Eyes.

They followed her as she walked down the long hall she’d walked so many times before, but never before as an openly invited guest, never before with so many strangers watching her, and only recently with Collar at her side. Before this moment, she wouldn’t have imagined how very light it felt to openly display her interest in Collar.

“If we kissed right here, how many do you think would faint outright?” Rosewater whispered.

Collar barked a laugh and nudged her shoulder. “Most of them? Stars. I’m tempted to try it just to get a count.”

Except tonight was about pageantry, showing that they worked together, that they enjoyed each other’s company to more ponies than the few that watched them. It was about telling both cities in unequivocal terms that they were in love and weaving a narrative that supported it rather than shocking ponies.

There was a side to the argument saying that kissing, shocking ponies, then laughing and prancing up to the ballroom would tell the same thing in a far more playful way. Or it’d be taken as a joke, and discounted, weakening the play they were making.

“Let’s not,” Rosewater said softly, nudging his shoulder back. “I want tonight to be… natural. Feel natural.”

“Feeling natural…” Collar sighed and glanced over the watching merchants and nobility sniffing the wares but truly watching them in the minutes before the gala started officially. “I know this is a rushed plan, but telling ponies here feels as natural a place to do it as possible.”

Rosewater pursed her lips and nodded, raising her head to look up as she started the climb up to the ballroom and the guard waiting for them. “Announce us together?” Rosewater asked, a flutter in her stomach rising and falling as she asked and considered the suggestion.

“Yes,” Collar said more firmly, offering her a sidelong smile. “Together. A hint of what’s to come.”

Over the last few steps, the butterflies disappeared as the guards on the doors in their finest uniforms watched them, studied them without any seeming to judge her or look on her with either hatred or suspicion. A few were familiar to her, bridge ponies that she’d seen every few days for two months, or ponies that guarded Rosemary’s door. Some of them were unknown, but still held no hatred in their eyes they could see.

“Sergeant,” Rosewater said to one of the ponies she’d seen over and over at the bridges, whose eyes had turned from distrust to, not quite trust, but familiarity. “It’s good to see you again.”

“My lady,” he said, bowing his head, and looking to Collar. “My lord.”

“Announce us both, please,” Collar said, touching his hoof to Rosewater’s. “Tonight, by agreement and accord, we are partners in promoting unity.”

His eyes, and those of at least half of the others that Rosewater could see, opened wide, then settled into a rainbow of expressions from shocked to angry to confused. The rest, either having been closer, or taking some other meaning in his words, merely nodded gravely.

“Of course, my lord, my lady,” he said, bowing, then starting towards the door, asked Collar, “How should I announce you?”

Collar glanced at Rosewater. “My lady?”

She could see the looks in their eyes, the look that said, ‘what can you do in one night?’

“Please, announce us as the Lord and Lady Heirs, Primline Collar and Rosewater Rosethorn,” Rosewater said, standing up straighter and raising her head. “We’re together tonight, as he said, in promoting unity between our cities as an example of what we can accomplish together.”

The stallion stood, eyes wide, and glanced at Collar, swallowing. “My lord?”

“As Lady Rosewater said,” Collar replied, smiling. “Unless there’s anything else?”

Rosewater smiled more brightly and glanced at Collar’s crownless head. He had one, but he never actually wore it. “Actually… one more thing.”

Despite the enforced mixing of the few vendors dressed in their finery with food presented as prettily as if it were about to grace the table of Princess Celestia herself, the traditional sides still formed, the blue carpet covering the center of the ballroom the point across which none of her fellow Merrie nobles nor the Dammer nobles crossed. Even when they’d come in, the few that followed her and her mother, every noble and guest had split around the blue ‘rock’ in the center like a divided stream and settled into a metastable mass either against the bare stone wall or against the bank of windows.

Silk stood uneasily at the center of the floodwaters of pink and red and all manner of carmine and colors in between, waiting for the difference to come and either remove the barrier or make such a splash that neither side could avoid mixing. Roseate didn’t know what manner of dress she’d made for Rosewater, didn’t know how much of a splash the dress would make, or what they would do.

All she knew was that Rosewater was making a play. What she wanted to do with what Silk had made for her, she had no idea, but she was proud of her work nonetheless and excited to see it as more than a glimpse behind her in the distance. Even Roseate had glimpsed it but deigned not to slow down to let her catch up.

Not that either Crown or Silk had thought to make the suggestion. She’d announced her intention as if they had.

“She’s not behaving like she’s a part of the family anymore, so let her be alone.”

Crown was still missing from the crowd, but she’d made some small excuse about trying to find a book she’d started but not finished when last kept captive. She and the nervous audiomancer Note had disappeared into the lower levels of the east wing, and Roseate’s smile had grown cruel and victorious for only a few moments before it’d wiped itself away into the same cold, stoic visage she wore.

It gave Silk great satisfaction to know that Crown was almost as gentle as Vine in her own way. If there was something between her and Note, it wasn’t malicious, and it would not serve Roseate’s ends, no matter what it looked like to her.

The Knights of the Sun arrived after only a few minutes, both of them looking radiant and, to some extent, more there than they had been before, though why that would be escaped her for the moment. Then came two mares looking nervous and following the knights, announced as Fervent Wish and Golden Glow, obviously married, but also just as obviously not Merriers or Dammers.

They didn’t follow the same pattern and dart to one side or another, but stuck close to the knights, who made their way to the head of what had once been the throne of Damme, and now served as music stand and speaking dais where Baroness Lace and Baron Dapper held court with a few Dammers seeming nervous to even be so close.

Not even the Primfeathers had made that journey.

Then came a nervous looking stallion with the Primfeather markings that stopped, his wings rustling, and seemed to try and decide which direction he wanted to dart. Handsome, but… it was inevitable. He followed what must have been his parents to the Prim side of the room.

“We should have kept that stallion longer,” Roseate muttered under her breath, glancing at where the stallion was still speaking with Dapper and Lace. “He could tell us who that is.”

“I sent him away because he was starting to pester me,” Silk said with a sigh. “That last comment about my dress was below the pale.”

“You are too sensitive about your appearance.” Roseate nudged her lightly with a spell. “Go fetch us some wine. And see if you can find out who that is. He’s entirely too nervous for my taste.”

For an instant, Silk considered refusing, then glanced at where Coat was speaking still to Lace and Dapper. It would be easier than listening to her mother gripe about everything and point out targets for potential ‘acquisition.’

“Of course, mother.”

As she crossed the ballroom, making her way to the sole wine stand, managed by two familiar faces closer to the centerline of the front of the ballroom than most others. They were easy to reach for both sides with only a little crossing of lines. Their counterparts on the other side of the entryway, selling Dammerale by tiny quantities in the same way the wine was being sold, shared the responsibility of keeping the ballroom’s tongues wet and encouraged them to wag.

As tempting as it would be to bring her mother a dark Dammerale and keep the wine to herself, or to get herself an ale just to tweak her mother’s nose, it would probably backfire and leave her with more of a headache than if she’d just followed her mother’s instructions. It was how Roseate got her way most of the time.

“Cousin,” Silk said, bowing her head sliding up to the cloth-covered counter looking not unlike any bar in Merrie.

“Silk,” Seed said cooly.

Stars. We’re supposed to… Silk glanced away, trying to hide the hurt. She had no animosity towards him, and was actually grateful that he’d managed to draw Rosewater back out, even if most of what he’d done had seemed to be supporting her rather than actively dragging her out of her home. Roseate had been the impetus of her own downfall.

To her surprise, Seed coughed and offreed, “You’ve outdone yourself again.” He glanced towards the doors, then back to her. “I believe Crown was coming, no?”

“She wanted to make an impression on somepony,” Silk said in a low voice, offering a tidbit in return for the laurel, then went one step further. “I can only hope she has.”

“She mentioned something similar before,” Seed said, raising a glass lazily with a dark red wine with a sweet, heady bouquet. “Tending to a love she hoped would bloom, I believe.” His eyes glittered as a panic shot through Silk’s heart. If Roseate heard, she’d… no. He couldn’t know. Not truly. “Happy gardening, no?”

He didn’t know. Or he did and he’d offered it as a laurel to let her know he could be trusted. Petal was tending to trying to entice a pegasus over to sample a vintage, barely paying attention to them.

“Happy gardening indeed,” Silk said, shaking her head and nodding to the glass. “That vintage has a lovely fragrance.” She risked a closer look at Petal, who still wasn’t paying her any attention. “May I? Two glasses, please.”

That neither seemed to know who the pegasus was that Petal was cajoling, she pushed that back down. She wouldn’t find out his name or anything about him from Seed, even if he didn’t figure out who she was asking for.

Still, he caught her look. “Oh, we’ll leave her to tempt another palate, I think.” Seed poured two glasses for her with a wink. “If I can sleep while standing, I’m sure I can manage to pour wine.”

He hadn’t figured out the meaning of her look. Still, it hurt to think he’d thought she’d been demeaning his ability to pour wine. She winced to play to the implied insult, and was surprised when it actually hurt to have him think she’d belittled him. She took a breath to push it away.

“Silk, I’m—”

“It’s fine, Seed,” she said, playing to the mask that was all-too easy to put on. “Past wounds do sneak out in humor sometimes, no?”

Silk sipped quietly at her wine and watched as the sluggishly moving banks of the invisible river in the middle of the room shrank a little, then grew as the pegasus came a little closer, then back as a few other ponies that were eying the wine stand made an almost move towards them.

“Enjoy, cousin,” Seed said with a small smile. “We look forward to seeing you again this winter.”

She gave him a bright smile and bobbed her head. “I, as well. My compliments to your wife and her vineyard.” With another glance towards the pegasus she was supposed to get information on, she shook her head, sighed, and smiled again, hoping he would understand. “And all under her employ.”

He didn’t seem to in the brief instant she held his gaze before she lifted the other glass from the counter and returned to her mother’s side.

She gave him a wan smile and saluted with one of the two glasses before heading back to her mother’s side.

“Anything?” Roseate demanded.

“None. They’ve no idea who he is aside from a stallion who doesn’t hate Roses with an unreasonable passion.” Silk rolled a shoulder and sipped from her wine, watching as the young pegasus approached the counter. “I don’t recognize him either, from up closer.”

“Pity.” Roseate glanced at the door again, frowning at the activity there as a guard spoke with the majordomo. “Rosewater was just behind us, wasn’t she?”

“I thought so. She must have stopped and let the knights go ahead.” Silk shrugged and sipped her wine and tried not to think about her mother’s reaction to the dress she’d made. That would be its own can of worms. Her only hope was that when she made the splash, it would draw attention away from her role in it.

“Announcing the Lord and Lady heirs, Primline Collar and Rosewater Rosethorn.”

Roseate stiffened.

Silk’s heart sank and flew as the doors opened wider and together Rosewater and Collar stepped out into the view of everypony. He, in his Dammeguard finery, complete with a circlet he had not worn for the greetings, golden and simple, with only a little ornamentation behind his ears for the wings of Damme etched out with either blue enamel or small sapphire chips.

He stood on the Merrie side, and half-blocked their view of Rosewater, but not the silver crown on her head, nor the glittering tricolor ornament declaring her interest in Damme, nor the style of her mane, a surprise to even Silk; blue and pink bound together against white, the colors of Merrie and Damme united.

It was similarly hard to miss the throbbing vein on Roseate’s brow, or the way her ears had all but disappeared into her mane, and if it hadn’t been for the spell keeping her crown of rulership in place, it would have slipped to hang loose on her horn.

“That… traitor,” Roseate hissed between clenched teeth.

Where did she get that crown? Was all Silk could think as Lace made her way down from the dais to greet them halfway on the central circle of thick carpet, as Roseate stalked forward, leaving Silk to her own devices. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the explosion that was sure to come.

The Knights approaching as well at least promised that, whatever did happen, it would be kept mostly civil.

“Good luck, dear sister,” Silk whispered, and ducked back into the crowd of Merriers inching forward to get a closer look at what looked like it was going to be the main attraction for the night.

The weight of the crown felt strange on Collar’s head, the spells woven into the metal keeping it centered on his horn as ancient as the keep around him, before it had become a palace. It had other spells woven into it, for durability and preservation, unlike Rosewater’s entirely unenchanted diadem.

He truly hoped nothing would happen to it. It was beautiful, and he could only imagine how many favors she’d had to call in to have it made in time for tonight. She hadn’t even mentioned it to him before, unless she’d wanted it as a surprise for him. Having it unenchanted was clever, though, if it was intentional.

It was also drawing the eye of Roseate as she stalked across the floor towards them, her eyes blazing and no doubt promising retribution as soon as she got within range of her daughter.

“I’ll handle her,” Collar said, turning his head to almost kiss her ear. “You handle greeting Wing and Down.”

“Agreed. I’m sorry,” she whispered back, nosing his cheek before turning away to start towards the Primfeathers.

They hadn’t planned it, aside from putting Collar between her and her mother to keep her from simply attacking her directly and needing, by the propriety of the gala and social custom, to greet him first. It would also, subtly, push them into each other’s roles.

As they split, so did his parents and the two Knights. Firelight and Lace’s paths joined his as he set his path to intercept Roseate, and he saw the hatred in her eyes as she realized the trap he’d suckered her into.

Far more polite than your traps, but in this setting, no less effective.

She didn’t abandon her approach, nor did she try and avoid him. Instead, she gave him the chilliest smile he’d ever seen another pony give him and marched right up to him.

“My lady,” Collar said, dipping his head in a brief bow and flicking a look at the wineglass held in her magic. “I trust that you’re finding the accommodations and concessions to your liking?”

“The bouquet is passable, but nothing like what we have served in the Rose Palace,” Roseate said in the most demeaning ‘pleasant’ voice he’d ever heard. “It tastes like common tavern wine.”

“Pity. I’m told that the suppliers recently were the chiefest supplier of the Rose Palace, and they provided me with samples of their vintages they would be bringing.” Collar shrugged. The samples had arrived two days ago, single small bottles of wine he imagined they used for carrying samples around, and he’d taken them to enjoy with Rosemary and Cloudy in a calm night of talking and planning. He’d sent back an ‘all approved’ message the very next morning. “I found not a one that I didn’t like.”

“Perhaps the lord’s palate isn’t as refined as mine. Dammerale has an effect on the taste.”

“Mayhap,” Collar agreed genially. “I do enjoy a good Dammerale, but tonight I promised myself I’d enjoy only the product of Merrie.”

“Including my daughter?”

“Excuse me?” Collar asked, feigning ignorance.

Roseate glowered at him and shot a glance towards Lace and Firelight. “If you’re leading my daughter on with this… display, I will have my retribution.”

Collar laughed, short and sharp, he couldn’t help it, and continued in a low, harsh whisper, “My lady, whether or not I break her heart tonight is none of your business, nor do I believe that you have anything but hope that I will break it.” As his mother came closer, he lowered a glowing shield around him and the ruler of Merrie, blocking out sound to have a private word. “I know you. Everything in our files about you and more. Do you think Cloudy kept secret how you tried to use her? Do you think our spies haven’t heard enough of your cruelty towards your own children?”

Roseate glanced past him, and Collar followed her gaze briefly to see Lace and Firelight waiting a polite distance away. The faux concern faded into a mask of flat stone. She considered him for a long moment as if weighing his worth or testing his mettle with her silence. “What price would you demand to put her aside?”

Collar considered her for as long as it took to control his disgust and rage, to make sure that, when he spoke, it wasn’t a shout. That was her game. Goading him to do something rash. When he’d mastered his emotions, hopeful that he hadn’t shown them to her, he shrugged and said, “Give me the moon, the sun, and the stars, then we’ll talk. Oh, and Celestia’s throne, too. That will be quite the wedding gift for Cloudy.”

Roseate snorted. “It wasn’t an offer made in jest, boy.”

“Then give me some indication of how valuable it is to you. You have all night to think it over.” Collar shrugged and stepped away. “I’m not bargaining for ephemeral goods without a bottom line. Think on it, Roseate.”

He let the barrier fall before she could answer and let the sound of the crowd back in. Rosewater seemed to be doing well on her own with Dapper behind their own sound barrier with the Primfeathers.

“I trust you were civil, Roseate,” Lace said as she joined the conversational circle. “I’ll not tolerate uncivil behavior at the gala.”

“Perfectly,” Collar answered for her before she could more than open her mouth. “We were discussing a potential business arrangement for Dammerale. It seems the Rosewine has gone sour to her taste.”

“Oh?” Lace lifted her head to glance at the Rosewine table. “I have heard that sampling the same vintage over and over can leave one’s tongue bland to it. Not that I’ve experienced that myself, understand.”

“I’ve a few bottles of Rosewine Cabernet at the office,” Firelight said. “Along with a standing order for a Dammerale every third night at the ‘Tap. It’s good to mix and match throughout the week.”

“Wine does keep better, longer,” Collar said with a roll of a shoulder. “Without going bad. I did very much enjoy the wine samplers they sent, and I’m eager to get Rosewater’s opinion of them and share my favorites.”

Roseate all but vibrated where she stood.

“Didn’t Rosemary give you some suggestions?” Lace asked, raising a brow. “I did stipulate that aiding you would reduce her herdgild.”

“By a pittance,” Collar said with a sigh. “She did agree with me on my favorites, but she didn’t assist me with choosing which to choose.” The taste of some of the sweeter vintages had been especially sweet on her lips.

“Lower her herdgild?” Roseate demanded, fixating on what Lace had offered. “How can you lower her herdgild. They are set by law. Sir Firelight, I object to—”

“You misunderstand,” Lace said, breaking in smoothly with a sharply tapped hoof. “Lowering by earning a wage towards the base amount. And Collar is quite correct. We pay our serving staff five bits a day. She worked for… an hour? Two?”

“Two,” Collar agreed. “And was paid five silver buckles in recompense. The treaty is quite exacting on what labor can be expected of a prisoner after that… unfortunate incident a century and a half ago.”

“They are quite correct,” Firelight said, bobbing his head. “They are required to pay their prisoners for any actual, useful work that they do. Even turning rocks into smaller rocks is useful for the making of cement. I will not hear your objections, Lady Rosethorn, as they are baseless.”

“And if my daughter is offering herself or her services for payment of the herdgild? How does that comply with the terms of the treaty?”

Collar seethed and wanted nothing more than to eject her from the gala—something he couldn’t do even if he wanted to. Only Firelight could kick her out.

“What services, Lady Rosethorn, are you hinting at?” Firelight asked, his brow raised. “Are you accusing her of spying? That’s considered an act of war, and isn’t allowed while negotiating as an act of bad faith.”

For a moment Roseate seemed about to do just that.

“Trust me,” Collar said drily just before she seemed ready to pop. “The last thing we want to talk about is you and your actions, Roseate. It’s your actions and orders that put her cousin—”

There, Roseate smirked, a motion of her lips so quick and so quickly smoothed over, he almost missed it.

“—in this situation. Getting her out of it doesn’t involve you at all. It involves bits, commerce, and negotiation.”

“And she’s so devoted to showing her cousin support that she comes here, in that dress, in that crown, all but declaring she’s going to court you, and you ask me to believe that your negotiations are for bits?”

“I can assure you—” Firelight started.

“I don’t care,” Roseate snapped. “It’s clear the law means little to any of you. I’ll be filing a petition with Princess Celestia.” She turned and stalked away before Collar could even think of a rebuttal to the baseless accusation.

Firelight sighed. “We know the details, my lord. As does the Princess. It’s a standing order of hers to have any high ranking nobility negotiations reported to her. Glory and Crown got the same treatment.”

“Very understandable and prudent,” Lace agreed. “I remember you mentioning something to that order when you were first stationed here, and your predecessor mentioned the same.”

To keep us honest? Or hoping for a breakthrough? Collar nodded. “It’s a wise policy. Though, I am curious, if we had captured Rosewater or Roseate, would we have been able to negotiate Merrie’s surrender?”

“Doubtful. Especially with her.” Firelight shot a look after Roseate, then blanked his expression. “The rulers of a city are allowed to negotiate for their own return. Primline Cravat was his own negotiator one hundred and seventy-five years ago. Though I do believe that only one other capture of a ruler was accomplished, but during the bloody years.”

“Darling Rosewing,” Collar said somberly. “Yes. It was… it was a dark day for Damme when we executed her.” He closed his eyes. “The only good thing that came out of her death was the end of the bloodshed, two weeks later.”

Firelight grunted. “She told me about the end before she sent me here. Blood for blood. Retribution unending. Your ancestors were going to leave nothing but ruins.” He swallowed lowered, lowered his voice, and leaned forward to whisper, “Collar, please make this work. End the pettiness. Bring your two peoples together.”

Collar worked his jaw, surprised at the open, frank plea from the Knight, and glanced from him to Rosewater standing with four other ponies, regal and tall, standing up to both of the Primfeathers.

“Love will end the hate, Sir Spark. It has already doused it in my own heart. You have my word.” He bobbed his head and made to move between his mother and the knight to go to Rosewater’s rescue. “If you’ll forgive me, I want to be there in case things go south.”

Rosewater steeled herself for the greeting as she moved to intercept the Primfeathers, her smile bright and hopeful for a new hoofhold in a soil she wanted to bring together. Diplomacy, not snark; elegance instead of defensiveness. She was here as a personal guest, as Collar’s personal guest.

“Lord and Lady Primfeather,” Rosewater said demurely, dipping her head towards them in a polite gesture between equals. “It’s a pleasure to see you both here. I hope, sincerely, that our last meeting doesn’t tinge tonight.”

Down glanced at her husband before answering, her face a carefully schooled mask of dispassionate coolness. “Lady Rosewater. Never did I think to see you gowned, even partially, in the colors of Damme. Is this some play of yours to get closer to Collar?”

It was an effort not to react other than to smile. “It’s a sign of solidarity with Damme. We want to be one city, one society. We can’t do that if we’re always at each others’ throats, can we? And somepony needs to take that first step.”

“And you are that pony, then?” Wing asked, his droll tone mocking in its dryness. “The Rose Terror, greatest raider in a hundred years, even despite Lady Lace’s disastrous insistence on defense. You?”

“Me,” Rosewater said more stiffly. “I never wanted the war, Wing. I was born to it, just as you were. Just as your children were. To my great chagrin, I have been misled about many things, and while I did my duty as a citizen of Merrie, I will not lean on that as a crutch.” Rosewater took a deep breath, steeled herself, and spoke what her mother would consider treason. “Instead, I would rather treat with you as equals and work to repair the damage I have done. It is the purpose of the treaty, is it not? To make the past the past and stop bringing it to the fore to hurt each other again and again.”

Wing and Down exchanged another look, then glanced at Dapper, standing a short distance away.

“If we may speak frankly,” Wing said after a long silence, “I don’t trust your intentions. Nor do we trust your stated motives in dressing like this.”

“Indeed not,” Down said with a sniff. “It’s clear this is another ploy to get closer to Collar and twist him away from his engagement with Cloudy Rosewing.”

Very much the opposite. Rosewater let her confidence show in her smile as she dipped her head to them. “Then we agree to disagree. My intentions will be made plain through my actions tonight and, I hope, Collar’s through his. We have spent long hours working through what I can offer to pay down my… my cousin’s debt to your society. It’s lesser than mine is, but hers is a formal debt that I can attack directly with bits and promises and liens. Mine, I must approach more subtly, as I’ve no doubt that my crimes, and my station, would beggar Merrie were I to offer herdgild for my payment.”

“Then you admit to crimes against Damme?” Wing asked, sounding incredulous.

“I admit to having been accused of crimes,” Rosewater replied with a slight twist to her lips. “Whether the courts would find me guilty of all that I am accused of… well, I am accused of much that I have not done, nor have the power to do. Spoiled milk and burnt bread are well outside my range of talents.”

Seeming despite himself, Wing smiled wryly. “I don’t doubt that you are capable of burning bread, just as the rest of us are, but ascribing to the supernatural… perhaps you have a point.”

“Wing!”

“We can hardly accuse her of raising the tides early to spite us,” Wing said more calmly, “as I have heard some captains who slept through the dawn claim over an ale. I will even go so far as to admit that your reputation has grown outside the bounds of what a single mare working alone can do.” His eyes flitted to the wine stand.

“They have no part of my crimes,” Rosewater said coolly, too quickly. “I was there to help raise them both when I was younger. They are family to me as my mother is not.”

“But they are your associates, and we know of three former Dammeguard living there, and she stands accused of luring them. Your orders? Orders from Roseate?” Wing shrugged and stepped back, opening the circle to Dapper more clearly. “I can’t say, but I do say that it’s suspicious that you would run to them almost as soon as your… cousin was taken. To ask them help in taking her back? Why did you wait near a week to enter negotiations? Did you hope to break her out yourself?”

“They are my friends,” Rosewater answered, pushing back against the anger and fear boiling in her. “You’ve heard, no doubt that Dazzle has been my friend and confidant? One of the ‘lured’ as you say. He lives there of his own accord, loves freely, and associated with me out of his own conscience.”

“I’d hear his word on it.”

“You did. Last Spring Gala, when he was confronted and nearly taken against his will back to Damme before Firelight stepped in and—”

“If I may,” Wandering Star said, stepping closer and raising her head. “I wish not to let this question of Dazzle’s freedom to come up again. He has attested that he is where he is of his own free will and both I and Firelight accepted it. That is the end of it. I’ll not hear accusations of mind control or compulsion again unless you have fresh evidence to the contrary.”

“Nay,” Wing said quickly, stepping back to stand near his wife again. “We have none.”

“Then that is the end of the matter of Dazzle’s freedom.”

Rosewater tipped her head in thanks to Wandering Star. “He… helped me come out of a dark place. For that, I will always be grateful to him. They all did.”

“My dear,” Dapper said, circling around to stand on her other side and pressing a wing to her flank, “you should share more widely the story of your fall as you told it to us. Keeping it a secret only aids Roseate.”

“Everypony has dark places they fall into,” Down said with a dismissive huff. “It’s a part of life in this war. Having your own tale of depression isn’t special.”

“I think you should reconsider that view, my dear Primfeather Down,” Dapper said somberly. “Yes, you were born into a hotter conflict than your children were, and you should be thankful to my wife for pushing us all closer to peace. Rosewater was born to a mother who—”

“Dapper, enough,” Rosewater said softly, her voice tight, and turned to meet his eyes. “Enough. Please. Tonight is a celebration of what will eventually be. Here, at least, the past should be set aside so we can discuss the future.” After a moment’s silence, he nodded, and she added, “But I thank you for being an advocate for me.”

Wing and Down were sharing another look when Rosewater turned her attention back to them, and Wing took up the lead this time, saying, “Perhaps another time. I have heard tales of how she treats her serving staff. Those get spread the farthest on wings of gossip, but I can only imagine how she’s treated her own children.”

“Another time,” Rosewater agreed. “I am here tonight, yes, hoping to attract Collar’s attention, but not through wiles or guile or even dressing as I have, but by being the me that I’ve hidden away for so long. I don’t want to be that mare again. Whether or not he accepts my advances, I will respect his decision. Please understand that I don’t wish to harm Cloudy, but I can’t ignore the chance to end the war with our union.”

“And my son won’t marry into a loveless marriage,” Dapper said before either of the two Primfeathers could get a word in.

“Then you sanction this?” Wing said, his voice a pall of indignant rage. “This is a travesty of Damme’s customs!”

“It is not,” Dapper said calmly. “I recall the same thing being said when Lace proposed marriage to me, and we eloped. A travesty. No courtship. No warning. My son has not made his commitment to Cloudy yet, either, and it is not so strange for an eligible stallion to be courted by more than one suitor, even in Damme. Why, you, Wing, had—”

“I will not hear you discuss my courtship in the same breath you talk so blatantly about his courting two Roses. Two Merriers.” Down laughed harshly and stepped back. “It’s even in the name, isn’t it? Marrier. A marrying pony.”

“Who’s a marrying pony?” Collar asked, smiling as he slipped neatly between Wandering Star and Rosewater, almost brushing his shoulder against hers.

“Were you aware she came here to court you?” Down demanded of him, jabbing a hoof at Rosewater.

“Given that I have been the subject of her courtship attempts for some months,” Collar said drily, “no. I was not aware that she was attempting to court me.”

“Do not mock me, my lord.”

“Don’t mock my wife—”

“I was not making mock,” Collar said with a small huff. “I was pointing out the ridiculousness of your accusation. I would have to be blind not to see that she has been attempting to court me. I welcome her friendship, and she is a remarkably kind pony when it comes down to it, and… perhaps I am not so closed to the idea of something more as you might think.”

“Your courtship of Cloudy—”

“Is between her and I. I’m sure your spies in the household staff have no doubt told you that our relationship has changed of late.” Collar glanced at Rosewater, his eyes showing the pain at having to play the part, even if they hadn’t already planned this, planned the deception of Rosemary’s returning softening Cloudy’s resolve. “I have no wish to anchor her to me if that is not her desire, and it would be an anchoring under our laws. It’s why we haven’t already tied our shoes together.”

“And you think the Terror is—”

“I’ll not have you call her that in my hearing again, Wing,” Collar said harshly. “That name was pinned to her by her mother, not by us, not by our guards. By her own mother. For defending her cousin’s right to stay here in her home. I’ll not have you using it to harm her reputation more.”

Wing stared at him, then at Rosewater. “Is that true?”

She gave him a tiny nod. “It is. But that’s the past, Collar. Please. I just got through explaining that what I want to celebrate tonight is the possible futures. Not travelling again and again through the painful past.”

“Quite right,” Collar said more brightly, tapping a hoof. “I just got done talking to your mother and find that I need wine to wash the taste from my mouth.”

“I know just the vintage,” Rosewater said with a smile. “If they’ve brought it, I’ll show it to you. It’s quite delightful, I assure you, and I can attest to its ability to distract from a meeting with my mother.” After a moment, and before the Primfeathers could leave, Rosewater added, “Would you like to join us, my lord and lady Primfeather? I assure you I can point you to the best that might suit your palate.”

She had to make the offer, even though she knew the answer before it arrived immediately on the hocks of her last words.

“Thank you, kindly for the offer,” Wing said, sounding not quite so stiff as when they’d first come. “But no.”

“Thank you, then, for listening to me, Wing, Down. I hope that my actions tonight and in the future prove the truth of my words.” She bowed to them, more deeply than at first meeting, and turned away to join Collar and Dapper already making their way to the wine stand. “It’s a lovely vintage, with a fruity bouquet and a heady aftertaste. Cabernet Rosewine himself crafted it on the year I was born, in celebration of the heir’s birth.”

“A birthwine,” Dapper said with a sigh. “Stars, I miss that tradition. We should have had one made for Collar’s, but all we have is a wine that was laid down when he was born. We had an ale made, but that didn’t keep for thirty years.”

“You can share my birthwine,” Rosewater murmured, daring to brush her shoulder against Collar’s. “There are some thirty bottles of it left, I believe, and a few casks.”

Collar surprised her by pressing his cheek to hers. “We’ll need another wine for today,” he whispered. “For tonight.”

Rosewater’s heart swelled at the idea, at the casual show of affection in front of everypony. It was happening. “We will, won’t we?”

Author's Note

The fireworks are lit! The fireworks are lit! Gondor-- wait, no, wrong story.

Posting early because I have an incredibly busy morning tomorrow, and I'll likely forget if I leave it until then.