“It’s near closing, can you—”

Rosewater smiled as Silk came out of the back in answer to the jingle of her door bell. “Dear sister. I apologize, but my appointment with the Primlines was lengthened by the interruption of a Primfeather, and I wanted to stop by and see what progress was made since last I saw the dress.”

The shop was empty save them, even Rosary’s daughter was gone for the day, the spying little filly not able to report that she was there.

“I wish you would schedule an appointment like a sane pony,” Silk said with a sigh, but waved her in and flipped both the sign in the window and the lock on the door. “But since you’re here, I might as well show you.”

Rosewater didn’t cast silence around them until they were in the back, where rows upon rows of dresses hung from half-forms in various stages of completion. Colors from across the spectrum glowed in the light of fey sconces, their lights steadier than candles or even oil, even if the gems needed to keep the light were more expensive and wore out over the years.

“Why’d you come?” Silk asked, her voice tired as she cast a silence spell over them. “Vine and I are exhausted, and I just want to get home and hold her.”

“I understand. But I truly do want to see the dress. And I wanted to make sure that you knew I still support you.” Rosewater set a hoof to her sister’s flank. “I do love you, Silk, and I hope that we can be truly a family by the time this is all over.”

Silk trembled at the touch or the words, or both. “She wants Vine to spy on you. On the garden.”

“You know I’m going to tell Seed?”

“She said she was going to tell him herself. She’s not a soldier, Rosewater, not like you or me. She’s not meant for this stupid war. She’s meant to love, and make her beautiful, living sculptures.” Silk’s voice strained for a moment longer, the beginnings of a sob on her breath. “And I? I’m meant to spy on you. Failure isn’t cleaning the sewers or renewing the composting spells. It’s revealing what we did.”

“That—”

“What you’re about to say we’ve both said more than once. Save it. What can you do for us, Rosewater? What can you do to save us when we fail?” Silk hesitated at the end of one row of dresses, pulled one down, and moved towards the end of the storage area, where a full form sat, waiting for her to set a dress to it. “She’s hoping to goad you into doing something stupid.”

“She’s not going to succeed. I have allies, Silk. I’m not alone anymore.”

“I know, and I think she knows or at least suspects which allies you have. Stars, even I can only guess at who you can trust.” Silk snorted as she set about arranging the dress under its cover before she unfastened the ties and pulled the linen cover off. “What do you think? I had to improvise with the blue, since I figured you would have your mane done at the Garden and put the ribbons in there.”

For a moment, Rosewater paused, adjusting to the shift of the conversation. “I will, yes.” Rosewater walked around the form, admiring her sister’s work more than taking in the colors. She couldn’t wait to show it to Collar, to the world, and let it be known that she was courting him. “It’s beautiful. Are you nearly done?”

“I am done, save any changes you wish to make as the customer. I’ll charge you extra for anything that changes in the size requirements.”

“I’m not pregnant.”

“I didn’t say you were.” Silk gave her a look that said she expected it soon. “I’m merely mentioning it if you want to get more than one use out of your dress. I know your budget is tight, and there’s another gala not far along the way.”

Rosewater snorted. “My winter coat won’t make me that thick, sister dearest.”

“Fine.” Silk snorted. “Has he declared for you yet? Since I can’t get an answer out of you by beating around the bush.”

“No. He hasn’t.”

“Vine’s gonna be upset,” Silk said with a small smile. “She really wants you and Dazzle to have a good, happy life together.”

“Truly?”

“She’s a soft heart, Rosewater,” Silk said quietly, then began covering the dress again. “No changes?”

“Not one. It’s beautiful, Silk.” She stroked the foreleg of the dress form. “There was an ulterior motive, though, for me coming here. You were… what? Sixteen?”

Silk narrowed her eyes, as if to say ‘I dropped this topic for a reason.’ “I was. She was fourteen.”

“You know how that’s normally handled? When siblings have sex?”

“Separated and taught. I know that now,” Silk said, bitterness in her voice. “Stars, I didn’t know it then. It almost never happens, Rosewater.”

“Because other parents pay attention to their children and see the signs earlier, and take steps to prevent it. Our mother didn’t pay us any more attention than she had to. She told me to grow up when my father passed away, when I was there to feel his death with my talent, Silk. Carnation, I think, suspected what happened. Roseate never cared.”

Before Silk could say anything, Rosewater forged on, “I’m saying you were never given the chance that other fillies your age would have been given. You were hobbled from the start, and never given the opportunity to recant your feelings and put them behind you as a childish mistake. Go to Lace, surrender to them and seek asylum.”

“I won’t! This is my home, Rosewater, and Vine and I both have our own lovers and loves here. And… and our family. I won’t abandon Crown, Hip, and Rosetail. Especially not Rosetail. She’d be homeless without us, ‘Water. After Roseate kicked her out after the raid? For running like a sensible pony.”

“What?” Homeless?

“You hadn’t heard?” Silk snorted. “She didn’t make it well known, I guess, and she avoids you like the plague. She’s living with us.”

“But she… she has friends? Doesn’t she? You’re both already on her list.”

“Who else would risk angering Roseate? Vine wouldn’t hear of her trying to eke it on her own. She can cut manes, but she has no studio, and nopony will take on somepony who could jeopardize their clientele.”

“She… stars. Stars and fire, what is Roseate doing? She’s barely past her first majority.”

“I know. It’s part of why we took her in, Rosewater. She needs a steady head in her life.”

“How… is she?”

“She’s been…” Silk made a rolling motion with her hoof. “Depressed. She wants nothing more than to earn mother’s love.”

Rosewater closed her eyes. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Now? Nothing. Tomorrow or next week?” Silk shook her head. “I don’t know. Let… let Vine work on her a bit, okay? She needs a loving touch.” She hesitated, biting her lip before she came up to Rosewater and touched noses with her, a close, sisterly nuzzle. “Thank you for offering. It means a lot to me to know you care about us all.”

“I do. Stars, you’re all my flesh and blood, Silk.”

“And Rosary? Well? Powder?”

Rosewater hesitated, her mouth open.

“Don’t. They’re too far gone into mother’s means. Whatever she was born with, she passed it on fully to them.” Silk brushed past her, letting her shoulder linger against Rosewater’s. “And watch out for them. Whatever orders mother gave them, they’re bound to be nasty and vindictive. I wouldn’t go out after dark alone, either. Or even in a small group.”

“Then I had best make my way to the Garden.”

“Do. Be careful, Rosewater. All of our fates ride on your shoulders.”

Collar glanced aside at the clerk waiting with him at the Damme side of the Rosewine bridge, the wind coming off the bay tossing his mane and bringing the scent of salt and seaweed even to his nose. “You don’t have to wait with me.”

“I’m afraid I do,” Vellum Inkfeather, a tawny, small-statured female pegasus said, the tips of her feathers and mane the same ink-dipped color so black it was almost blue. It truly looked like she’d dipped them all in fresh ink. “The strictures are clear, and she must sign for the treaty flag.”

“I could escort her without one.”

“My lord, she specifically requested this at her last visit to the office.” Vellum shook her head, short manecut bobbing. “And Sir Spark is busy on other matters this morning.”

“What other matters? There’s not much to do but batten down the hatches for winter, right? We got our first snow last night.”

Vellum gave him a look that he couldn’t decipher and fell silent, something that only made him question what else the Treaty offices in Merrie and Damme did during the time when communication with Canterlot was limited to what a long-haul pegasus could handle. Perhaps there was an order stretching back to the old days to prepare for a siege.

Whatever it was, Vellum didn’t seem to be bothered by it, so perhaps not. Maybe it was simply settling their ponies into place and securing food and lodging for the next year, or their own preparations for the gala.

They had to have an ear to the whispers in the cities saying something was up. It was all over his own reports these days, mostly rumors about his involvement with Rosewater and just how deeply they went. Some of them even got close to the truth, though the details were distorted. Such as the idea that they had already been married in secret, that she already carried his child, or that he had used some kind of Primline magic to subdue her, or the opposite.

A few of them were more hopeful, that they were actually falling in love, that she was courting him in secret and had won his heart, and her joy on her walks through the city was genuine and open, a sign of her being out from under her mother’s oppressive hoof.

It made him wish he could encourage some of the rumors by more than acting as if he were only warming to her and not actually in love with her. The problem with manipulating rumors was that they were unpredictable.

Then he saw her, briefly, as she came up the rise of the farthest span of the Rosewine, her white coat and pink mane unmistakable. The blue ribbons were back, with a larger one tied into a bow capturing her mane in and keeping it from flying everywhere in the strong breeze coming from the bay, and the rest of her mane was captured in a blanket against her neck, the ribbons all tied into bows capturing overlapping layers.

“Beautiful,” he whispered as she disappeared again, the bridge ahead of him hiding her from view as she descended to the small island in the middle of the river. “Stars.”

Vellum glanced at him again, her expression curious. “Are the rumors true?”

Collar startled, not realizing he’d spoken the thoughts aloud. “Which?”

Vellum flushed.

“If you mean the ones that say I’m falling in love with her… no. I fell in love with her long ago, Vellum. It took me a while to figure it out.” He chuckled at her flustered look. “Surely you’ve been around Merriers enough to know this isn’t even close to what they consider ‘normal’ conversation. And ponies will know soon enough.”

“How soon?”

“A few weeks.” Collar’s smile ached as Rosewater came up the rise again, her mane fluttering more strongly in the breeze, the bows’ loops seeming like they wanted to come free as she stood tall and beautiful on the top of the arch, her eyes searching for only a moment before they found him.

Her smile bloomed like the sunrise when her eyes found him, when they met.

“Maybe sooner,” Vellum murmured beside him.

“Why do you say that?”

“Stars, I’m from Canterlot and I can tell you’re besotted.” Vellum ruffled her wings and pulled out a logbook and a stoppered inkpot and quill, setting both on the ground in front of her. “I wish you would stop by the office instead. It’s easier.”

“But she lives at the Garden now, most of the time. It’s more convenient for her to arrive here.”

“Good morning, Collar,” Rosewater said, her voice languid and warm, speaking of a warm breakfast and a good night. “Vellum. Stars, I forgot I asked. I should have sent word that you didn’t need to come all this way. I was looking forward to a long riverside walk with Collar to the office.”

Vellum snorted and shot a look at Collar. “Next time, perhaps. It’s no issue, my lady.” No doubt she would be reporting it to Firelight.

“Still,” she said, stepping up closer and brushing her cheek against his. It was a shockingly intimate greeting in Damme between ponies not related, and especially for enemies. “Thank you for coming to meet me.”

Collar wished, at that moment, that he’d had the courage to divert her course into a kiss. Instead, he returned her cheek brush and leaned into it. “You’re welcome.”

Across the river, Crown frowned into her morning tea, pondering Collar’s unguarded words to the Treaty Office secretary. They could change what she needed to do, and change her possible paths to victory. Note hadn’t been able to offer her assurances that she would be welcomed in Damme, not after she’d been captured in the middle of a raid, been seen at another, and…

So much else had raised barriers to her entry into Damme. She may have served her time, commuted with the payment of the herdgild, but she already had another arrest warrant on her docket.

But this… Collar and a more friendly Rosewater opened up new pathways.

It was clear to her that Rosewater was in love with him as well, and the silence of Rosewater’s home, so much more complete than it usually was, for almost two whole days, was suspicious, but not enough on its own for even Roseate to order Rosewater arrested for consorting with the enemy.

A laughable charge.

How can I use this? How can I keep it from Roseate for a little longer?

The bridgehead had been fairly deserted this early in the morning, as few heavy haul ponies used the Rosewine Bridge aside from the vineyard itself. The relatively narrow bridge—as compared to the Dock Bridge or the Primrose—could only accommodate a single cart at a time crossing one span, though the island in the middle could be used to interchange, and it was large enough, and the foundation stones thick enough and high enough from the river, to support a few waiting carts going in either direction and keep a lane free in the middle.

But there was already enough traffic passing by on the riverwalk behind to maybe have heard his utterance, and definitely to see them sharing a more-than-friendly greeting.

And I’m supposed to be watching her when I’m not planning to capture Note.

She had little doubt that Rosewater suspected as much. Her only concern was that one of her three elder sisters, the Triumvirate in Roseate’s confidence, was also listening. Rosewell wasn’t nearly as talented as Crown, but she could manage a passable Far-Listening spell.

Would she think to listen to Collar?

It was a gamble. Perhaps she could pass it off as interference from the wind and splitting her attention between Rosewater and Collar.

She made a few scratches in her notebook, more to seem as if she was doing something, but in truth scratching only the dry nib against the paper. Later, she would put her account in. For now, she merely needed to appear as if she was taking notes, or making an outline for her next poem.

The Rosewine Blossom wasn’t her favorite place to spend her mornings as it was more of an afternoon and evening service, but its place on a hill near the Rosewine bridge, barely a quarter mile from the far bank, meant she had to reach only half of her maximum range, aided by the wind carrying their words farther inland.

“Would you like another scone, miss?”

“No. Thank you though, Honeysuckle.” Crown gave the young mare a courteous smile. “How is your coltfriend?”

“Well,” the mare said, glancing back towards the open door to the kitchens and the interior seating before leaning in closer. “I got permission from his parents to have sex with him, so we’re planning an evening date tomorrow here, then at his house I’m going to talk to his parents about what this means to us. I’m nervous, but I’ve been practicing what I want to say. His mother said she would provide the spell just before, so I’m excited!”

“Wonderful. I’m glad to hear that,” Crown said with a gracious smile. “I hope it goes well.” She pulled an extra full bit from her purse and laid it on the table. “For your date. I won’t hear otherwise, just pay it forward when you have the chance, lovely.”

“I will Miss Crown. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome. Now get before your mother comes and scolds you for dallying with a customer.” Crown chuckled as the mare flushed and tucked the bit into her tip pouch and pranced back to the restaurant.

Maybe this is a good morning place. It was quiet, at least, and being one of only three other customers there…

I wish you could be here, Note.

She lounged for a while, staring at the river and the docks, the cities bustling down below, and lamented that the namesake blossoms had long ago fallen and been swept away, and even the leaves on the trees were long-gone.

But spring comes again.

There was an idea for a song or a poem there. She could spend a few more minutes or an hour trying to suss it out before she would have to leave and let the table be cleaned before the lunch rush.

Collar grimaced when Rosewater raised her nose and sniffed delicately at the air. It meant an end to their meeting. An end to the slow kisses and nuzzles, the holding of each other. Cloudy and Rosemary were in the public gardens with Stride and Sunrise, helping him overcome some of his anxieties following the ambush at the old dueling grounds.

Leaving him and the mare who was to be the first mother of his children to discuss arrangements for what their declaration would mean, who to trust with the revelation that Rosewater’s heir would be his child.

“It’s Coat,” she said softly, glancing at the clock standing in the corner. “The time passed too quickly, Collar,” she whispered before lowering her gaze to the scroll holding the latest result of their negotiations, the false front to their courtship. A lien on her Rosefire Estate that she would be allowed to pay down over ten years. It would never be placed, but it was a part of what she was offering. It made up a substantial amount of the final amount of the herdgild, depending on appraisal.

Her face settled into an impassive mask that he wanted to brush away with a touch, but she smiled at him from under it and tucked the scroll into her saddlebags.

Instead, he rose with her and adopted his own mask and pulled open the door just as Coat raised his hoof to knock. “Coat, thank you for being punctual.”

Coat shot a look at Rosewater and swallowed. “O-of course, my lord. Both Primfeather Wing and Down are here to see you for your afternoon appointment.”

He felt, more than saw, Rosewater stiffen. “Thank you, Coat. I’ll walk the Lady Rosewater to the door. I take it both are in the entry hall?”

Coat winced. “My lord, if you would consider, I would walk Lady Rosewater to the door. It would be less…”

“No. I’ll walk with the two of you, but I won’t insult Rosewater by foisting my responsibilities as a host off on you, Coat.” His old friend gave him a searching look, then nodded, and Collar continued, “The one concession I will make is allow you to escort her to the Treaty office, and then to the Rosewine bridge.”

“My lord?”

“I wish to return to my home by the most direct means, Lieutenant Coat,” Rosewater said. “I’d rather not be beset by my mothers partisans on my way to a peaceful dinner and gentle night.”

Collar tried to remain impassive, but when she’d told him what Silk had told her, it had been all he could do not to demand she stay in Damme for her own safety. He had asked her to consider it, at least, but he’d known before the words had even left his mouth that it wasn’t something they could do. Not yet, and especially not with Wing making a formal appointment to talk to him regarding the harvest and his faction’s concerns.

“I see.” Coat’s attention shifted. “I have authority to resist ponies attempting to arrest her?”

Collar snapped himself back to the present, but not without the heat of the thoughts skirling in his mind. “Coat, if anypony attempts to arrest her, I will have their hides on my wall before the sun goes down,” Collar growled. “I trust you can convey that to any of our overzealous junior officers?”

Coat swallowed and nodded. “Coll, what’s…” He glanced over his shoulder, ears flattening. “Stars, what’s gotten into you?”

“Speak freely,” Collar said, spreading silence over the room and closing the door. “I suppose it’s probably time I let you in, anyway. I need to get Sunrise and Platinum on board soon, too.”

“On board with what?” Coat asked, suspicion in his eyes. “You haven’t told me anything, not that I expect it, but you’ve always come to me to talk about matters of…”

“The heart. This… matter of the heart, Coat, I couldn’t. It is as good as a state secret.”

“State secret? What’s gotten into you? This isn’t like you.” Coat flicked a glance at Rosewater, then back to him. “What’s going on? There’s rumors that Thistle repeats when he comes home from his teahouse. You’re in love with her, she’s in love with you, she’s pregnant, you’re pregnant…”

Rosewater snorted a laugh. “Really now. That would be quite the trick.”

Coat pointed a hoof at her. “Are you? In love with her. Coll, I’ve been worried sick with—”

“Yes.”

Coat stuttered to a stop, and even Rosewater stared at him, her ears flattening briefly before she nodded slowly.

“Cloudy knows?”

“Of course. She was a proponent of it before I was. Coat,” Collar said, reaching out to his friend. “I know I’ve been distant lately. I’ve been unsure how to let you into a big change in my life. Please believe me when I say she’s not who you think she is. She’s a mare worthy of love, Coat.”

“But the Tussen Twee…” Coat stared at him, his eyes flicking to Rosewater. “Why? Stars, why, Collar? You know what this will do to our ponies.”

“It will let them see that our brothers and sisters across the river aren’t promiscuous miscreants, too debauched to see their folly. They’re ponies, Coat, and their love, their way, is no more or less valid than ours.” Collar sidled closer to Rosewater and leaned against her. “She’s more than you’ve heard. She’s strong, Coat, but not unkind, not unloving. She loves her adopted daughter more than you can know, and she’s been through so much to get here.”

“And none of that explains why you’re in love with her,” Coat said, glancing at her again and studying her more intently. “Rosemary?”

“She’s my adopted daughter, yes. And no, none of that does explain why love blooms, Coat. It can explain why love has a chance, but love is personal, and translating that is too much like comparing it to other loves.” Rosewater’s voice fell into that of a teacher’s, a parent’s, patiently explaining a difficult concept. “We don’t compare our loves, Coat. It’s rude to say ‘My love for Rosemary is greater than my love for Collar.’ They are not. I am her parent, and my love for her is different from my love for him, but no more or less real or potent.”

“Love is love,” Collar said, nodding. “It doesn’t need to be compared.”

Coat considered that for a long moment, then held out a hoof to her. “Can you promise me you mean him no harm, my lady? Look me in the eye and say that without reservation?”

“I promise you, Coat. I mean neither Collar nor Cloudy, nor even Lace and Dapper any harm. On the contrary. I find myself seeing the Baroness and Baron as more parental than my own mother towards me.” Rosewater set her hoof on Coat’s, her eyes never leaving his. “I would defend them from all, and have, even from my own mother.”

Coat studied her face for another long moment, then nodded. “I have heard much of you of late, my lady. But we had best not tarry much longer or Wing will burst in and accuse me of being caught in your web.” His smile held a hint of wry humor before he glanced at Collar. “If you would permit it, my lord, I would take her on a longer walk than usual through the city. I feel I should take the time to get to know one of the loves of my lord’s life.”

That should be me.

“And through the city as well? Back to the Rosewine bridge?” Rosewater still hadn’t lost sight of her ultimate objective, even if he had, briefly, succumbed to the fear that she would be taken from him with their love so new.

“Aye, my lady. I believe the riverwalk would be a good place to be seen.” Coat glanced at Collar. “That is the reason you’ve been accompanying her? You and Cloudy? To get our ponies used to seeing her in companionable company?”

“It is.”

“Then I’ll gladly be a part of this conspiracy, but you will owe me, and Thistle will grill me greatly tonight on just what she’s like in person.” He cocked his head. “How much can I tell him?”

Rosewater glanced at Collar, brow raised.

My call. Collar closed his eyes. I either trust my friend and his husband… “Everything, Coat. Thistle knows how to keep quiet. And Coat?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

The afternoon was cooler than it had been when Rosewater had entered, and the smell of snow lingered on the air, far away still, but close enough to chill her heart. A part of her yearned for the winters spent in her private exile, holed away in her estate with her daughter beside her in warmth and comfort, but this year was going to be different. Had to be different. The northern snows this year threatened to smother what had been kindled.

“Stay safe,” Collar whispered, his muzzle too close to her lips to be merely friendly. “Please. I can’t lose you.”

It was risky to say that in the open, but they were moving on. They were, and Rosewater needed to let go of her fear of what might happen next. They were planning, and had plans. This was happening, and the gala was coming when she would all but tell the world she was in love.

“You won’t. I’m telling Seed and Petal everything I’ve told you. We’re going to be making the same plans.”

“Good.” Collar backed up and glanced over his shoulder to where Wing and his wife, Down, looked on with disapproving stares, far enough away that they couldn’t hear their conversation. “It looks like you’ll have more fun than I will. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Collar gave Coat a nod and backed away. “Take care of her, Coat. I’m placing her care in your hooves, and trust you know the trouble we’ll be in if there’s an incident while she’s on her way home.”

The gate closed behind them, and Coat started down the way, then stopped at the base of the stairs, watching her as she made her way down, her eyes scanning the city, each step careful and deliberate. This might be her morning view some day, and most of the time, she’d been in a hurry to leave, but the view from here, close to the start of the foothills of the Crystal Mountains, she could look over almost the entire city.

Smoke rose from dozens of chimneys, carried away to the southeast by the breeze that had changed while she’d been inside. By tonight, it would be the first real snow that might have a chance to stick around for more than half a day. Then, if the pattern held, they’d have a few warm weeks, enough to cover the Gala and beyond.

Coat waited patiently for her peaceful musings, a wavering smile waiting for her. “Are you ready, my lady?”

“I am.” She let the silence hang for a few steps, then cleared her throat, and added, “I understand you’re a regular guard for my cousin.”

“I-I am,” Coat said, clearing his throat. “She’s… not like you at all.” He winced. “Not… she’s warm and personable. From all I’ve seen of you, you’re more distant.”

“Out of necessity. I want to stop that, Coat. I want to be open and honest with everyone, but I don’t know how to start with your ponies. I’ve tried to be… me. I’m sure your husband could tell you all the rumors of how I’m happy when I’m with Collar and Cloudy on our walks.”

“He could, and has. He gathers gossip like a dragon gathers gold. Most of what I’ve heard of you is disjointed, but the way Collar acts around you tells me more than rumors ever could, and the way Rosemary talks about you…”

“She talks about me?” Rosewater asked, brow raised.

“Of course. It’s clear she loves you like a mother.” Coat flicked his ears. “What you say is one thing. What she says…”

Silence came over them again as they made their way into the streets, following the early-afternoon flow roughly towards the Primrose Bridge. At least until he took a side-street with only a few ponies arranging crates into a cart alongside one of the businesses.

“Where are we going?” Rosewater asked, her familiarity with the city at night giving her less insight as to where she actually was than she would have thought. Most of these little streets were where she hid, but she’d only rarely been here to see what little shops and places were here and there. “The bridge is that way.”

“Of course,” Coat said, his smile growing. “It takes courage to walk these streets as you have, Rosewater. I can respect that, though I don’t understand it. Enlighten me and I’ll show you around a little. A sanctioned tour, as it were.”

The ears of the ponies around them seemed to perk up. “That seems a poor payment for a guided tour. Zephyrine charges a silver buckle for a tour of Merrie of our tourists.”

“Ah, but knowledge is priceless.” He chewed his lip for a moment. “I hear a lot of stories about you, but all stories have two sides. You don’t seem to be such an awful pony as the stories say. I want to hear your side. It’s one of the reasons why Thistle never shares gossip. He likes to listen, to gather it all to him until he knows the truth. Then he tells that.”

“Wise of him,” Rosewater mused, glancing aside at him. “And wise of you to listen to him. You have some of the Primline in you, do you not?”

“Primline Gown, yes. The tallest of her generation.” Coat chuckled and rolled a shoulder. “My grandmother married short, my mother shorter still, and my Thistle is shorter than I by at least two hooves, though he doesn’t complain.”

“I’m sure not,” Rosewater said with a chuckle. “And this is the reason I walk the streets, Coat. I want to talk with ponies, not have them shy away from me, not… be terrifying anymore. It’s not me. It never was.”

Coat, as if understanding the role he had chosen, nodded solemnly. “Then… what was?”

“A sister to that brilliant young mare you’re guarding,” Rosewater said, giving Coat a wink, “the daughter of one of the kindest ponies I know, the heart of our home. Not Roseate. I stopped thinking of her as my mother as soon as she told me to ‘grow up’ and act like an adult. The very morning after my father had died in front of me.”

That seemed to genuinely shock Coat for the first time since just a few minutes ago. “What? Stars, what?”

“It’s the truth. Before a few days ago, I saw it as my shame, Coat. That if I had been… more. I could have saved him, could have done something. But there was nothing.” It felt… freeing to share it. The pain wasn’t gone, but she could hold it and the events apart from each other. She didn’t need to succumb to them both at once. “I feel like… I was that filly for too long, Coat. Scared, afraid of what my mother, my birth mother, would do to me if I didn’t obey. But… I found happiness with my family.”

Silence punctuated by murmurs around them, along with the occasional muttering of Rose Terror, filled the next few blocks. Coat watched her, and the road, and the ponies around them, his ears flicking to follow threads of drifting conversations.

“I hid myself away after I fought for that little sliver of happiness, my cousin, and the life we had forged together as friends. As… as a small bit of family.” She glanced aside to see Coat’s incredulous look had turned somber. “And now… I finally see that I was going about it wrong. Capitulating, obeying, wasn’t ever going to make her leave me alone. Being my own pony is the way to go. So… here I am. Trying to be me.”

“You lost a lot, didn’t you?” He eyed her for a long moment, then smiled when she nodded. “I see.” He lifted five bits from his guard’s hauberk. “I’ll bet you five bits I can get somepony to talk to you before we reach the bridge.”

“Oh?” She looked around, ponies looking everywhere but at her as her gaze passed over them, then focusing exclusively on her as soon as they thought she wasn’t looking anymore. “You’re on.”

Collar rubbed at his temples and leaned back in his chair. The talk with Wing and Down had stayed mostly on topic to this point, their worries about those that followed their lead having to do more with the harvest, both of crops and of lumber, and the taxes paid to the Crown in Canterlot for the portions of their goods that travelled across Equestrian borders.

Down, the financial mind of the family, had brought a list of discrepancies that she was certain were errors in recording of the goods, that he was almost certain were before and after Lace’s concession from the Treaty office to lower tariffs on both sides. Still, he’d have to pass it by the Trade office, and Priceless, to validate the values.

It was probably a waste of time. But nothing would upset his ponies more than a story of careless waste and overpayment. They wouldn’t care about who was who.

“I’ll let you know as soon as Priceless and his office have had a chance to look over the figures,” he said, tucking the papers back into the folio Down had helpfully provided. “Thank you for providing dates and bills of lading, as well, that will help me get away from the meeting without my ears ringing.”

Down gave him a thin smile. “I’m certain you will look after our best interests.”

“All of our best interests. The entire city. We’re worried about the rumors we’re hearing about your most recent trysts with Rosewater through the city.”

Collar stared at him, uncertain if he’d heard the stallion properly. “You brought this to my attention already, and I addressed your concerns then. We’re friends, Wing. She’s a remarkable mare.”

“And that is why we’re concerned,” Down said. “You’re acting like she’s not the enemy that has—”

“She was a soldier, Down. Your son would understand what that means. You do the difficult things because your sovereign ordered you to. Your son stood with us when we faced down Roseate’s ambush, and Rosewater couldn’t stand by anymore.” Collar shook his head. “Even if she said she was doing it because she had decided to court me, and was protecting her interest, the end result was the same. I’m free of mind because of her.”

“So she has—”

“Of course she rutting has,” Collar snapped when Wing started to go over the same pavement again. “She’s made no secret of it. But behind that is a mare who is coming to know who she is and what she is worth. She’s interesting, Wing, and we’ve found a stable friendship in our negotiations.” Collar stood up from his desk and straightened the stack of folios. “We’re done, unless you have business to discuss, and not nattering about relationships.”

Down’s pale coat, said to be a throwback to Frosty Rosewing, flushed across her cheeks. “You are playing with a fire you can’t possibly know.”

“I can, because it has happened before. Frosty, your ancestor—”

Wing slammed a hoof on the floor. “You will not bring that—”

“Shut up! Both of you!” Down shouted, her cheeks flushed, her wings half-arched. “Frosty Rosewing was a mare in the wrong life. She came to the Tussen Twee, she expunged her shame after a time. I am not ashamed to count one of the rulers of Damme among my ancestors. And you, Lord Collar, will not presume to lecture me about my own ancestors.”

Collar, having Frosty’s own accounting if he wished to ask his mother for it, was certain that he could lecture her, but he kept his tongue. “I apologize, Down. The Rosewing family is a right and honorable family, however small it has grown. I am glad to see it continue in some way in you and your children. And I am glad to eventually contribute to its continuance.”

Both of them glowered at him, and Collar just barely managed not to gloat over the minor victory Down had just given him on a gilded platter.

“I believe that’s all for our business today,” Collar said softly after a few breaths.

Down jerked her head in a nod. “I expect results by the end of the week, my lord. Our ponies are looking to us to ensure that they receive every bit and buckle they’re due.”

“And I assure you that they will get all they’re due, down to every copper buckle. But understand that Priceless and the factors will follow the law and the Treaty.”

When they were gone, with more mutterings about bits and buckles, Collar withdrew his own flask of brandy, borrowed from his mother, and a clean tumbler from a drawer.

“Now I know why you have such a variety, mother,” Collar murmured as he sipped and sent his thoughts after Rosewater, hoping that she was safe.

The street Coat took her to was worryingly familiar to her as Rosetide. It was lined with mane salons, hooficure stalls set up along the row advertising winter hoof treatments with magic and potion soaks to harden them against the chill. Ponies sat and chatted, the conversations stalling and petering out or switching track as Rosewater and Coat strode by.

It was just before lunchtime, so the street was packed with ponies taking a break from jobs or taking a day off to handle their beautification. It usually was whenever she’d made her trips as Rosetide as well, it being easier to escape suspicion in a crowd as a pair of ponies rather than one tall pony alone, even with her illusions.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Mmm. You know I love your manecut, and those ribbons are even better. Some of those looks aren’t only because you’re who you are, but that and what you’re wearing.” Coat fairly pranced ahead, forcing Rosewater to increase her pace to a slow trot after him. “Come, come.”

“You’re rigging the bet, aren’t you?” Rosewater hissed as she caught up to him.

“Rigging the bet?” Coat laughed loud and deeply. “Stars, no. I’m merely tipping the odds in my favor.”

You want this. She did want to talk to somepony in Damme besides her new family without them scared out of their coats. “Fine. Let’s see just how much you tip the odds. I’ll choose to trust you.”

He led her to one of the mane salons towards the middle of the row, Prim Cut and Shine Mane Salon. It was one of her regular stops as Rosetide, and she could recite the regular order the two ponies who ran the shop normally made. From Roseling, a crate of coconut cream coat scrub, a half crate of sandalwood solid mane shampoo bars, and two jars of a cream and orange shampoo; mostly simple, low-profile scents that the scent-averse ponies of Damme used to at least cover up their body odor.

They still bought the scents of ponies in Merrie, and pretended they were locally sourced as natural alternatives to letting their natural musks take over. It was something every civilized pony did, however much they had to dance around the idea of using ‘scent magic.’

There were a few local scenters that didn’t use magic, but they tended to make lower quality, if naturally sourced, scents. It was something that Merriers had started, of course, ponies that knew a little about scent creation, and wanted to try out the practice as a hobby and within the confines of Merrie’s laws.

Inside, half a dozen ponies sat at mirrors while pegasi, unicorns, and earth ponies plied their skills on manes, coats, and tails with specially designed scissors, brushes, and combs for ponies without the use of telekinetic magic.

It was a normal salon, and not the type of place that Rosewater regularly visited. Rosewater had managed her own mane for the last six years, for the most part, and had only visited a salon twice in that time, both times before an event in the hopes of finding somepony to ease the loneliness.

Stepping into one across the river brought back some of those memories.

The lively conversations slowed to a stop as whispers replaced them before Coat stepped out in front of her.

“Cut!” He yelled, “Little brother!”

“Stars!” came a call from the back, “can’t you make an appointment like a normal—” Cut, one of Rosewater’s customers, stepped into view and stopped. With both of them to compare, it was easy to see the family resemblance. “Coat, what in the stars?”

“I brought you a new customer, Cut,” Coat said, winking at Rosewater. “A high profile customer.”

“You could say that,” Cut said in a droll voice, then glanced around his salon. “Not to worry, friends. She’s treaty-bonded, as you can see.”

“I am,” Rosewater said in her best gentle voice. “I wanted to have Coat give me a tour of the city. And, well, the gala is coming up, and I thought… how better to show that I love Damme than to have my mane styled by my tour guide’s own brother?”

“I-indeed!” Coat proclaimed loudly, laughing. “The gala.”

Cut peered at his brother, his ears flattening as the whispers started again around them. “And how, pray tell, did… she know that you have a brother who styles manes, who just happened to be working today?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell her. She figured it out. Familial resemblance and all.”

“Or,” Rosewater said, chancing a show of friendship and sidestepping to bump shoulders with Coat, “when you called him ‘little brother.’”

Cut narrowed his eyes, but not at Rosewater. “You made a bet, didn’t you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you. Because I know if, given the opportunity to make a bet, you will make that bet. What was it?”

“Cut, come on. I just brought you a customer. Please… please don’t make this awkward for her. She’s already had a rough day.”

For a moment, Cut considered Rosewater, his expression softening, but he turned his glower back on his older brother before he said a word to her. “Tell me, or I’ll tell Thistle before you can make it back home.”

“It was—” Rosewater started.

“My lady, please. This is between me and my brother.”

Wordlessly, Rosewater pulled out five golden bits and passed them to Coat, barely able to hold back a smile.

“Rosewater!” Coat hissed, not taking the coins.

“Bet paid in full, Coat. I keep my promises.”

Cut glanced at her, then back at his brother, and dissolved into giggles and snickers, leaning against his brother and hooking a foreleg around his neck.

Sullenly, Coat took the bits and stowed them, looking as though he’d lost the bet. “I was wrong. You are sinister.”

“N-no she isn’t,” Cut got out through straining laughter, choking the words out between fits. “Stars, the l-look on your face!”

A few more moments laughing at his brother’s expense, and Cut straightened, snickering, and held out a hoof. “Thank you, my lady. It’s not often I get to see that sour look when he wins. What was the bet?”

“He would get somepony to talk to me before I left for the day,” Rosewater said, the bet suddenly sounding like a pathetic attempt to be social. “I apologize, Cut. I didn’t mean to have your business disrupted by my presence.”

Cut glanced around, the customers all watching the exchange, but his staff were going about their business with the same efficiency they had before. They had jobs to do, and a little thing like the visiting enemy heiress shouldn’t disrupt that—not when she was peace-bonded.

“My lady, the only thing that will happen is a little more gossip will spread out from here. Let me at least make up for my brother’s callous use of your time. Unless you have someplace you need to be?”

Need to be? Rosewater shook her head slightly, and said, “Nowhere I need to be, no. The rest of my day was going to be spent getting ready for the Gala. Making sure that…” She shook out her mane. “My mane was ready, and my tail, and my dress.”

Cut gave Coat a look, then returned his attention to Rosewater and gestured for her to follow him. “Then there is one thing I can help you with. How long has it been since you’ve seen a professional stylist?”

Rosewater blinked. “Long enough. Why?”

“Well, all style gossip comes through here eventually, even that from Merrie by one means or another.” Cut cast a spell on a space in front of a full body mirror and cleaned away a few stray clippings from the neighboring styling stall. “And I’ve not heard much about you save that beautiful blue in your mane from the Commoner’s Gala last week.”

“At least a year,” Rosewater said softly, wincing. “I’ve managed it myself, and with the help of my, um… my niece. Sister. Charge. Rosemary.” She felt her cheeks heating. Why don’t I just start calling her my daughter everywhere? The answer, of course, was simple. Because none of the three sisters she’d given the secret to as an out had told her they’d used it, nor had Roseate tried to come down on her like a shipload of bricks for lying about their relationship for so long. “She’s made sure I don’t look like a spinster.”

“She’s done a passable job,” Cut said, untying the big ribbon, “and you seem to have a handle on basic styling. Very nice looking, but I think we can do more with it.”

“Cut,” Coat protested, stepping up close. “I’m supposed to take her directly to the treaty office!”

“Nonsense.” Cut clucked his tongue and began undoing the rest of the ribbons. “These are truly beautiful fabric, Rosewater, may I call you that?”

“It would be my pleasure if you did, Cut. And thank you. I had them sourced from a fabric supplier in Damme. I’ve been assured it’s the only place I can get true Damme blue.” Rosewater held one of the ribbons in a spell, idly tying it into a loose bow around an imaginary lock of mane.

“True enough, true enough. You must have gotten it from True Blue Fabrics. They’re the official supplier for Prim Palace.”

“I… can’t recall if that was the place my supplier mentioned, but if that’s the only place, then… that’s the only place.”

After he was done untying them, Cut fluffed out her mane and leaned in to get a sniff, then clucked his tongue. “You came without any scents at all? That’s mighty unusual.”

“I didn’t want to seem disrespectful.”

A whisper came to her ears, then, straining already to overhear conversations while Coat grumbled to himself in the corner.

“Is that really the Rose Terror? She doesn’t sound anything like the rumors.”

“It can’t be her. Her twin sister?”

“She doesn’t have a twin sister, dolt. It has to be her.”

Cut smiled at her in the mirror, flicking an ear. “You do well to respect our culture, Rosewater, but even we like to scent our manes a little bit, otherwise we end up smelling a little too… au naturale. Come with me. We’ll get you a proper mane and coat wash, then we’ll see what we can do to your mane and tail. Oh! And you’ll have to tell me about your dress.”

“Stars… I am so getting demoted for this,” Coat grumbled as he followed along.

“Bet you won’t,” Rosewater shot back over her shoulder.

He only glowered at her, a twinkle in his eyes as Cut broke into another fit of laughter.

Author's Note

An important emotional and outlook change for everyone. Takes place over a few days, eating up a little more time until the Gala. There's two more chapters before the Gala chapters start.