back. “No, no. It’s okay. I had plenty of friends with siblings. I know you didn’t have many close blood relatives either, growing up.”

“Something we have in common,” Collar said, smiling. “Shall we go for that walk, then? I believe Rosewater was going to dry herself off before we started negotiations. Dapper told me she made mention to Lace that she wanted to talk about your mother, too. Then he sent me here.” He tapped a hoof and chuckled.

Stride coughed. “About Rosemary’s mother? Carnation?”

“Yes.” Collar smiled. “Is it any wonder Rosewater would know so much about her? She and Carnation lived in the same house for… just shy of twenty years, Strides.” He cast a spell of silence around them as they started walking, making Rosemary’s heart freeze. “And Carnation and my mother were friends once.”

Rosemary resumed breathing and glared at Collar. “You scared me!”

“Sorry.”

“Why… why would that scare you?” Stride frowned at her. “Or is this another secret?”

“Roses keep secrets like rose bushes keep thorns,” Collar intoned. “Permit her some still, as there are some things we can’t risk letting out yet.”

“State secrets, aye sir.” Stride clapped a hoof to his plastron. “So, we don’t want Roseate to know that Lace and the… the Lady Rosewater have a connection? Wouldn’t she already know?”

“No. Lace and Carnation met before Rosewater was taken in by Carnation. Just before, from what I understand, and they maintained a loose connection over the years, but couldn’t talk often because of the war.” Collar constricted the silence field as a servant passed by, his eyes trailing along Rosemary’s face and neck briefly before he snapped his attention away. “She was, I think, a large part of the reason mother has been so adamant about continuing her reforms even in the face of the Manes and Feathers opposition.”

Stride looked about at the slight fuzzing field of the silence spell. “Definitely something we don’t want Roseate to know about.”

“Something we don’t want our ponies knowing about. Yet.” Collar bobbed his head. “I’m trusting you to keep this secret, Stride, but since you’re also Rosemary’s guard and… friend?” He glanced at Rosemary.

“I would like to think so,” she said, prancing ahead a few steps to look back into his eyes. “Even if he can’t look me in the eyes for more than a second at a time.” She fell back again. “He’s trying.”

“She is…” Stride pursed his lips as he looked askance at her, deliberately looking at her markings. “She is unique, Lord Collar. She is not at all what I would expect of a Rosethorn.”

“She was not brought up in the usual Rosethorn manner,” Collar said softly. “That she is different comes as no surprise.” He hesitated, then nodded to them. “I should go see how Rosewater’s doing. Keep her company, if you will, Stride, and out of trouble.”

Rosemary and Stride watched as he diverted his path back down the next staircase, the silence leaving with him and dropping as soon as he started descending.

“Trouble?” Stride asked, raising a brow.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” she replied, grinning and dipping her ears.

He huffed and twitched one ear to follow her for a few steps as they started the round at the end of the upper track, and she was able to see Collar disappear into a swinging door off to one side.

“Do you think of me as a friend, Stride?” Rosemary asked more quietly.

“Yes, Rosemary,” Stride said after only a brief pause to study her. “I think of you as a friend.” His ears ticked back sharply, then jerked quiveringly upright, but he only flushed and shook his head when she tried to meet his eyes. “You’re a good friend, I think.”

It was strange to see a Primfeather saying that about her, but he and his sister were, in so many ways, very different from their family. It might be that they were the youngest of the Primfeather’s family under Wing, but… it didn’t make his friendship any less meaningful.

“Thank you, Stride. That means a lot to me.”

Mane still damp, Rosewater shook herself and sniffed at her flank. The smell of rain was mostly still there, but the light touch of rose perfume she’d applied before setting out was also gone. It was more for Cloudy than for Collar in any case, but at least they hadn’t dropped anything smelly in the cloud.

They might not have had time to plan for anything like that. The next storm was in a few days, and the clouds were already gathering out to sea, so it hadn’t been hard to hijack one for the purpose.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Collar’s voice from the doorway into the outer bathing area startled her into a yelp. “Easy, easy… didn’t think I could sneak up on you.”

“It’s smelly in here,” Rosewater snorted and tossed her head, keeping faced away from him for the moment while she rubbed down her mane. “Too many unwashed bodies entered here recently.”

“It’s the staff baths,” Collar said, his voice sounding amused. “I’m not surprised it smells. They cleaned the palace top to bottom just yesterday.”

“I see.” Rosewater glanced behind her to see Collar keeping his eyes locked on a point on the wall to her side. As far away from her still damp tail as he could look and still keep her in sight. “I’m not going to flirt with you, Collar. Not when I’m on official business.”

He glanced at her, eyes darting from her face to her tail and back. “It’s appreciated.”

It was so tempting to flick her tail and let him see her bared, but that would be too much, and if she was being honest with herself, was partly driven by the excitement of having a hookup tomorrow night with Dazzle and Bliss.

Instead, she smiled and dipped her ears. “If you do find the ones that gave me a shower, please go easy on them. I’d rather not have official sanctions from the Prim Palace to fight against, too, on my way to repairing my reputation.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I have an inkling on who it was. They have a habit of raining on visitors they don’t like.” The strain in his voice told her quite a lot about whom that was. Or what their involvement meant. “And even if I wanted to throw the book at them, all I can do is write them a letter.”

“Speaking of letters,” Rosewater said, turning and tossing the towels into the nearest bin already full of them. “I have two saddlebags full of the most relevant letters, along with some care packages from friends. Nothing scented, I promise. That was checked at the bridge.”

For a moment, Collar looked uncertain, then nodded. “I had heard as much, and as odd as it may sound, I do trust you not to bring contraband. I know what these negotiations mean to you.”

Spoken in the open, likely with a servant near enough to overhear them, it was a large concession to her character. It shocked her enough that she lost the thread of the conversation she wanted to go along.

He grinned at her, bobbed his head and tipped an ear towards the door. “I believe that Rosemary is done taking her mental health walk by now, and we’ll be adjourning in my study this time.”

“Not your mother’s?”

“She is otherwise preoccupied today with the Damme physician.” He said it evenly, his eyes showing his unconcern. “She’s in her sixties and she’s conscientious of her health. It’s part of why she’s handing more off to me.”

Rosewater relaxed, not realizing she’d tensed up, and followed his invitation, then waited for him to lead her to his office. “Very smart of her. I hope all is well.”

Collar chuckled. “She’s made an effort to get more fit. She and my father have been giving each other ‘laps’ for ‘lapses’ in judgement. He’s made it a point to call her out as much as she calls him out.”

Is this what a functional family looks like? “It sounds…” Wonderful. Happy. What might have been if Roseate weren’t… Roseate. “It sounds like a dream, Collar.”

He startled and gave her a sharp, searching look, then relaxed. “I have to remind myself, sometimes, that not everypony has had the same supportive family I’ve had. I am… truly sorry for what you have been through.”

“It’s not your fault, so please don’t apologize. But… it is what I tried to give Rosemary. What Carnation and I tried to give her. A chance at normalcy.” She wished, again, that she could ask Carnation if she was doing the right things. She’d always looked to the older mare for guidance, and it’d been more than a small trial finding her way in the last six years. “Thank you for not punishing her more harshly for her actions.”

“She was an unwilling participant. As,” Collar said more softly, “I understand you are.”

Rosewater didn’t say anything to that, not in the open halls. Not with ponies watching them closely, their ears perked and following them. Word would get back to Roseate before long if she did, and as happy as she was to have Firelight’s backing, that was a support she didn’t expect and couldn’t hope to lean on.

Roseate had other ways of getting back at her.

Outside the office, a pony stood at attention with Rosewater’s saddlebags at her hooves.

“Prim Shine,” Collar said, tapping his hoof to his breast. “Thank you for taking care of her saddlebags.”

“Aye, my lord.” Shine clapped a hoof to his soft vest. “My lady,” he said, dipping his ears respectfully to Rosewater.

“Thank… you,” Rosewater said, nonplused. She hefted the bags from the ground with a spell. “Are you a friend of Rosemary’s?”

“Of Cloudy’s, my lady,” the stallion said. “Will you need my services further, my lord?”

“No, Shine. Thank you.” Collar glanced at Rosewater. “My lady?”

“No. Thank you though, er…” She glanced over his uniform, identifying him quickly as a corporal. “Corporal Shine. You do your city proud for your service.”

To her surprise, Shine smiled and saluted her briefly. “My thanks, my lady.”

Inside, Cloudy and Rosemary were already waiting, the latter studying the portraits of Collar’s parents and grandparents on the wall, and Cloudy sitting with her wing around the younger mare as she narrated a quiet story about her first meeting with Dapper.

“Good afternoon,” Rosewater said softly, startling neither mare, but making both sets of ears twitch toward her. It was good to see them together like that, Cloudy obviously smitten with Rosemary and the way Rosemary leaned back showing just the same. “My lord, if you would.”

As soon as sounds of the outside faded away, Cloudy and Rosemary turned around, both pairs of eyes on her saddlebag and the straining buckles containing the letters and parcels sent by friends and lovers alike over the last three days.

“I come bearing tidings from friends,” she said, nodding to Rosemary. But one letter, written in her own study…

The knock wasn’t unexpected after a day and a half of nearly nonstop taps against her mail slot door, but the repeated knock after the mail slot closed again was. Most ponies didn’t linger long when they dropped off their letters, and it was when Rosewater was preparing tea for lunch when it came.

She waited a moment, listening, and the knocking came a third time.

The tea wouldn’t be ready for another few minutes, but she replaced the lid on the oven in any case, letting the water stay warm instead of growing hot enough to boil, and made her way through the house to the front door.

Six more letters lay in the basket she’d placed there after the deluge started.

The knocking came again as she set hoof to the peephole and saw a middle-aged mare standing outside, letter still carried between her lips and looking about as if she were scared to be there. But determined.

She didn’t even need to ask who it was, the family resemblance was so strong. Cloudy’s mother. It had to be.

“Oh!” The mare hopped back a step when Rosewater opened the door. “Oh, you’re… taller than I thought you would be.”

Rosewater laughed and stepped back, bowing her head briefly. “I hear that quite often, Windrose.”

Using her first name surprised the mare again, and she blinked, her wings and ears flicking as she glanced around. “You… know who I am?”

“Of course. Please, come in,” Rosewater said, taking another step back. “I’m surprised to see you.”

“As am I,” Windrose said, smiling apologetically as she danced inside and glanced behind her at a few ponies that were drifting along the street, some watching, most minding their own business. “Stars above, you live so close to the river. How do you manage the mildew?”

“It is a constant battle against the forces of mold, but I manage,” Rosewater said with a smile as she closed the door and pushed silence against the walls. “It helps that Rosemary is accomplished at drying things out, and I’ve learned quite a lot from her.”

“M-maybe you can help me out, then. I’ve been having a terrible time with mildew this season…” Windrose licked her lips and glanced around the entry hall, then back to the closed door.

“It’s safe,” Rosewater said softly, tipping her head to the door. “I hardly expected visitors today, much less Cloudy’s mother.”

The naming of her daughter sparked something in the matron Rosewing, and she stood straighter. “Then you know her.”

“I do. Shallowly, as of yet, but what I have seen of her, and what she has shown me, is more than enough to tell me about the caliber of her upbringing.” Rosewater gestured to the side-door that led to the sitting room. “Please, make yourself at home. I was just setting tea for lunch.”

“And from your mother,” Rosewater said, holding out the simply signed and tied scroll. “She came to visit me yesterday, and we had tea and a talk about you before she wrote the letter.”

“About me.” Cloudy’s eyes darted from the scroll to Rosewater, then back again before she accepted it gingerly and tugged at the string with her teeth. She didn’t seem to notice the tears already starting to trail down her cheeks as she unrolled it, and Rosemary helped her keep it steady.

Collar sat beside Rosewater, glancing from his love to her, and nodded briefly. “Thank you. It means a lot to hear from her family.”

“You’re welcome, Collar.”

“That brings us to the next piece of business that I wanted to discuss with you, Rosewater,” Collar said, drawing out a scroll with the golden seal of the Treaty, already broken. “This isn’t for public consumption yet, but we asked for and received leave to delay the upcoming Gala.”

From Her Highness, Princess Celestia of Equestria,

I will grant the extension in preparation time for the Autumnal gala, considering the importance of the harvest and your added expenses incurred on security operations and wages for your militia.

This will not delay the Winter Gala to be held in Merrie, as they have incurred no such costs.

From the desk of Her Highness’s Royal Scribe, signed, attested, and witnessed,

Radiant Inkwell, second of his name.

“I… I see.” Rosewater had actually managed to forget about the gala in the last few days and weeks of madness. At least I have a chance to try and find a dress now. “I, um…”

“Forgot about the Gala,” Rosemary broke in when Rosewater’s voice faltered, ducking her head and smiling faintly at Cloudy. “She does that when she’s under a lot of stress. Forget about little details like the quarterly social.”

“Yes, I did, but I would have remembered in time.” Just not in time to find or get cleaned a dress fitting for her break with the traditional Rosethorn role.

Something… more modest than most Merriers would consider wearing, but still of Merrie.

Maybe… she could ask her sister for help. Silk was one of the more prominent seamstresses in Merrie, and skilled at her work.

“Rosewater?”

“Sorry.” Rosewater offered Collar a smile and nudged his shoulder lightly. “Just wondering where I could find a dress at this late of a date.”