The Rose Way

Though he hadn’t exactly accepted any sort of guest of honor status, certain niceties should still be observed.

Since Collar had been kind enough to invite him—though, admittedly, he did it to make a point—Stride felt it prudent to request his leave to quit the gala and head home. He even had the perfect out.

Tomorrow, his day began on shift. Which meant Rosemary would expect him to be awake, aware, and eager to share everything he’d experienced at the gala in her absence.

And there might be a surprise debate. She was ever-wont to spring one upon him when he least expected.

It was how she ensured her lessons were sinking in, and that he internalized what she prodded him to read and argue.

Unfortunately, that want to be polite and let his host know that he needed to leave was where Stride ran into a bit of a problem. Asking Collar, right now, meant venturing out on the dance floor and interrupting his dance. Not terribly rude, but …

Well.

His dance partner just so happened to be Lady Rosewater Rosethorn.

Stride swallowed his nerves as best he could and made his approach, carefully avoiding and dancing out of the way of couples and trios—the latter from the Rose contingent, of course—twirling with one another on his path. Once or twice, he again felt the tease of feather and shoulder against his side or flank, coupled with an inviting smile and a wink.

The pegasus stopped two tail lengths from the dancing pair, and stood to attention. “L-Lord Collar?” he called.

Collar broke eye contact with Rosewater and turned to greet Stride with a smile. “Ah, hello again, Strides,” he said, halting in mid-step, though not fully parting from her. “Have you enjoyed the evening so far?”

Stride bobbed his head. “Yes, my lord. The wine and dances were, um, nice. And the company interesting.” He licked his lips, nerves made his ears itch to lower in her presence. “I was, er, meaning to request leave to go home for the night. Since you invited me …”

To his surprise, Rosewater gave a short laugh. Not cold and lustful as the rumors said she always gave while enthralling.

Her laugh was husky and warm, and the smile she wore when she flicked an amused look first at Stride and then back at Collar seemed genuine.

“Bedtime for good little Dammeguards, my lord?” Rosewater teased. She inclined her head just slightly, her eyes fluttering in that subtle tell of a Rosethorn scenting another pony. “I should think him old enough to stay out a little later, by the fragrance of dear Petal’s lovely wines on his breath.”

Stride jolted. On his breath? Stars, was it that strong?

Laughing, Collar fixed her with a look of mock chiding. “Now, now, my lady. Stride is just being prudent since he’s expected at the palace for morning guard duties. He’s young, but he performs them well and understands the value of a pony’s wellbeing over the circumstances of birth.” His brows raising, he added, “And I’m sure he’d like to have his wits about him when minding his charge on the morrow.”

The slight ticking of her ears showed her understanding.

“Ah, I see.” Rosewater turned her smile upon Stride again for a moment, her markings dimpling so like Rosemary’s would. “Then let there be no mistake that no offense is taken by me with his leaving us, my lord.” A hint of playful mischief shone in her eyes. “Grant him leave, that we may continue our engagement. I have yet finished with you, Lord of Damme.”

Collar’s ears twitched at her wording. He hummed, his smile amused, and returned his attention to the task at hoof. Or rather, the one holding him in her hooves.

Though he didn’t let Stride off without a parting comment, “Have a good night and a safe walk home, Strides. I’ll expect a summation of your fulfilling my little challenge when we meet tomorrow.”

With that, his agenda had been set. His morning would belong to Collar and Rosemary.

Stride gave a respectful dip of his ears and touched a hoof to his chest in salute, then turned and made as though to start for the door. But a thought nagged at him.

Had he bade Seed and Petal goodnight and thanked them for their company?

He stopped with a hoof raised to take that first step, and turned to find them chatting with the few remaining ponies taking a break from the dance. A smile tugged at his lips as he wondered for a moment how many bottles Petal even had left.

Hopefully just enough to last the night. If more of his fellow Prims hadn’t sampled a glass, they’d missed out on a great chance.

Their loss.

Stride took a deep breath and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. It was probably time for a cut soon, stars knew he’d endure Coat and Cut descending upon him if he dallied again. Satisfied that he didn’t look entirely like he’d come out of a windstorm, Stride wove his way back through the crowd until he reached their table again.

He only had to wait a moment before Petal noticed.

“Just wanted to come by and say goodbye,” Stride said, offering a little wave. “I’ve got shift in the morning, so, can’t stay out too late.”

“Oh, of course!” Laughing, Petal gave a little dip of her ears. “You’re fit to walk home?”

“I should be fine. It’s only a little bit of a fuzzy feeling now. Lord Collar certainly wouldn’t let me go without an escort to see me there if I weren’t.”

Her shoulders seemed to relax. “That heartens me to hear. In that case.” She drew in and hugged him, then kissed him on either cheek in a typical Merrier’s greeting and farewell. “Goodnight, and thank you for enduring our games and talk. It was a pleasure.”

Stride did his best to ignore the hint of a blush coloring his cheeks as he stammered his agreement, then turned to exchange pleasantries with Seed.

He was no more ready for the kisses Seed planted on either cheek than he was Petal’s.

Stars curse him, these Roses were going to permanently make his face the same crimson as the Rosethorn house banner!

The bottles had been set aside from the moment they’d arrived. As soon as Note’s letter arrived by runner and Seed read his request to Petal and mentioned his relationship with Dazzle, his darling wife had made it her mission to ensure her selections would make this reunion nothing short of romantic. Her sentiment was, of course, much the same as his.

So two bottles of her finest rested in a fine carrying box made of cedar, along with a few glasses tucked into a section with soft cushions. Just in case.

Though, as Seed let his gaze sweep out over the dance floor and linger on the pair he’d noticed at the start of the evening’s festivities, he knew for certain there never had been a need for the extra effort.

Rose Crown, of course, had them in supply. From the same maker Petal used for her tastings, too.

Stars, did Seed so love being right.

Humming to himself, the Rosethorn stallion set about helping Petal tear down their display. One of the Dammeguard who’d been granted a duty reprieve so they might join the dance for a spell had returned with a jubilant grin and merry laughter as he and his fellows brought trash bins for the vendors, along with an offer of help packing whatever they needed to carry home.

The benefit of Rosewine Vineyards taste and reputation, really, was that they never seemed to have much in the way of stock to bring back. Chillers, stands, the branded table dressing, and money, on the other hoof …

Never let it be said that the son of Budding Rose would complain that he was laden with coin.

Across the ballroom, Crown and Note’s dance had slowed to a familiar two-step—tired, almost that of a pair of shy teens, but telling of a want to keep dancing despite aching hooves and late night weariness.

Thank the stars Roseate had excused herself to stomp her petulant self home, after yet another string of losses and embarrassments. Oh, that kiss Collar had sprung upon Rosewater had been a shock to most, and the look on Roseate’s face afterward had been but a close second to that of his dear auntie.

She would deny it later. She would claim it mere surprise, but he knew her tells better than most.

Her snowy coat had flushed a deep red, and her ears betrayed no shortage of joy before fear caught her by the neck and spoiled the moment. But it had been there.

And in his eyes as well.

Thank the stars Roseate had left, for she couldn’t spoil the idle conversation they now made with the Primlines, nor the loving dance of Crown and Note or Silk chattering away with a Dammer merchant whose name escaped him right now. Damn his fleeting memory.

The dancers came to a halt as the band let the last notes of their song echo throughout the room. They rose as one, none Merrier or Dammer tonight, and bowed to their rightly earned applause, then turned to shake hooves and share praise with one another.

Tonight, they were just musicians. Tomorrow, who knew? Perhaps still just musicians to one another, from different cultures and schools of playing.

But tonight, they had joined as one in song, and become something truly beautiful.

“We did bring a bottle just for the musicians, right?” he whispered in Petal’s ear.

She smiled. “I’ve got it hidden by our special order. Otherwise, I’d have to beat ponies away with a chiller to avoid their cajoling.”

“Ah good. Best bring it out, lovely.” Seed caught the eye of Rose Melody, a cousin of his through his mother’s brother, and beckoned she bring her fellows with a flick of his ear.

She bobbed her head and grinned, then turned to extend the invitation to the rest.

“It’s about time to pay tribute to our performers.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Crown and Note part at last and shared a fleeting embrace. The Primline stallion muttered something in her ear which made her draw back and fix him with a surprised, searching look.

From her lips, Seed read a playful chiding, “More tricks and surprises? What else have you planned?”

Note merely smiled and turned to trot toward Seed, letting her stew a bit.

Such a shame he missed the look she aimed at his back as he left her side. A look every Rosethorn’s lover knew meant a night of delight.

I knew I liked you for a reason.

“Enjoying the gala?” Seed asked as his friend drew near, his smile coy. “Certainly the company.”

Note couldn’t hide his smile. “Yes to both,” came his reply. His cheeks were flushed, whether from the heat of dance or knowing his dance partner enough to realize whose eyes made the hair on the back of his neck prickle, Seed couldn’t say. “I see your table is quite cleared. A good night for you as well, I hope?”

“Socially and in business, it was excellent—oh, Petal! Come, come! You must meet this one!” Seed held out his hoof as if to summon her to his side, and, indeed, when she did, he drew her into a loose embrace. “Petal, my love, meet Prim Note, our Dazzle’s old partner. Note, my lovely wife and prodigal vintner, Rose Petal.”

“A mare who needs no introduction.” Note dipped his ears to her. “I’ve sampled some of your seasonal cabernets at the artists’ meetings hosted between our cities, and I’ve never been left wanting.”

Oh, what a flatterer he was! In mere seconds, he’d managed to put a bit of fluster in Petal’s cheeks, and get her tail to hike just enough to betray her delight.

So you flatter as well as your novels are said to be written. Stars, I might have to steal one from Petal’s shelves to see for myself.

Petal recovered, rallying well. “I’m always grateful to hear that a pony enjoys my wines.” She eyed him a moment, then her blush returned. “I’ve, ah, enjoyed a glass while reading a few of your works. The way you capture feeling and emotion is beautiful, and the care you take in describing characters more in line with our Principes has made you, well, a favorite in our reading circles.”

The stallion blinked, surprised. “Is that so? I’m glad to hear. It’s always reassuring, I’ve often fretted those depictions …” He coughed into his hoof. “I was, er … the letter I sent. I was wondering if I might …”

Romantic, but nervous. Primmish.

Seed called to mind Crown’s regular lovers, Crisp Corner and Gilded Page. The three must have thought him a treat, if they’d had the chance to be with him in more intimate, private settings.

That shifting in his stance coupled with the ticking of his ears told the tale—Note had some hint of that already.

If he didn’t know how Crown favored Rosewine Vineyards’ wines, he’d soon learn. The lucky boy.

Petal guided the wine box to rest upon the table with a deft touch of magic. “I made the selections myself,” she said. With a wink, she added, “With some consultation from Dazzle. He sends his love.”

“And,” Seed interjected, raising his brows in prompting, “his hope that one day you might take my invitation to visit.”

Note ducked his head, smiling to himself. “I … I will see if I can make arrangements with work. Thank you.” He looped a band of shimmering pewter around the box handle. With another, he set a generous stack of bits before them. “For this. And for caring for and loving him. Dazzle deserves it.”

One endorsement for another.

The couple bowed their heads in thanks and watched him leave. The little swish in his tail, the hint of a bounce in his step belying mounting joy with every step closer he drew to Crown before he aimed a coy smile at her. Oh! He knew just the way to play!

“I like him,” Petal said after a moment.

Seed grinned. “Dazzle will be thrilled.”

“Yes. See to it he visits soon. And help me finish up.” She snapped her tail across his backside. “We have plenty to discuss on the walk home.”

Plenty to discuss, she meant, just as soon as there were no eager ears to enjoy some fresh gossip.

Stars, did he ever marry the right mare.

The problem with formal attire, in Seed’s experience, was that it rarely paid any mind to keeping a body warm when the late autumn chill descended upon the land to nibble and tease vulnerable ponies.

Pegasi like Bliss and Stride truly had no idea just how fortunate they were, and both had a mouth on them about it too!

Stride had been a surprise. A lapsing of that shy countenance he’d shown from the first moments he’d approached their table. Was it the wine, Seed wondered? Or just humor slipping through a veneer of manners and nerves?

Seed shivered against a cold breeze which played across the back of his neck. The sweat matting his coat, a product of his exertions from dance and labor, worked against him. He felt a soft winter coat settle around his shoulders, and turned to offer Petal a grateful smile as she wrapped herself in one as well.

“This winter is going to kick like a bitch,” she said with a laugh and shiver. “Gonna have to start tying down the covers soon.”

He hummed. Yes, indeed, it was that time of year again. Though this chill definitely leant credence to her assessment.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll have the others check the window panes and doors for the greenhouses. A few, he knew, would already have the idea in mind themselves.

Rose Leaf would probably be the first onsite.

“The cart is loaded,” he said, leaning against her in show of tired affection. Seed flicked a gaze toward the entrance hall, where the Primlines and Rosewater still lingered and chatted in between farewells bade to other vendors. “Shall we thank our hosts for the evening?”

“Laden with bits, meeting new friends, and chatting with a few influential ponies? Oh, I should say so.”

They left their cart under the watchful eye of the nearby Dammeguard still on duty to see vendors home, and trotted to the entrance. Ahead, Seed could see the Damme liege lords, each wearing smiles bright and warm as the sun in springtime as they talked. Stars, Prim Lace, the Armored Fright of old, looked less a veneer of stern discipline and unfathomable magical power then an old mare chatting with a friend of the family.

Collar and Rosewater, though. That’s where things got interesting.

Perhaps the slimming crowds and busy vendors or a bit of tiredness had finally set in after such a long night full of more concentrated political games, dancing, and, of course, those kisses—one attempted, one successful. Perhaps it was all those things playing in, and they didn’t much care for proprieties right now.

Or perhaps all that worked together just enough to bare a hint of truth to Seed’s suspicion.

They stood together, closer than Stride and most of the other Prims had been with their Rose counterparts during the night. The setting of their ears, the slight raising of tails when their eyes met, and the smiles as they chatted and laughed about something Dapper had said spoke of comfort and genuine happiness.

And the slightest hint of pink bled into Rosewater’s cheeks …

Seed swallowed a want to grin and tease them so, like family should. Like he would’ve, were times better and the political landscape not so tumultuous.

Not here. Not now.

For now, he would savor another measure of victory—the first, the night he and his loves had cajoled her to remain in the Garden, and this second one here.

Cloudy Rose and Rosewater. And Rosemary, too. You are indeed the son of a Merrier, even if most of us forget.

Stopping a short distance away, Seed bowed with Petal. “My lords, my lady,” he greeted Collar and his parents, then winked at Rosewater.

“Cousin,” Rosewater replied, smiling.

“Auntie dearest,” he countered, fluttering his eyes at her.

“You and Rosemary, I swear.” She gave a long-suffering sigh and rolled her eyes toward Lace. “My lady, you see what I suffer with those two? My dear cousin, Rose Seed.”

Lace chuckled and nodded. “We’ve met several times, though he may not remember. This scamp was young then, and used to tease Dapper for how our garden paled in comparison to his home.” Her ears perked. “How are Budding and Blue Rose?”

“And little Tempest?” Dapper added. “I’ve not heard from my cousin in some time.”

“Stars willing, enjoying the sighs and fares of Saddle Arabia,” came his reply. “And hopefully tempting a few new clients to sample our wines.”

“Good, good. Do send them my regards.”

Seed bowed his head in thanks. “I certainly shall.”

“We wanted to offer thanks,” Petal said, bowing to Lace, and then Collar in turn. “I don’t know that we would have seen so much interest or near as much profit had you not offered such a prime location with your invite, my lord.”

For his part, Collar smiled. “A location is only part of the equation. I hear tell the presentation and product itself did more than anything I ever could.” He hummed and rolled his eyes skyward in feigned innocence. “And I’ve had to inform a few of my cousins and their friends that I cannot field business inquiries in your stead.”

Neither Gardener could hide how their ears perked. Seed, for his part, couldn’t speak too much to the actual business or operations in terms of what stock they could sell—that all was Petal’s arena, and she was prodigal in ways not seen since the first mare granted Rosewine’s name as her own.

His were in his greenhouses, and in the running of the Garden of Love itself.

So while the Heiress on the Hill mused aloud on the possibility on a purely business level, Seed considered Collar’s hinting at the deed contract and weighed it against what he knew of Merrie law, and the provisions Petal worked into her own.

It could work. With some finagling and finessing, of course.

But if Rosewine could bilk her mother out of some of the most fertile land in the region and still manage to negotiate more autonomy to boot, her descendent could find a way to still squeeze a profit out of this year.

Giving Roseate another, smaller loss atop those already dealt this autumn, coupled with the added bonus of depriving a couple of his oh-so-charming cousins of their favorite holiday wine.

“Perhaps we might consider meeting again?” he ventured. “For business, this time.”

“Oh?” Collar’s brows raised. “I would have thought your stock would be near bare by now.”

That was sincere. You don’t know yet, do you? Seed simply breathed a sigh through his nose and looked away, already knowing Petal was ready to supply the answer in her own unique way.

She didn’t fail to deliver. “The Baroness broke our usual contract to use the bits to fund her efforts to take you,” this, she said without so much as batting an eye. “So, I find myself with a sudden surplus of stock, awaiting the chance to find a buyer. Those, ah, losses I mentioned while you granted us the privilege of seeing dear Rosemary again, my lord.”

Collar flicked a look between Seed and Rosewater, then back at Petal. “I think,” he said, “you may be the second most refreshingly blunt and to the point Rose I’ve ever met since my bride to be.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Yes. For commerce and the chance to further relations, I should think we can open our doors to the Garden of Love.”

“We of the Garden leave the wordplay and double meanings for our games, my lord.” Petal bowed her head, then winked at Rosewater, adding, “Pleasures and delight follow business.”

To his credit, his cheeks only colored a little.

Just enough to garner a bit of chuckling from the gathered Roses.

“Perhaps my lord has not yet guarded himself as fully against our tricks as he thinks,” Rosewater teased. In her eyes, Seed saw joy he’d not seen in years.

You are so lucky, and paradoxically unlucky that things are so tense right now. Damn, this hiding is against everything relations in Merrie and the Garden are.

Coughing, Collar tried to take hold of the situation and reassert some measure of control. “Yes, well, anyway.” He tapped a hoof against the stone floor. “I’ll have Coat check my schedule and send a runner with a listing, if that’s agreeable.”

Seed bowed his head in thanks. “Quite so. Thank you, my lord. And thank you for making arrangements this evening.” He made sure to meet Collar’s eyes and lower his ears to give hint.

“Ah, yes.” Collar perked his ears in prompting.

Silent askance for an opinion.

So Seed opted to grant him that. “I think we found it informative.” He shared a look with Petal.

“Quite informative, and insightful.” The mare chewed the inside of her lip, a tell Seed knew well.

That face promised scheming.

Raising a brow, he leaned down and nipped her cheek. “Care to share with the rest of us?” he murmured.

“Just an idea,” came her reply, loud enough that the others could hear. Her verdant eyes flitted to Collar, Dapper, and Lace, and then Rosewater.

Oh? What sort of plan did she have in mind?

Collar’s brow raised. “I’m curious as to your thoughts on Stride, that Dammeguard you befriended.” Still playing his part, even here. “I hope you don’t take his family’s views as his own. He’s worked hard to keep an open mind and let myself and others challenge what parents and siblings would try to imprint upon him.”

“Yes, I think we saw a bit of a show of that.” She gave a small, fond smile. “He apologized for his brother’s rudeness.”

“I confess, I hadn’t noticed Gale acting up, but I’m sadly unsurprised.”

“Don’t be. It let us see him, and allows us to give credit to that challenging of ideas you referenced,” she replied, calling back to their previous meeting. “We’ve invited him to lunch with us, but I must ask your leniency on one point of discussion.”

His brow arched higher. This time, Collar didn’t ask.

He let his gaze prompt her for clarification.

Petal offered a smile. “Given his … nerves, I think it might be prudent if we show him the ponies indebted to him on more equal standing.”

Seed’s ears twitched. He’d caught on. “Ah.” He nodded. “Yes, I see.”

She flicked an ear to confirm his suspicion. To Collar, she continued, saying, “Would you be comfortable if we introduced him first as a friend and visitor, one with a curious mind? Let the village’s hospitality ease his nerves in a more natural way.”

Collar hummed and gave his tail a flick. He wasn’t against it, nor did he leap upon it as some perfect answer.

But he considered it against what he knew of Stride.

Rosewater stepped closer to him and leaned in, surprising both he and Seed, and added her piece, “Our offers of protection remain firm, if that is your worry.”

“That helps,” he replied, breathing a sigh through his nose. “That helps. But his nerves and his mental state—“Collar stopped himself a moment, another thought coming to him in that same instant. He shook his head, smiling slightly. “I think you might be right, Petal. And I think he’s already got a few of us here who can continue being a sounding board for his worries or feelings.”

At last, Collar nodded. “With my blessing, then. Feel free to invite Prim Stride to the Garden of Love. I entrust our mutual friend to your care, Lord Seed.” He turned to Rosewater and let the act falter just a tad.

Just enough.

“And to you, Lady Rosewater.”

The son of a Merrier indeed.

Anticipation tickled his belly like a touch of feathers beneath his skin.

Careful spellcraft saw him wrapped in a bit of clever illusion which turned Prim Note, famed author across the region and Dammeguard, to an unassuming crafts pony from Damme. Slate gray coat and steel blue mane vanished beneath a bleeding of buttercream yellow and warm, gentle orange.

In this form, he was a simple baker’s apprentice. A no pony in the eyes of the nobility in either city.

Which meant Roseate should have little reason to think he was anypony important to Crown. No more than just a passing fling or a friend she’d met at an artists’ gathering and enticed to dip his hooves in the Merrier lifestyle.

A sting of magic across his rump drew a sharp intake of breath. Note shot a glare at the impish mare, hiding a smile himself.

“Come along, Golden Crust,” she coaxed. Those rosy eyes of hers glittered, full of mirth and anticipation. “Don’t lose heart now, dear stallion. You are in good, gentle hooves with my loves and me. None of that silly Dammer fluster.” Then, Crown brushed her shoulder against his and whispered, “Wouldn’t want to waste such a beautiful coloring to that handsome face.”

His loins stirring, Note didn’t have to put much effort in the way he ducked his head and let his ears splay in ta show of bashfulness. The wine box, now disguised as a parcel from his faux master’s bakery, floated along in his magic’s hold.

“I just hope you’ll all like it,” he murmured.

Crown flicked a curious look at the box. Her tail swished and teased his ankle, she leaned in to nose at his cheek.

“You owe me an explanation, my dear.” She pressed a kiss upon his jawline, adding, “You schemer. What have you selected for us?”

Careful to play her part, and to match his.

Stars, if Priceless ever met her, the old stallion would look upon her like a daughter in the art of deception and spying.

Note dipped his ears respectfully, like a commoner mindful of her higher standing. “No schemes, Lady Rose Crown. Not on my part.” She didn’t believe that for a second, and he’d pay for it. Stars, would he. So he leaned into his act and bowed. “Just a sampling of wares, since I’ve been a bit selfish in sampling and pining for your voice and poetry for so long without reprisal.”

He felt her teeth a split second before she bit his cheek. “You forget,” she whispered, her voice husky as they turned to walk the path leading up to her Librarium. The flowering bushes and beautiful garden she and Gilded so lovingly tended still showed color, a testament to the finer touches of Rosethorn magic she could wield still, and their strength against the cold. But they would fade soon. “You forget that we have indeed sampled yours and longed for your next creation, though you guard your recipes so jealously.”

Oh, she hadn’t forgotten.

That tremor in his belly garnered a full shiver as they passed by her lovely rose bushes. Carmine, like her mane.

His tail swishing, Note decided he could bear it no longer. He turned to press his nose against hers, and flicked one of his noise scrambling spells through the air to disrupt any listening through Far Whispers. “I love you,” he murmured against her lips. “I’ve craved your company for months.”

“I’ve wanted you here for weeks.” She kissed him softly and gave his nose an affectionate lick. Crown wrapped her hooves around his shoulders and set her forehead against his, her eyes fluttering shut as she drank in his scent again. “I’ve wanted you, we’ve wanted you so.” Her horn lit that warm, rose hue and disarmed the wards. The door swung open slowly.

An artful presentation of her inner sanctum.

With one hoof set against his chest, Crown ushered him backward into her home, her hips swaying and tail swishing like a metronome. Note could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

His hooves crossed over the threshold, the door swung shut as his hindquarters bumped against the wall.

Crown’s eyes flashed. She reared up and guided him to follow with a touch of magic, pressing his back against the wall. “Mine at last,” she purred, kissing him again. Her smile blossomed into a bright grin. “Ours at last. Stars and Mare’s wings, ours at last!”

As she leaned in to press her lips upon his neck, just beneath his jawline in that way she knew never failed to make his breath hitch and tail lash, Note’s ears twitched to a quick cadence of hooves thumping down the stairs.

Gilded Page rounded the corner, her eyes brimming despite the sleep still lingering in them, and smile as bright as moonlight. With a gay laugh, she bounded over to embrace he and Crown, kissing them both soundly. “Note, darling!”

When they parted, he grinned and nuzzled her gently. Stars, if this turned out to be a dream, he might weep. “Gilded,” Note murmured. “How are you still awake? You look exhausted, dear.”

“Oh, hush! Crisp and I took a nap so we might be wary enough to savor this night! Stars, I couldn’t dare feel excited lest something happen to delay your return!”

Snorting into his neck, Crown turned to nip her lips. “I would never have allowed it,” she whispered, her gaze flitting to Coat’s eyes and her smile drawing another flurry of butterflies. “Nor he, this devil love of ours has woven schemes himself. And where is Crisp?”

On cue, there was a sharp thud from above. Then another quick cadence, this one a tad lighter, nimbler.

“Gildy! Gildy, you sneak! I won our wager fair and square!”

Gilded shuffled herself behind Note and tried to hide. He could feel her smile against the back of his neck.

Crown’s eyes danced. “What have you done, dear mare?”

She buried her snout in Note’s shoulder, tittering. “He won our wager on who got to greet Note first, and wouldn’t stop teasing ‘till we fell asleep. So I tripped him up and tangled him in the sheets.”

Crisp Corner leapt over the bannister, landing on his hooves with a light bounce and aiming a faux glare at Gilded. The corners of his mouth twitched and threatened to spread into a grin. “I won fair and square, Gilded Page,” he repeated, his wings arching off his back as he stepped toward the threesome.

Squeaking, Gilded tried to put Note between herself and he. Her shoulders shook with poorly suppressed mirth.

“Hey!” Note laughed and tried to move, but couldn’t escape the mares’ embraces. He let the wine box settle on the floor, just in case Crisp decided to turn his teasings upon him. “Don’t use me for a shield!”

“Oh, too late for that. This minx will get hers soon enough. But more’s the benefit for me.” Crisp reared up and nipped lightly at his cheek. He hummed and pressed their snouts together, unfurling his right wing in invitation. His breath teased across Note’s lips as he murmured, “Too long have these wings gone without you held beneath them, held by my side as the rain sings and our hearts join together.”

Heat crept into Note’s cheeks. Were he not held, he would have surely coughed into a hoof, but the reflexive ducking of his head pressed his nose into the nape of the larger stallion’s neck. “Y-you horrible tease,” he stammered. “You stole that from Quiet Quill.”

Crisp laughed and kissed his forehead. “Yes.” His next kiss, he dotted between Note’s eyes, and followed with a lick to his nose. “Did you think I missed how those cheeks and eyes would light during the hero’s ode to his love inThunderous Wings? Or the fragrance of your cologne intensifying for us, as it does now?”

Before Note could attempt some excuse, Crisp tilted his head and let his lips tickle against Note’s, fixing him with a half-lidded gaze.

His heart hammered in his chest. Uncertainty tried to claw at his chest, beaten back by longing aged with the angst and lonesome nights spent over five long months. The lone Prim among Merriers licked his lips and turned his head in opposite so their lips could meet in a soft, chaste kiss.

When they parted, he exhaled a shuddering breath and whispered, stumbling terribly over his own tongue in recitation, “I-It may not be held close on the stormy nights of our rainy seasons, b-but I should find myself lucky to be held and guarded against winter’s frost.”

“And so you shall.” Crisp stole yet another kiss. Then, he smiled at Note and flicked a gaze to the floor, to the wine box resting beside them. “And just what schemes do I hear you’ve woven? What have you brought us tonight?”

“That, I would like to know as well.” Note had but a second’s warning before Crown leaned up to tease her teeth upon his ear, and left him squirming in their grasp. “This Prim has sewn mischief and kept secrets, dears,” she purred. “His talent, I must reassess, my gift to mark him properly as a lover of a Rosethorn, met with one of devilish Prim trickery of his own, and now this box. This box, procured from my cousin and his prodigal wife.”

Gilded Page gasped, then moved to lick the back of the same ear. “Oooooh! Tell us, tell us!” she crooned, kissing softly. “Tell us or sing and dance for us, lovely stallion! I know that wine box design! Spoken or whispered in bliss, I will have answer one way or another!”

And dance he did. Upon the tips of his hoof he stood, arching his back and whimpering as the mares visited their teasing upon his captured ear, and Crisp cheerfully blew a cool breath across the other.

“At least let me bring it to the table first!” the stallion managed to whine in between gasps which threatened to build to heady moans. His tail hiked against all semblance of Prim decency and stoicism.

His lovers, amorous and wicked, grinned as they withdrew, but Crown’s horn lit and her magic traced and tickled along the edges of his ears. A lover’s caress.

An unspoken vow that she would see him writhing in pleasure if he dared trick her again tonight.

No, my love. My tricks are done.

Fortunately so. The three of them would surely make good on Gilded’s promise—their teasing could endure until he succumbed to their demands or his own arousal.

Note looped a band of magic around the box handle and carried it into the dining room with Crown by his side, mindful of any tricks and with her magic still gently playing with his ears. Gilded and Crisp flanked him, their grins a blend of excitement and promise to join with their love’s signal.

Was it wrong that he felt tempted to indulge himself in a promise of punitive affection?

But his games had endured plenty long, and his patience for them strained with each passing second. Seeing them again after so long, stars, he felt like a foal begging for desserts after dinner.

He couldn’t possibly wait any longer.

The stallion set the wine box on the table and unfastened the latch, carefully prizing it apart so he might bare its contents to his loves.

Two bottles of Rosewine Vineyards’ finest vintages, labels even he knew despite only a passing familiarity.

Plum Passion and Petal Rains. The vintages which marked Petal’s debut as a vintner crafting her own vintages and cemented Rosewine Vineyards as the premier brand from the twin cities on the Merrie to Canterlot and beyond.

More to the point, as Note slowly realized, they each a price far out of the range of what he’d paid at the Gala.

Dazzle, Petal, stars above! What in heaven’s name are you two thinking?

He felt Crown snake a hoof around his ankle, then her muzzle pressing against his ear. She hummed. “Oh, you are a wicked trickster, my dear,” the Rosethorn mare purred. “Loves? Shall we open these bottles and … let our reunion commence?”

This time, Note didn’t protest. As he felt their lips upon his neck, and their teeth and tongues upon his ears, he let himself melt and submit to their ministrations.

Those weeks apart came, at last, to a blissful end.