It wasn’t strange anymore to stand alone on the bridge and stare across the final few feet into Damme, but it was still tiring to see the distrustful faces standing across from her, their blue and purple regalia prim and proper.

At least Rosewater had come to know their names over the past weeks.

“Good morning, Sunflower,” she said affably to the stallion bearing his namesake on his flank. He would have been a gardener, she was certain, had events gone differently over the course of the war, and while he had not opened up—yet—his demeanor seemed ill-suited for the job of a guard. “It looks like it’s going to be a busy trading day today.”

He eyed her curiously, his expression betraying his wariness, then nodded after a long moment. “It’s supposed to rain tomorrow again. Ponies like to get their shopping done before the rains come.”

“And they have to wait in line to have their goods checked,” the pegasus next to him muttered. She didn’t look familiar, but the guards on bridge duty rotated frequently, with only the commanders of detachments staying for more than a few days. It kept the underground black and gray marketeers in both cities on their toes when trying to avoid taxes.

“Speaking of,” Rosewater said in a light tone “I have another batch of letters for Rosemary, as well as a gift for Lace to be inspected.”

“A gift for Lace?” Sunflower asked, his brows raising as Rosewater pulled out a caddy with four bottles settled into the wooden cradle. “Wine?”

“Brandy, actually.” It was the last four bottles of the thirty year old vintage that Carnation had gifted to Lace. After this, there would be no more. “To thank her for accepting my plea to negotiate directly for Rosemary’s herdgild instead of involving my mother.”

That earned her a curious look from the other ponies.

“You’re going to pay the herdgild directly?” One of the others asked. “Isn’t that, like… tens of thousands of bits? Normally?”

“It’s usually paid by taxation or reduction of taxation,” Rosewater said, nodding. “But the cost of buying a sentence is not insubstantial. To be honest, I lack the bits on hoof to directly pay the price, but… I am negotiating. With all that I have available to me.” That much was true, and that little tidbit would get back to her mother in any number of roundabout ways.

Not that she hadn’t already admitted as much in the mandated reporting to her, always submitted so far via letter rather than personally. The less she had to visit the Rose Palace, the better.

Sunflower inspected the bottles critically, then waved them aside and glanced over the mail, periodically checking the gemstone anklet for active warding magic or other things that would hint at a concealed nature or spell. “Are any of the items scented, contain components for scent-magery, or would be considered contraband to a prisoner of war?”

“No. They’re letters from her friends who miss her, and a family of her lovers that are expecting a child soon.” The Nights had sent one each week, keeping her apprised of Velvet’s condition and progress, including a picture postcard from an artist friend of the three of them in various poses, always with Velvet in the center. “They miss her greatly.”

The guards all gave her skeptical looks, but Sunflower grunted and nodded, writing down a few notes on a writ of declaration before tucking away his writing utensils in his shoulder saddle pouch and tore it off.

“Thank you, Sunflower.”

“It’s my duty,” he said gruffly, stepping back to stand with his fellows. “Be on your way, Lady Rosewater.”

At least they were treating her like a normal visitor now, albeit a high ranking one and a suspicious one, rather than an invader. Maybe she could avoid a rain shower this time and try to enjoy her walk to the palace.

Ponies eyed her warily, glanced at the treaty flag stuck in its holster at her shoulder, and ignored her. Word had apparently gotten around by now that she had a schedule to attend talks at the palace, and there weren’t too many ponies that were surprised or shocked by her appearance, though some did approach the ubiquitous Dammeguard, only to get a shaken head and a short, disapproving glance thrown her way.

None of them were happy to see her there, but they were becoming used to her after four visits to the palace.

She knew, also, to keep an eye on the sky.

So it was a fairly quiet, if disconcerting at times trek through Damme in the bright light of day, traversing streets again that she’d only trodden before as a young filly or in the dead of night and unable to appreciate the liveliness.

Now, without rain to dampen the spirits, it was easier to see the activity in the markets blooming, just like it did in Merrie.

Vendors cried the day’s sales, cajoled passers by with attempts to buy one more batch of bread, a vase that would go perfectly beside a door, flower petals ripe for a salad.

Carnation set her hoof to Rosewater’s shoulder, stopping her before she could dash to their favorite sweets vendor. “Just a few, ‘Water. Remember, we have dinner at the Garden tonight, and I don’t want you ruining your appetite.”

“Yes, aunt Carnation,” Rosewater murmured, fishing out her bits, checking the sign indicating the prices, and counting out three buckles for three pieces of candy. “Thank you, Miss Candymaker.”

“Have another, sweetling,” the older mare said, smiling and passing her another strawberry. “Don’t tell your mother.”

“She’s my aunt,” Rosewater said seriously, meeting the shopkeeper’s eyes. “Thank you, Miss Candymaker.”

Something passed behind the mare’s eyes that a younger Rosewater didn’t understand, and an older Rosewater couldn’t be sure she wasn’t projecting into the memory.

The strawberry wrapped ones would stain her tongue brighter pink, but if she had a lemon, it would mute the color. She took two of the strawberry and a lemon. The other, she passed to Carnation. “Thank you for taking me here.”

The look Carnation gave her was subtly sad, the same kind of sadness that she’d seen too often since her father had died. The same kind that she’d felt for months and months after. Wondering if the world would be right again. But slowly… ever so slowly, with Carnation’s care and the help of the Garden ponies, she’d come to see brightness in the world again.

But those looks…

Stars, how old was I? She had to have been only seven or eight. Still mourning her father. Still not a filly like the ones in the garden, so happy and full of life. While she read, practiced her magic, and occasionally got dragged out to play.

Maybe... if she’d not been as cloistered then, she might have been more like Rosemary—as normal and happy a filly could be with only two ‘parents.’

Maybe she could have found the guile and guts to actually reach out across the river if she’d not been terrified of losing Carnation if she did so. Maybe she could have found her love in a colt not a few months older than she.

A colt she barely knew, who barely knew her even now.

But… she had hope. After last night…

She smiled and hastened her pace.

Collar was waiting for her at the palace entrance with a guard she didn’t recognize, a pony with a medical talent apparently who was talking with him in low tones behind a privacy field. As she approached, both of them noticed her, and the muffled conversation ended quickly, with the medic giving a hasty salute and dashing past her… leaving in his wake a whiff of…

Glory.

Familiar and foreign at once, a sibling scent.

“My lady,” Collar said in genial tones, his smile seeming a touch more sincere than it had before. “I trust your journey was unaccosted by rain or storm?”

“It was a fresh, crisp fall day, and while it was hard to mistake the animosity, it reminded me somewhat of younger days when I and Carnation were free to wander the city under Roseline and your mother’s protection.”

Surprise colored his expression for only a moment before he stepped back and invited her in. “Her loss was truly heartbreaking for my mother. We were so close to an agreement, she said.” At her inquisitive look, Collar smiled and bobbed his head. “We’ve been talking some about the history of the city and how such things came to be.”

Something in his expression told more, a slight twitching of his lips into a semblance of a smile.

“What?”

He spread silence over them and backed up a step, asking her to follow him inside. “You smelled her on him, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. If he were in Merrie, it would be known across the city inside the hour.” Rosewater sniffed and shook her head. “And not a pony would give a hoot.”

His expression soured briefly, and he nodded, smile returning after a second’s hesitation. “I know.” The silence became real aside from their hooves on the carpet until the doors closed behind them and the closer air of the palace settled in around them, the dimmer light from the stained glass windows high above giving the place an evening feeling. “They’ve been seeing each other for months, I think. Secret lovers.”

“Glory has always been more mellow than my other sisters. Roseate never had as much hold over her because even when she was a teen, she could simply literally disappear from mother’s sight.” Rosewater shook her head and glanced at him. “You were going to say… something about the history of the war?”

“Actually, Lace wanted to talk to you about the history.” Collar’s tail swished and nearly touched her own.

A sign of familiarity, friendship even perhaps. It was an effort to resist the urge to meet swish with swish. But that might be overstepping her bounds with him. Last night had been companionable, friendly once she’d gotten past her nerves… but that much familiarity might be too much. In Damme, it was a sign of good friends, or more. The guards watching would certainly have something on their lips in the next minutes after they passed, and if she returned it…

“You seem distracted,” Collar murmured, nudging her shoulder lightly and pushing her to the left, towards Lace’s office. “Last night—”

“Was perfect,” Rosewater said hastily. “I know I was asking for a lot, expecting too much, maybe, but… it was enjoyable. To simply talk and let the war and romance slide away. I do want to get to know you, Collar. Whatever else happens, I know we’ll be working closely together.”

He gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher. Almost it was approval, but…

“I was glad to get to know you better, too,” Collar said after a moment, and stopped in front of Lace’s office door. “I want to go… on another date with you again, Rosewater.” His cheeks flushed even as he said it, and his ears flattened almost to his mane. “I mean, a get-to-know-you date. Soon. I want to share some of my favorite things with you, too.”

Her heart flopped and rose into her throat. “Of course. I would love to. When? And where?”

His hoof on the floor tapped once, twice, and he worried his lip. “It’s a little risky for you, but I know how to mitigate it, I think. It’s a place near where Rosetide would go, but you might need to ‘send him on a journey’ again. On the beach, there’s a place where you can watch the ships come into port and watch the bay. You can even see the far side and Rosewine hill from there.”

“I can do that,” Rosewater said immediately, already formulating the planned departure of Rosetide to match the day. “It’s close to the end of sailing season, though. I might not be able to use him clandestinely again until the spring. And I might have to send ‘Granny’ away to relatives.”

“You don’t have to. I know you can sneak around better than you let on.” Collar settled back and sat, a hoof to her ankle lightly telling her to calm down. “I know having a disguise makes you feel safer. You don’t have to dispose of it.”

Having Rosetide to fall back on did make her feel safer. She couldn’t go about town as him very much, or ponies would start to understand his patterns, and that she wasn’t around whenever he was. It was also harder to disappear for long periods of time during the day. Helping Petal and Seed plan out the future of the expansion outside the city was taking more time, and helping them plan for the Commoner’s Gala in Roseline park.

“No, no. It’s okay. I’ve been too busy lately to make judicious use of him. Getting out of the villa to the garden. I have to…” She waved a hoof vaguely towards the other wing of the palace where his chambers were. “Well, the place Cloudy and I had our last date isn’t just a tent. It’s going to be an offshoot of the Garden out in the countryside. I bought the land it’s on… or helped Petal buy the land. So…”

His ears flickered back and forth briefly at that. “I see. Well.” He coughed and looked aside. “I’m glad to hear you’re getting out more. How does four days from now sound? Is that enough time to arrange things?”

“It should be, yes.” Rosewater took a steadying breath. “Should I bring anything?”

“Just yourself. You brought everything last time, so it’s my turn this time.” Collar smiled more broadly, checked down the hall on either side, sighed and rose, dropping the sound shield at the same time. “I’ll be in my office when you’re done discussing the terms of the herdgild with my mother. As agreed, Rosemary will be there so you can talk with her about the evolving terms.”

“Thank you, Lord Collar,” Rosewater said cooly, slipping the mask of propriety back into place. Serving staff had come up the stairway and were eying the two of them standing so close. Whispers would come from that. Servants talked so much more than the guards did. “You have been most gracious with your time and attention.”

One ear flicked, but he held back the smile that twitched at his lips. “It helps that you have been attentive to your duties as negotiator, my lady.”

Rosemary stared at the door, her coat itching at the unfamiliarity of the office. She’d never thought being confined in a different room would cause her so much consternation, but without Cloudy there, and the possibility of a servant or guard opening the door and finding her, a prisoner, alone and unattended in the Lord Heir’s personal study.

But there she was, fretting that she’d get her few privileges taken away because she’d agreed to wait here. With letters just sitting on his desk. Their text facing upwards. Tempting her to know what they said.

It wasn’t even that she was normally inclined to snoop on friends’ mail, but having it there, and knowing she shouldn’t, and resolving not to only made the temptation to know what reports and letters he’d gotten had said. About her mother. About the situation in Merrie. About the Garden.

Whether any of that was actually there, she would never know. Because she wasn’t going to look.

She stared at the walls instead. At the paintings and portraits of ancestors and relatives, his parents prominent above the desk and more distantly related family arrayed out from there in a pattern she couldn’t quite follow the logic of.

They weren’t in order of relation, her lessons with Rosewater and Carnation about the lineage of the Primlines made that clear enough. Two second-removed older relatives were closer than his grandparents—who, to be fair, had been tyrants in their own time, though not so pervasively terrible as Roseate.

Tracing the order they were placed in in her mind only occupied her for a few minutes. Collar had said only that he was going to escort Rosewater from the palace front gate to Lace’s office. The reason she was meeting with Lace alone was… unknown. Even Collar had seemed baffled at the request from his mother to meet with her so. Not that she had anything to fear from Rosewater in such close quarters.

Lace had been a terror on the field of skirmish in her youth, her talent to negate magic in a small area powerful enough to inspire whispers she could have resisted Celestia herself. Save for the fact that pegasi could fly and drop rocks and other things on her and earth ponies magic was born into them and innate, unable to be suppressed by her talent.

She paced the office again, studiously avoiding the desk and its temptations of knowledge of the outside world that wasn’t filtered through Cloudy or Collar.

What could she want to discuss with Rosewater that couldn’t be discussed with me, too?

Another circuit, and this time she raised her head to get a low-angled look at the top papers. A report about Rosewater’s movements, it seemed like. She saw the words ‘garden’ and ‘daily’ before she ripped her eyes away and sat steadfastly in front of the small, barred window looking out over the north side of the rooftop.

The hills to the north dominated the view otherwise, the tall evergreens and deciduous trees blocking out all of the view to the north.

Cloudy had told her once that she could see clear to the peaks of the Crystal mountains from the clouds above, more than two hundred miles north of Damme, and could even make out the river of stone and crystal that had once been the great Imperial Way that led out of the north, now overgrown by trees, that passed not twenty miles east of Damme and angled sharply away, following the flow of the Merrie for some tens of miles before breaking and surging south across the shallowest ford.

What she wouldn’t give to have been born a pegasus and given free reign of the sky.

When the door creaked open some minutes later, Rosemary’s thoughts still caught up in dreams of diving and soaring with Cloudy on thermals free and away from the troubles of the ground-bound, she startled and realized nearly a quarter span of an hour had passed, the shadows on the rooftop tilted just enough to be noticeable.

“It’s a beautiful view,” Collar admitted as he closed the door. “I find myself staring north more and more as winter approaches.”

“Worried about the snowfall?” Rosemary asked, pulling her gaze away from the trees and the hills.

“That, and wondering how the Empire carved out such a grand nation out of the snowy north. I’ve seen the histories that survived the Fall. It was a place of surpassing beauty, and the Crystalwood groves there were more than oak and ash with crystal veins. They were their own species of tree, and their furniture a sight to behold.”

“It sounds like it was a lovely place to visit,” Rosemary offered uncertainly as she stepped away from the window and glanced pointedly at the desk. “I didn’t look.”

“I know. You’re a good mare, Rosemary.” Collar gave her a small smile and settled at his desk… then offered her the top page. “It’s not classified. It’s your mother’s movements over the last few days.”

“Since her date with Cloudy?” Rosemary asked softly, her ears twitching. Cloudy hadn’t told her much other than that they’d made love. In a way, it was strange to share a lover with her mother, but… not terribly so. Cloudy was halfway between them in age, or nearly so.

“She’s been spending a lot of time at the Garden,” Rosemary mused as she read it. “And not much time at home.”

“She’s even spent some nights there,” Collar said with a flick of one ear. “You’re familiar with the Garden’s residents, aren’t you?”

“Not as well as you might expect. I mean, yes, but… the last few years have been hard on my relationship with them.” Even with the pony she could call a brother. She’d seen Rosethorn Seed on and off over the past few months before her failed raid, but always shorter, afraid to get him and his business interests caught up in whatever happened to her—on either side of the river. “I still kept in touch with some of them, though.”

“Did you ever meet the Prim guards that migrated over the years?”

“I vaguely recall meeting Prism, but she was an early migrant. She still wanders back and forth to visit her parents, as I recall.”

“She does?” Collar tugged lightly on the paper and set it on the desk, making a notation that she read easily. “I’ll have to follow up on that.”

“They’re all there willingly,” Rosemary protested.

“I know that. You know that.” Collar shook his head and folded the paper, signed the outside and dribbled a little wax on it before sealing it and dropping it into a basket beside his desk. “But there are ponies here who think any Prim who wanders across the river to start up a life had to be taken.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“We have enough to keep track of without tracking down ex-members of the guard at every opportunity,” Collar said with a grunt as he settled into his chair and leaned against the back of it, one hind hoof down and resting on the floor, one foreleg curled over the back. A very casual and… open stance to take. It was hard to ignore the fullness of his sheath and the way his scrotum rested half-off the edge of the seat.

But she tried. It was like the letters. He wasn’t doing it to let her look but because it was comfortable. It was one of the only comfortable ways to sit in a chair like that, from her experience.

She’d even eaten Cloudy out while she sat just like that. Not to full orgasm, but a little light play before they’d settled in for an evening when Collar was working on reports and he might walk in at any moment.

Still… she was going to have a hard time not thinking about his display the next time she masturbated.

He didn’t seem to even notice as he went on, saying, “There’s some things that I want to discuss with your mother when she gets here. More freedoms for you. You, and Glory, have been model prisoners. I want to talk to both of you about having her moved to the palace under guard in the same manner as you.”

“Will I get to talk to her?”

“You will. You won’t be sharing rooms, of course, but as Glory has been languishing in prison for longer than is the norm for nobility under herdgild, we want to treat her more kindly than we have.” Collar waved a hoof and shifted his hind leg, drawing her attention back down automatically. Then he noticed and followed her gaze. “Stars above,” he squawked, and slid from the chair to a sitting position on the floor, his tail snapping around to give himself modesty.

“It’s alright,” Rosemary said lightly. “It was quite a lovely display.” She tried to smile to take some of the awkwardness out of the room.

He stared at her, ears flat to his mane for a long moment.

“What is it?” Rosemary asked. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, I assure you.” Except it’s his, a small voice told her, and you and Cloudy both have made your intentions clear that you’re going to marry. Which meant that she would be his wife, too, if they followed Merrie tradition.

Which meant that, given time, she might be expected to bear his children, too.

“I’ve been thinking about Frosty’s Law,” Rosemary said after a longer silence with him staring at her as if he’d just committed the worst faux pas ever. “Frosty wasn’t married to any of the stallions she called her lovers, and the law requires that the—”

Collar shook his head sharply, his ears rising briefly, then falling… and finally rising to give his attention to her. “It’s not that. Or not fully that. I know…” He shuffled and turned, keeping his hind legs close and his tail firmly wrapped around his hips. “There are more freedoms we’ll be giving you. Besides being able to visit with Glory more often, we’ll be granting you leave to visit the public garden more often with a guard who isn’t myself or Cloudy.”

“Two times a day? More?”

“Two times a day, for up to an hour at a time.” Collar’s tension gradually eased out him as he fished out another paper and passed it to her without looking at her. “And you’ll have the ability to write back to your friends. In the open, now, rather than having your mother sneak them out.”

“You knew about that?”

“Of course I knew about that. She told me, and I approved of it, so long as she didn’t bandy it about. The Treaty and our laws allow for prisoners to communicate with the outside world, Rosemary. We’re not monsters and we’re not going to keep you caged like a bird.” He glanced at her over his shoulder and smiled lopsidedly. “Cloudy would skin me if we tried, and then break you out herself.”

“She loves you dearly.”

“I know she does. And she loves you.” Collar’s lips moved more, but the words didn’t come, and he looked away from her again.

“She doesn’t love me more than you, Collar. That’s not how a relationship guided by the Principes works.” She raised a hoof and tugged on his ear with a spell. “Love is shared, not compared.”

“I know.” Collar’s ear twitched in the grasp of her weak spell and pulled free when he shook his head. “But I know the Principes backwards and forwards, Rosemary, and that’s not a quote from them.”

“It’s a quote from Rosethorn’s journal,” Rosemary replied with a broad, smug smile.

His ears twitched again, this time more in interest. “I wonder why such a salient quote never made it into the current version.”

“Because the current version is twisted by hundreds of years of bitter war, Collar.” Rosemary shook her head and resisted rolling her eyes. “Honestly. Did you know that Rosethorn writes about his friendship and his debates with Primline often in his journal? Primline’s wife was Rosethorn’s first cousin, you know.”

“I did know that, interestingly enough.” Collar’s wry tone and halfway halted roll of his eyes clearly said ‘I know my own family’s history, thank you.’

“And she died soon after giving birth to his son and heir. An infection, I think, according to what little I’ve been able to translate. Rosethorn goes on at length about it. It was a tragic event for both young villages.”

“But instead of draw them together, it drove them apart,” Collar finished for her. “The history of my family said that Rosethorn blamed Primline for her death.”

“He did. And he came to regret that later in life. But too late to tell Primline.” Rosemary took a breath and rose, coming a few steps closer and sitting again. “The entire war stems from that feud in larger and smaller ways. Two charismatic leaders hating each other into their twilight years. Rosethorn was so wise in some ways, but his journal clearly lays out his faults. He wasn’t perfect, Collar. And neither was Primline.”

“Though you have to admit, Rosethorn acted worse.”

“I do. Primline was grieving, and needed his friend, but in his grief Rosethorn rejected his friend for the loss of his cousin.” Rosemary edged closer still. “And that’s what kept the feud going. Year after year, both sides refusing to back away from grief. Grief that spilled into other venues and other families, into trade, morality… it’s so easy to see looking back.”

“Hindsight is the gift of the stars,” Collar said, quoting the Tussen Twee at her.

“Hindsight is the gift of the survivors,” Rosemary corrected him, replying with the same words from the Principes. “Don’t you see? We have a chance to end the bitterness. All of us. It’s happening even now. The common pony could care less about the nobility’s pride.”

“I know.” Collar let out a breath. “And I know… and I accept that you’re Cloudy’s lover. That you’re both in love. But… it’s hard, Rosemary, to accept it when all my life I’ve been expecting and looking for only one. I don’t know if I can love you like I love Cloudy. I don’t know if I can love Rosewater like that.”

“But you like us. We’re friends, right?”

“Stars, yes. I like talking with you. It’s refreshing to talk to you.” Collar rubbed his ankles together and leaned against his desk, still carefully keeping his tail in place. “But I don’t know if that will ever extend to passion, to romance, to love.”

“It doesn’t have to be immediately,” Rosemary murmured as she came closer. “But I think, Collar, that I could love you.”

“Cloudy said the same thing about your mother.” Collar didn’t move away, but couldn’t quite meet her eyes.

“I know.” Rosemary rested her cheek against his neck, not romantic but… “It’s a saying. Love is never certain, Collar. Could. Maybe.” She let out a breath and leaned into him. “If you need to talk, you know I am always willing to listen.”

“I know.” He tucked his head over her neck and held her close for a moment, then drew back. “Thank you.”

“Just the right amount of sweet and heat.”

Rosewater agreed as she set her glass down, feeling the brandy burning down her throat, the sweet flavor of it combining with the burning feeling mingling on her tongue and in her nose. “I’ve never known the Rosewine brand to produce an ill vintage, my lady.”

“That they haven’t,” Lace said with a laugh as she settled her glass down again, then hesitated and glanced at the door. “My husband was going to join us later, but…” The cheer fled her voice and smile. “I wanted a moment with you alone, Rosewater.”

Tension settled about Rosewater like a heavy fog, chills prickling her skin. “Why, my lady?”

“Use my name, please. You’ve proven yourself trustworthy and kind-hearted enough to earn that from me. At least here in private.” The older mare paused once again and then opened a drawer on her desk, drawing out a bound book, the edges she could see of the paper rumpled and worn from use and age. She kept her hoof over the cover. “Your… aunt gave this to me nearly eight years ago and asked that I keep it safe until the time was right and not to open it. I have kept the latter promise up until a week ago.”

What did you want to hide, Carnation? Why couldn’t you give it to me? Rosewater swallowed back the instant questions, her throat thick with a sudden ache. “W-why would… she give it to you?”

“She was an agent of mine,” Lace said cooly, as if the revelation wasn’t earth-shaking. “For many years. Your mother suspected, of course, and I suspect that’s the reason she was eventually exiled, even if she couldn’t find concrete proof of her duplicity.”

Pieces started clicking into place, missing nights when she’d had to care for Rosemary alone while Carnation was on ‘missions’ for Roseate. They couldn’t all be Carnation running interference, though. Not nearly all.

Her eyes fixed on the book again. “Is that her ledger?” She had a similar book, containing all of the orders Roseate had ever given her. A proof against accusations of treason, and perhaps even a way out if she were ever captured.

“It is not.” Lace raised her hoof with a small smile, revealing Blue Star’s cutie mark on the cover. “I… had forgotten about it, and only you coming to us reminded me of it again.”

Rosewater’s heart stopped beating as she stared at the book that her aunt had kept from her, that her father had given to her instead of to his own daughter. “Did… I…” Words slipped out of her grasp as she slid from the chair to the carpet, eyes locked on the book. The worn pages called to her, told her he’d written in it with his own hoof.

She had so few pages of his writing left. Most of them had been destroyed by Roseate when she’d left the palace to live with Carnation. But a few. A precious few.

One hoof settled shakily on the edge of the desk. “Why?” She swallowed and tried to stand, to get a closer look, but her hind legs trembled as the pain in her throat from trying to keep from sobbing rose to new intensity. She could see him, writing a note for her and going out for an errand, leaving her to puzzle out the letters and then the words, his hoof so neat and careful, like the lines of a Royal Guard parade.

Lace swallowed heavily and came around the desk to sit against her. “When she gave it to me, she didn’t say who it was from, and I didn’t look at her urging. She only said I would know when.”

“Wasn’t… I… didn’t she…” Rosewater struggled against the weight of memories of her father, the kindest, most loving stallion she’d ever known… and the idea that he’d kept something so precious from her. “Didn’t he… trust me?”

“He loved you more than anything,” Lace murmured in her ear, her closeness helping ease some of the rushing, raging tempest of questions, thoughts, and emotions swirling through her.

Her magic sputtered for a moment, then caught, and she pulled the book towards her, unable to muster enough focus to do more than lift it an inch above the table. Lace helped her steady it as she opened it to the first page, eager and terrified to learn what had been hidden from her.

To my dearest daughter, Rosewater Star Rosethorn.

These are words you will need to hear when you are older, when you can understand what they mean. I’m entrusting these to your aunt Carnation to pass on to you when the time is right. I have not long, but there are things every child needs to hear from their father. That I was brought up to believe needed to be said.

First, I love you. With all my being. Whatever else happened between your mother and I, I do not regret, nor would I undo any decision I made, so long as you were there to smile and laugh and tell me all about your day.

Second, I will always be with you, watching over you from the stars above. Look up to find me, my darling child, and I will be there.

The page shimmered, and the rest faded into a watershed of tears as she slumped against the desk, the pain of his loss crashing into her all over again. The moment, the most important moment of her life smashing into her once more.

“Daddy?” Rosewater sat on the floor at the side of her father’s bed, listening to his labored breathing. It was late, and the sun had already gone down. The doctors had already gone home for the night, and it was just her and her father in their suite in the palace.

“I’m here sweetie,” he rasped, his voice crackling, and the sound of his breathing crackling as he took a deeper breath. It was one of the symptoms the doctors were trying to treat, she knew. She’d followed along as best she could, hoping that she could find some way to help.

His golden eyes shone as he shifted, coming closer to her, one leaden hoof resting on her back. He’d said she was going to be taller than him when she grew up, and he already didn’t have to reach down from the bed to hold her.

“I brought you a chrysanthemum,” she said softly, bringing the bright pink flower with its hundreds of petals to rest on the bed. “Your favorite.”

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, raising his head long enough to look down at it, then laying back on the pillow. “Just like you are.” He pushed himself up then, the effort taking all of his strength, and cleared a space for her. “Come up here and let me hold you for a little while, dearest heart.”

The doctors said he shouldn’t get up. She knew that. But she couldn’t resist the offer, couldn’t tell him to lay down. They were all talking about how many days left. But… they had to be wrong. There had to be some magic that could help, if only she could find it. But not tonight. Tonight, she could sleep in her daddy’s embrace. Tomorrow she could find the magic.

“You’re getting so big,” her father murmured as he laid his chin on her head, just beside her horn. “You’ll be taller than me, taller than your grandpa.”

He coughed, then, raising his head away from her and descending into the wracking coughs that left him limp and listless for hours, unable to recover his once vital energy.

“Daddy?” She asked as the coughing went on. Harsh, rattling coughs, as if his ribs were clacking together. He was so thin. Not like he had been. Strong, indomitable. Daddy.

Minutes passed, and the force of the coughs lessened until he finally lay his head on the pillow, his entire body trembling, but he drew her in close, holding her as tightly as he could.

He didn’t answer her as he lay there, still trembling, his grip loosening as his breathing grew shallower and shallower.

“Daddy!” She screamed, pulling away just enough to gain her hooves and pressing her forehead to his. “Somepony help!” She cried again after a moment of listening.

“Love…” he whispered, his voice almost too quiet for her to hear.

Magic. She had magic. The power of life, he’d always said. Everypony had it, but for unicorns…

She pressed her forehead to his again and crossed horns with him and drew on everything she had. All the magical might her young body could contain, she took and pushed it at him through her horn.

Bright pink light flared, soon matched by his golden glow, a flicker of his eyes told her it was working. He was waking a little. Just a little. But maybe she could hold him until…

“Love,” he whispered more strongly.

Something inside her broke open, and more magic than she’d ever been able to hold before flooded into her, surging across her flanks and then to her horn again, and she felt love. His love for her, blazing like the golden sun in her mind.

Too quickly it began to dwindle again, a candle burning so bright it would have rivaled the sun at noonday… and gone more quickly than a thought.

“I love you,” he said weakly. “Forever.”

The light fled her horn, and a wave of weariness like she’d never felt broke over her like the waves during a storm.

With it, the light in his eyes faded and the hoof against her ankle slid to the bed.

His breath didn’t rattle anymore. His chest didn’t rise.

Rosewater screamed.

“Shhh.” Lace’s voice in the now didn’t do anything to ease the ache in her heart. She’d thought she’d put that memory away and locked it up tight.

But… the light of his love. She could feel it again like the summer sun on her coat, suffusing her again as it had for an all-too-brief second twenty-four years ago.

“I loved…” she stopped herself and shook her head, sitting up straighter and gathering herself together again. “I love him. So much. It’s been too long since I’ve thought…” About the day he died.

Nopony knew that she’d been there to see his final moments. Not a soul. Not even Carnation, whom she’d found at last and begged her to get the doctors. They all thought she’d found him that way… and her fillyish babbling had helped obscure the truth until…

Until Roseate had told her to grow up and stop whining.

“Rosewater,” Lace said in a softly firm tone. “You needn’t hide yourself here.”

She nodded, and closed the book. Simply reading that much had thrown her into a spiral of despairing thoughts and memories. She couldn’t risk falling into a spiral in the estate. She might not find her way back out for days. Days in which disaster might strike.

“Can… I ask you to keep it. For a little while longer.”

“But—” Lace sat up straighter and stared hard at her. She took a breath, let it out, and nodded. “It will be safe here. My solemn oath upon that.”

“Thank you, Lace.”

“My dear, if you want to talk, to tell me what had you in such distress…”

The open-ended suggestion tempted her more than she expected. Lace was… kinder. As kind as Blue Star had been in her own way. “Not today. Someday,” she said, dipping her ears apologetically. Already she could feel the icy walls of mental fortitude rebuilding around the pained core, the ache fading as she walled it away from herself.

But still… that warm light of love beat at her, at the wall.

She yearned to let it out.

Control, Rosewater. Keep it together.

“You haven’t had a mother, have you?” Lace asked her as she pulled back.

“No.”

“It’s perhaps too late to do more than offer, but there are still things that I can do for you that a mother would. Listen to you. Give you advice. See to it that you’re taking care of yourself.” Lace’s smile brightened briefly. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to offer to take you under my wing, as it were. Whatever else happens with Collar, I would like to see you settled into a safer place in your mind.”

“You… would offer that to me?” Rosewater asked, a dazed pallor to her thoughts. “I-I don’t even know what to think… let alone say.”

“Hardly surprising, given the shock you’ve received just today, my dear.” She raised a brow, then. “Do you not have any writings of your fathers’?”

“No. Roseate burned them all. All that she could get her hooves on.” Her bitter tone surprised even her, and the hatred for her ‘mother’ burned all the hotter until her eyes fell on the book again. The precious book with her father’s thoughts and memories in it. “But… he knew that might happen, didn’t he? And so did Carnation.”

Lace, if she was shocked to hear the revelation, didn’t show it. It wouldn’t have surprised Rosewater if Lace had suspected it of her. “I suspect both did.”

Rosewater was about to answer when the door opened, and Dapper Air walked in, his characteristic smile fading as he took in the scene, his eyes darting to the book, then to Rosewater, lingering on her eyes that must have been bloodshot from crying.

“I’m glad she decided to give it to you,” Dapper said in a softly somber tone. “I knew Blue Star quite well in my day, and I even met his father once, when I visited Canterlot decades ago. You do resemble them more than your mother’s side, you know.”

“I know.” A sudden urge to know all that she could about her Canterlot family took hold of her, but she tamped it down before the first question could reach her lips.

“That was an offer, young lady. To tell you about them,” Dapper said, as if he’d seen the inner workings of her thoughts written across her breast.

“What… was he like? Before… before… he settled down.”

Dapper pulled Lace’s brandy glass from the desk and settled into the chair Rosewater had occupied, swirling the dark amber liquid about before taking a sip. “Well… like all of the Knights of the Sun, he was courageous and brave beyond doubt, wise and learned…”

Rosewater settled in to listen, feeling like a filly again as the warmth of a summer sun melted a hole in her icy redoubt.

Author's Note

This chapter was hard to write. I knew I would have to show this ending scene memory sometime. I knew what it would entail in a small outline-ish way. But I had a hard time writing it all the same.