“Lord Collar,” Rosewater said, feigning surprise at seeing both him and Cloudy waiting for her at the office. “It’s a pleasure to see you before formalities take over.”

Collar chuckled and extended a hoof to tap. “I felt it best to at least try to get to know you aside from as a negotiator. Besides, I feel we’ve been incredibly unfair of late with the terms we’ve required.”

“By law,” Rosewater said with a sigh, tapping the hoof and then offering the same to Cloudy. “And it’s good to see you again. Sadly, I have no more stories about…” She glanced at the guards and the few traders who’d stopped to stare and listen without even bothering to be subtle about it. “Well, indelicate events.”

That earned her a snort and a giggle from the mare, who glanced at the traders as well. “Ah well. Perhaps a story about what you’ve been up to since we saw you last?”

Rosewater’s ears flicked, a nervous tick. You’re being too open, Cloudy. “I spent time at the Garden of Love. More than I spent at home. In truth, it’s becoming as a home to me.” She edged towards the treaty office. “I need my treaty flag. Pardon me for just a moment.”

“No need today,” Collar said, bobbing his head. “Today is still treaty business, but I’m hoping we can be a little less formal about it all. It’s clear that our task will take longer than it usually does for a herdgild, even so complicated a one as this.”

“And so,” Cloudy added in an apparently planned followup, “we requested from the Treaty Office that as long as we accompany you, that you are considered to be treaty-bound. On our voucher. I’d love for us to find a way towards Friendship, to be honest.”

“And…” Rosewater glanced at the everpresent guards familiar with her visits who weren’t ponies she thought she could call friendly. “My warrants?”

“Treaty business,” Collar reminded her. “This isn’t a trick, Rosewater. Firelight would hang my hide on his door if I tried to arrest you after claiming to speak for the office. As he would do for any pony who did so against my orders,” he added with a glance at the bridge guards, then at the patrol that had stopped to watch.

All five ponies turned back to their duties with an alacrity that resembled whiplash.

Tension faded from her shoulders and hindquarters as the urge to fight or flee subsided. “Thank you, Collar. I take it, then, that one or both of you will accompany me to and from the bridge each time?”

“Indeed, and it need not be the Primrose bridge since you’ve changed your residence.”

“By action rather than intent,” Rosewater agreed. “I’ve even been given a room in the villa itself.”

“I’m glad,” Cloudy said softly, sidling up beside her, too close to be merely friendly by Damme standards. “I’ve been worried that you spend too much time alone, Rosewater. You need and deserve company that loves and accepts you.”

Rosewater glanced at Collar to see his reaction to the move, but the only thing he did was smile and give a dismissive flick of his ear. What he was dismissing, she didn’t know yet, but she followed when he stepped back into the row and started on towards the palace.

What truly set her mood off was when he drifted almost as close as Cloudy was, without seeming to realize it himself.

Until she caught a small smile out of the corner of her eye when he bumped into her on a sharp turn to avoid a cart that stopped suddenly ahead of them.

After that, she relaxed. He was behaving oddly compared to their last visit, but considering how comfortably they’d sat flank-to-flank and shoulder-to-shoulder on their last date… it was comforting to feel Cloudy occasionally bump into her on one side, and Collar on the other.

Even the whispers that rose up around them as they wove through the early morning traffic stopped bothering her after a while of traveling with and against the flow of hoof traffic to and from busier and quieter parts of the waking city.

A walk that had always seen her with a broad corridor of loneliness on either side didn’t seem to happen this time. Rather, ponies seemed to want to gather close to listen to whatever gossip might come from the unflagged Rosewater and the two future rulers of Damme flanking her.

Whatever snippets of talk the three of them shared, mostly about the weather and the recent reports from ships that a new town had been founded in Mt. Canter’s shadow, on the borders of the Everfree, a wilderness famously wild and dangerous, and home to wild magic older than pony civilization.

“I wish them well,” Collar said with a sigh and a glance towards the forest north of the cities. “Stars know we’ve had our experiences in the past with wild magic in forests.”

“I hear it’s more of a jungle,” Cloudy said, shivering all over. “Stars, I can’t imagine trying to take care of wings in a place that muggy.”

“That’s because you’re a northern pony,” Rosewater said, teasing her with a nip to the ear. “You think it gets muggy if it’s warm and foggy.”

“Because it does,” Cloudy grumbled.

As relaxed as she let herself look, Rosewater was intensely aware of the sharp looks several ponies gave her and Cloudy, or, when Collar nipped her ear and drew a yelp from her, the even more pointed looks and whispers that started up around them.

“Relax,” Collar whispered before he drew away. “It’s good to see the two of you getting along so well. I’ve been glad to see your heart lighter around friends, Rosewater.”

“You included, Collar?”

“Myself included. I’d like to think this ordeal has brought more than our common interests together. A friendship with you will be vital, going forward. It’s part of why we wanted to leave off the trappings of the treaty today.” He glanced to the side to where a particularly loud gossiper was talking with his friends. “You’re here not as a negotiator today, but as a future head of state.”

Mother will find out, she thought, her stomach turning at the idea. She’ll hear all of this.

A moment later, Collar bumped against her, and sent the fear right out of her. But what can she do? I’m not acting against her directly. I’m not spying for Lace. She found herself standing straighter. She was going to be the next Baroness of Merrie. She would, if nothing else, negotiate an end to the war and a joining of the cities.

She glanced at Collar, dipping her ears and offering him a slight smile. “Thank you. I’ve wanted to be less formal with you. It’s… calming, Collar, to think that today I might not have to think about how many years of debt I’m consigning myself to.”

It was her cover story, but it still made Collar wince.

“Rosemary has been a model prisoner,” Collar replied softly. “And considering your circumstances, it only makes sense to have a quiet day amid the tension of dealing in future favors and debts.”

Rosewater bowed her head and nodded.

Today was going to be different.

It was hard to keep the joyous laughter in.

Why are you trying to?

She laughed softly at first, drawing eyes to her, not least of all Collar and Cloudy, looking at her in alarm, then both of them smiling as if they knew why she was laughing.

“Today’s going to be different!” Rosewater cried, laughing and startling several ponies around her. “Stars,” she whispered. “Stars, that felt good.”

Cloudy worked hard to keep her throat from tightening any further as she stared at the sheaf of paper on the counter, the ingredients that had been mysterious to her as a filly, the steps to take that were all but arcane to make the Cinnamon Delights that had been a family secret for generations.

Beside her, Rosewater hummed softly just like her mother did while she made them, the entire cadence of the recipe made to song. She could imagine her mother humming it as she wrote it down.

“It’s amazing,” Collar said a little further down, tending to the mixing of the dry ingredients and topping, “that your family passed this down orally for so long, Cloudy.”

“It really is,” Rosewater murmured as she folded the dough again, borrowing a scoopful of the pre-prepared filling and basting it over the bare dough the fold had exposed.

Already, Cloudy could smell the cinnamon and sweetness that would be filling the palace with memories of her childhood soon. “They’re… stars, the way you’re making them is just how my family makes them.” She glanced from Rosewater to Collar, her smile faltering as the image of her parents standing in the kitchen, handling three stations in the process of making the treats.

The counters had been so high it was all she could do to rear up and stare at the process as a filly, her mouth watering. A few years later, she’d been promoted from watcher to oven-watcher, then from oven-watcher to dry-ingredients mixer. All while her senior mother hummed and directed the process. What Cloudy was doing now, directing the process.

It was for the best. Tears came and went as the process moved from one step to the next.

“I should hope so,” Rosewater murmured as she finished basting and folded again, beginning the basting again, mindful of not pressing too much of the filling out from between the layers. When they baked, the flaky crusts would do that and coat the ends and settle into a bubbling bath for the bottoms, infusing cinnamon into the base of the treat. “I helped her make two batches day before yesterday. I made them at the Garden last night, just to make sure I had it right. At your mother’s urging.”

“You… stars above, I still can’t believe they risked—”

“I’m not spying, Cloudy. They’re not spying.” Rosewater glanced at Collar and bobbed her head.

Instantly, sound from outside blanked out.

“I also told them that I would help them flee if they needed.” Rosewater’s throat hitched as she delivered the news, but she gave Cloudy a look that said she would help no matter what.

It was up to Cloudy to accept that. “My… my sister? Brother?”

“Both fine, and overjoyed to hear news from their big sister. I wish they would leave to be with you, but they have… history. Their home.”

“The last ancestral home of the family,” Cloudy murmured. “It’s been in our family for ten generations, and now it’s all we have.” She fixed Rosewater with a look, let her gaze drop when she saw understanding, and nodded. “They’ll flee. If they must. But the family home is an anchor for them. My mother’s parents, her father’s parents, his father’s parents…”

“Family.” Rosewater nodded slowly. “I understand.”

“They’ll be safe here, if they need to be,” Collar murmured softly. “They’d be refugees. Mother is already preparing for it if we need to accept more. She, and Dapper, are more than aware of what might happen if Roseate gets wind of any kind of ‘rebellious’ actions being taken, regardless of how rebellious they are.”

Cloudy felt a pang of hope that they would join her, that she could see her family again as more than figures leaving the house from a distance. Hold them. Hear them.

At the same time, the want to not have them have to face what she had warred against her own selfish desires.

“What happens,” Rosewater murmured in her ear, “happens. Your family will be safe regardless.”

Collar, on the other side of her, nodded. “If we get word, Cloudy, that something is happening at your family’s house, we’ll be ready to escort them across the nearest bridge if we need to.”

If. Cloudy drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you.” Cloudy settled in to watch both of them work. The powder and cream Collar was working with, refilling Rosewater’s bowl as she worked, continued to smell delicious and richly fragrant. “There was something Collar wanted to tell you, too,” she said.

He didn’t even flinch. He was ready, then. The calming atmosphere of the small kitchen, the familial atmosphere, it was all working towards his vision of ‘this is what the future could be.’ With her, with Rosewater… all that was missing was Rosemary crowded in somewhere to help. Cloudy focused on that, and pushed away the worry of what might happen to her family. She couldn’t do anything but make it worse.

“I’ve been thinking about where our next outing will be,” Collar said softly, glancing at Cloudy, then meeting Rosewater’s gaze. “I… spoke to Rosemary. And discussed places. That were special to you.”

“The overlook is special to me,” Rosewater replied, meeting his gaze, then glancing at Cloudy. “What… changed?”

“Every date we’ve had, Rosewater, has been in Damme. Or on territory controlled by Damme, at least.” Collar steadied himself and looked past her again to meet Cloudy’s sure gaze, and got a small nod in return. “I want our next to be, if not in Merrie, then on your side of the river. I want to come to you.”

“To me?” Rosewater’s neck arched faintly, and he could well imagine the shiver that went down her spine. “Collar, it’s not safe for you in Merrie.”

“I know. That’s true for now, at least. The place I had in mind, Rosemary said was outside the city, and that it was special to you, too.” Collar turned from his slow mixing and pulled free Rosemary’s journal from under one of the cookbooks. “East of the city, past the bog forest, and to a shallow stream that fed the bog and the Merrie. A place rich with a diversity of plantlife, I understand.”

Rosewater’s eyes danced from him to the journal page with the map. “It… was to help her grow her talent. Her interest in plants of all kinds, not just fragrant and pretty ones. Carnation and I… we spent days at a time away from the bustle of the city with her, teaching her, learning ourselves as we encountered plants that had to be identified back home. Stars, those little projects of hers, nose in book after book, staring at drawings until she found the right one.”

Her smile was more beautiful as she recounted the small tale than any he’d seen her putting on. It was a mother’s pride, plain and simple, and if he thought back, he could see the same smile on his own mother’s face, and his father’s.

“We wandered the woods all the time we were out there, and sometimes Rosemary would try to drag us out there to look for some herb or lichen she’d heard about that hid in specific places. And, often, we would go.” Her chuckle was rich and hearty, and Collar’s heart skipped a beat hearing it. Her laughter was rare, and it was something he’d come to cherish about her. They weren’t ever false laughs, but real, and heartfelt. “We spoiled her rotten, and she gave us all the love she had for taking her.”

“You both love her dearly.”

“Yes,” Rosewater said, glancing down at the pastry she had been basting, and resumed, folding over one of the last folds and continuing on. “It’s a good place to camp, Collar. Filled with good memories for me.” She dipped her brush again, paused, and looked him in the eye. “What changed, Collar. On our last date…”

I nearly told her I loved her. Collar nodded instead of telling her. “Our toast, Rosewater.”

It was curious to see realization roll over her, from the way she stared at him, to the moment her spell fizzled, dropping the brush into the bottom of the cast iron pan, to the wide-eyed-realization of what that toast had meant to him.

‘Even for you and I.’

“Collar…”

He wanted to say the words. He wanted to kiss her, give her the sign he’d told her was his marker of love. It hurt not to, and see that desire in her eyes. But… he… they needed time. Here, they wouldn’t have it.

“I know,” Collar answered her unspoken need with a touch of his nose to her shoulder, and a pointed look at the closed, silenced door to the rest of the palace.

She understood, without him needing to say more, and nodded, drawing a deep breath. “And,” she added, glancing at Cloudy, “we have a pastry to finish and share with Rosemary, Dapper, and Lace, don’t we?”

“And Glory,” Cloudy said. “And the guards on duty. This is more than mom used to make. Mom shared it with you, Rosewater. She would want us to share it here. The time for secrets is coming to an end.”

A shiver of anticipation shot through Collar at her words. The time for secrets was coming to an end. Soon enough, whether at the gala or after, the world would know he was in love with both Cloudy and Rosewater. And… Rosemary.

Stars, she’d been such a good support for him. It was hard to think of the young mare as a love interest, but he did love her for all she did for not only him, for Cloudy, but for her mother. She was a bright spot in the palace of late, and even her frequent visits to the public garden had tended to draw more and more ponies who just wanted to see her and talk to her to learn about the strange, brilliant light in their midst.

She was a flower in a field of grass, bright and strange, and attractive in so many ways more than her obvious physical beauty.

More and more, ponies in the palace were seeing her for those other qualities. Her kindness and inquisitive mind, her genuine interest in ponies and what made them tick. She was social where her mother struggled.

“I think,” Collar said, swallowing back the urge to tell them that his heart had seemed to expand, and he’d only just realized it. “I think we should invite Rosemary on our sharing expedition.”

Both Rosewater and Cloudy looked at him, then shared a smile and a giggle.

“Stars, you mares, can you at least let me explore my burgeoning heart at my own pace.” Collar waggled the spatula he’d been using to stir up the cream at them, flicking a glob onto Rosewater’s nose.

Immediately, he wanted to lick it off, but he hesitated. He didn’t know where that one act would take him.

After a moment, Cloudy rolled her eyes and drew Rosewater closer to her, licked the glob off… and then kissed her lightly on the lips. Then more firmly, then parted and glanced at him, brows raised.

It was an effort to keep himself from reacting to that simple show of love and affection, of intimacy. But he wanted to join in. Stars, he wanted to join them both.

“I think,” Rosewater murmured softly, “that we should finish cooking before Collar shows any more of his arousal.”

Cloudy’s nostrils flared, and her wicked grin did nothing to help Collar’s mood.

“Please,” Collar blurted before she could say anything. “Please, Cloudy. I… need time. And space. And to understand myself.”

The grin faded, and she nodded, her expression thoughtful. Then, she kissed Rosewater one more time, lighter, and some of the worry in Rosewater’s eyes faded after his outburst.

“I’m sorry, Collar,” Cloudy murmured as she ducked her head under Rosewater’s, drawing a squawk from the taller mare as she danced back to let her by.

Uncertain, Collar reached out to touch her chin lightly with a hoof, and drew in, thinking he knew what her game was, only for her to kiss his nose instead of his lips.

Her eyes seemed to tell him that was all she could do. You need to do the rest.

“Forgiven.”

East called to her even as Rosewater supervised the raising of the massive tent and testing the tensions against the weights it would likely face, and even a little beyond. Her eyes kept drawing in that direction, and her thoughts kept meandering to the note she’d left for Collar along with some extra, dry firewood at the campsite that had so many beautiful memories for her.

Memories that, in truth, had started to fade into the background of the daily isolation she’d practiced, that he’d reawoken with his offer.

For that alone she could have kissed him without his consent. It wouldn’t have been the romantic kiss she craved, but a grateful one. She’d needed the push to revisit sites that had been a large part of Rosemary’s growing up, too.

She’d even recovered all of Rosemary’s jars and boxes of herbs and things from her workroom and brought them to the Garden. Openly, too, and given them over to White Rose and her husbands for their use in caring for the foals of the Garden. Or the other ponies of the garden.

Rosemary wouldn’t want them to molder away, not after she’d spent so much time refining and drying them to be of a medicinal grade.

“Are you okay?” Petal asked from just under Rosewater’s nose.

“Stars!” Rosewater danced back, looking around her, tail lashing, and wondered just how long she’d spent staring east. “Sorry, Pet.”

“It’s fine, dear, but you’ve been testing the tension on that line for a full minute. I think it’s going to stand up to a little storm.”

“A big storm. From the south,” Rosewater murmured, raising her nose to test the air again. “The warm front is pushing a lot of unfamiliar pollen north.”

“No wonder little Dancer is sneezing his head off lately. Swear that little colt must have some Rosethorn blood in him somewhere.” Petal shook her head and drew Rosewater off to the side, away from the ponies finishing tying down the lines with long iron spikes with auger tips. “What is it, Rosewater? It’s not the storm.”

“It is, and it isn’t,” Rosewater replied, forcing herself not to glance to the north and give away the real reason. If the storm hit before Collar finished his setup, his cart tracks would be clearly visible to any pegasus flying low enough to survey the damage. “If it tracks the way the pegasi say it will, it’s going to dump a lot of rain in the river valley. The river will be running high and rapid.”

Petal pursed her lips and glanced north to the Merrie, currently at a relative low, the waters barely visible over the rocky embankment keeping the shore safe from erosion. “Flooding?”

“Maybe,” Rosewater murmured, then guided Petal’s gaze to the Rosewine Bridge across it, and the middle island built up into a fortress against the pounding of hundreds of years of river-water surging against it. It would have shifted and left the Rosewine Hill district of the city isolated from Damme if it hadn’t been so fortified. “I’m more worried about the bridge, honestly. It’s still got wooden pilings.”

“Thick, sturdy wooden pilings that were replaced just forty years ago. With treated, spelled lumber. My grandmother paid enough for the refurbishment. It should last another thirty.” Petal sniffed and shook her head. “But we’ll keep an eye on it. It’s always a risk in the worst flows.”

Rosewater knew that much. She’d inspected the wardings on the bridge pilings herself the first time Rosemary had wanted to cross it. They were sturdy spells, and woven into the very life of the wood by the best of Damme’s shipbuilders. They’d withstand a hundred years of saltwater. A little river water shouldn’t even make it flinch.

“I know.” More, she was worried about how rapidly the waters would rise, and whether they’d rise high enough for her to be grateful Rosefire estate’s front stoop had been built so high just because the water could rise that far, and had in the past. Though not since the Dammers had rebuilt the Dam far to the east a hundred and fifty years ago, providing better control over the headwaters and diverting much of the overflow down the Merrie’s sister river curving much farther south.

A good enough storm could still overwhelm it if it hit in the wrong place or brought too much rain. The superstorms that were more common down south would have been a disaster, but none of the warmth-loving things ever ventured so far north with any of their vigor left.

“Then stop worrying. There are ponies whose job it is to watch the river, and the bridge. Yours is to be you, and help me supervise the layout we agreed on for the vendor tents.” Petal nipped her cheek.

“You’re right.” Rosewater stole one last glance to the east and sent a hopeful prayer to the Mare in the Moon.

Keep him safe and keep him hidden.

She startled when Petal whispered in her ear, “He’s going to be fine.”

Collar leaned against the cart, panting. It was just past midnight, and he’d spent the entire past hour wrestling the cart by magical strength over roots low-hanging branches along the trail Rosemary had drawn on a map for him.

He’d had to scout it yesterday night, just to make sure it was the right trail, and he only had a few days until their date. Just after the Commoner’s Gala and all the stress that entailed for Rosewater. She’d gone into depth about what had to happen before then, and while he didn’t want to add to her stress, it was something she was looking forward to, she’d said. He wanted to make this a chance to relax for her.

When he’d told her where…

Collar pushed himself back all the way upright and slid under the harness again, buckling it around his barrel and across his breast before straining against it again, up the broader path of the stream. One wheel was perpetually in it, but it was shallow, smooth, and rocky enough that the relatively light weight of the bulky tent and camping gear didn’t dig into the bed very much.

Further up, the trail widened even further as the canopy’s stretch settled the trees that survived farther apart, and the going got easier, as he’d known it would, until the trail opened up into the clearing, almost a glade save for the flat slate shelf that made up a large part of it, covered here and there by piles of earth that looked as if it had drifted like sand up onto it.

It rose at an odd, shallow angle until it mated with the hill it had been birthed from, hinting it had once been quite the cliff until the local stream had undercut it enough to collapse it. The farther up he went, the more grass and earth there was, something he surmised was a slow process that had culminated in a flatter hilltop with little in the way of fully grown trees and quite a lot of scrub brush, grasses, and rocky earth.

Not far from the top, a greater strain on his hind legs to drag the cart, protesting all the way in the looser soil, up the hill, he found the remnants of past camp sites on little shelves of rocks that were large enough to house a tent and a fire pit.

Broken tent stakes lay half-buried in the soil, their wood almost rotten to dust but still recognizable. He even found a wooden mallet with a cracked head at the final rise to the faintly rounded top of the hill.

And there, right in the center, was a ring of stones, a pile of fresh firewood, and a fluttering piece of paper trapped between two of the logs.

This is the place. Here, I spent my late teens and early twenties teaching a young filly to identify all the plants that grow about here and to get away from the city, and enjoy nature.

“I guess… this is the place.” Collar laughed and glanced behind him at the smaller pile of firewood strapped to one of the braces. “Maybe we can have a bigger fire this time.”

She must have decided to answer his offer with her own acceptance even before. Her eagerness. Yesterday, she had barely been acting after all. He’d seen more of her real face in public then he'd thought to so soon.

Author's Note

A... change of pace today. Collar still isn't ready, but... he's getting close.

It's a hard thing, stepping outside of everything you believed growing up, to a new tradition that you've also been taught is just as valid, but wasn't ever something you had to live with.

Respect for is turning, and has, turned into acceptance. But that first step outside of a comfort zone is still terrifying until the impetus to leap is overriding and nothing is left but to jump.

Commoner's gala begins next week with a two chapter drop on two different days. I won't pretend to guess when the impetus to drop them will be, but I will drop them.