The Rose Way

Stride had never really been a morning pony, even after his enlisting in the Dammeguard.

Though he’d been in for about a year and a half, perhaps only just under, he still found it a bit difficult to find the strength to swivel his hips and roll himself out of bed and onto his hooves in the morning. More often, he’d found himself devoid of his typical grace or nimble hooves.

Evidence of this loss could be seen in the way he staggered straight into the doorjamb and bumped his nose. Stride groaned and rubbed at his aching snout, blinking owlishly.

“Not even hung over and I’m running into walls,” he grumbled. Sighing, he rolled his eyes skyward. “Stars, I hope this isn’t an omen.”

The young pegasus stumbled his way into the shower to begin his day. Sleep tried to cling to him still, its hold gentle and inviting as it called to him to steal away but a few moments longer in his nice, warm bed.

Stars, if only I wouldn’t get an earful from Captain Pink. Not to mention Cloudy and Lord Collar.

A nice stream of hot water upon his face did well to banish his old nemesis and coax forth a contented groan.

The most difficult part of his day was over, at least.

Breakfast and dressing would be a piece of cake.

A quick meal of oatmeal with a dash of honey was plenty to satisfy him this morning. Stars, Stride felt more than satisfied.

Last night had been fun, and quite interesting. Rose Seed and Rose Petal were different, of course. They were practitioners of the Principes, heirs to families who were everything his wasn’t and practiced a lifestyle devoted to a free expression of love and an inclination to fragrance holding a myriad different meanings and applications for magic.

Just as his morning promised to be.

The thought brought a fond smile to his lips. I wonder how you’ll labor to send me into a tailspin this time, he mused as he cleaned his dishes and set about dressing in his black armor, still awaiting the proper issuing of more traditional Dammeguard blues with his shift from courier and shadow duty. Someday, he’d get the standard kit.

Maybe the change would help chase the nightmares away …

He shook his head to banish those thoughts. No need to befoul a morning with promise, much less one after a night that went so well. Surprisingly well.

He’d even made a couple new friends. Potentially. Hopefully.

They really had seemed nice. Even after Gale made such an ass of himself.

Frankly, that was impressive enough.

The benefit of Rosemary guard duty was that Stride got to take a break from running letters and actually stop to have a conversation. That her company was so warm, her lessons so patient, and their debates, spirited, but with a more respectful tone to them than he was used to, spoke of a mare who held a genuine love for those around her and a want to befriend everypony.

If only she could ever hope to meet and know everypony. The mare’s heart was big enough to hold an ocean.

Those thoughts brought a rather fond smile to Stride’s features as he trotted up the steps to Prim Palace and nodded a greeting to his fellow Dammeguards, both keeping their expressions stony and gazes fixed upon the entry gate.

Rumor had it they’d earned themselves quite the dressing-down from Lord Collar. Something about harassing a pair of Merrier guests he’d invited before the Gala.

He snorted a laugh. What a pair of idiots.

A little voice reminded him he could’ve well been an idiot like them had Collar not chided him when he was but a colt. Or again when his tongue slipped and he insulted Cloudy’s mother during training.

More specifically, a bit of Prim Wing’s words managed to find its way into his voice, and he just so happened to give a rather back-hoofed comment that it was impressive she could fight and drill with such diligence, being the daughter of a mare of such proclivity.

A phantom ache bit into the back of his head. That had been a mistake he’d take care never to repeat.

Fortunately, Cloudy had forgiven him, eventually, and never brought it up again.

Save for the one time she got drunk enough to admit she respected that he’d come back to apologize alone after Collar shredded him and took his lumps, and apparently earned himself a spot under her wing.

That spot, he found, came with a lot of cheap tricks in wrestling and swats to the back of his head.

Stride pushed those thoughts aside as he crossed the foyer and turned down the wing to Rosemary’s makeshift prison. There, at the corridor, he noticed three staff ponies grouped together, a stallion and two mares, all engaged in the time-honored tradition of idle gossip.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but perked his ears. Normally, it wasn’t his business, but Rosemary would want to play another of her games—who got the newest news first.

Looks like I’m going to win today.

“—be ridiculous!” the stallion scoffed, snapping his tail with an air of finality. “Lord Collar may be courting Lady Rosewing, but he would never—“

“Lady Rosewing still practices their way!” one of the mares protested, her smile gleeful. “And she loves Miss Rosemary still!”

“Baron Dapper is Merrie-born,” the other put in.

“Exactly! And I heard it from a reliable source! Lord Collar kissed Lady Rosewater Rosethorn last night! It’s true!” She bounced on her hooves. “And that other one about Rosemary? Raising her like a daughter, it’s so sweet!”

Stride nearly tripped over his own hooves. What?

Actually what?

When? How? Why?

An endless fount of questions flew through his mind. Collar loved Cloudy dearly, everypony knew. And Rosemary—well, Rosemary and Cloudy followed the Rose Way, and not the one the Baroness professed, they’d made certain to say. She …

Er.

Well. She’d not exactly made her want, at least, that Collar be a Merrier sort of friend a secret with how she, um, teased him.

That, though. That was their business. Rosemary loved Cloudy and wanted Collar in that way. Cloudy loved Collar and Rosemary. Collar, for certain, wanted Cloudy and felt Rosemary a fine friend, and trustworthy enough to grant leeway among her guards.

Stride included.

If they wanted that sort of relationship, that was …

Well. That was their choice. Dapper Rosedown was a Merrier by birth, yes, and perhaps his son would follow that culture. Somewhat.

Rosewater, though …

A flash of purple lights slithering through the fog, vines withering at their touch before the alluring fragrance played teasing games with his nose and coaxed his mind into a living nightmare. Then, laughter.

He shivered.

In the corridor, stallion rolled his eyes. “Oh, hardly!” With a shake of his head and a long-suffering sigh, he replied, “I should hardly ever think to call Misty Mornings reliable on any count other than the spread of nonsense and fancy! Honestly! Lord Collar kissing that witch—“

Stride put a bit more haste in his steps and altered course, stopping only when he was nose to nose with a most surprised stallion.

Silence befell them, though not nearly in time.

“Lord Collar,” Stride said slowly, “doing what, exactly, with that what, sir?”

“Er …” The stallion looked to the mares for support, but they’d already fled, leaving him to deal with the Dammeguard who’d happened upon them. “Th-They were making claims regarding Lord Collar being … er … forward with affection, sir Dammeguard.”

“So I heard, and I’m sure that’ll make the rounds and earn a word from the Baron or Baroness about rumor-mongering.” Stride set his jaw. Collar’s words from the night before played through his mind. That, he knew, had been a reminder that Rosemary would be upset to hear he used her cousin’s infamous monicker, even to tell Collar what his parents had called her.

This?

Stars, amidst this tension and negotiation for Rosemary’s freedom, if Rosewater happened upon them and heard this in Prim Palace?

Oh, Collar would be furious. All his hard work to foster that relationship he’d hinted at, extending a hoof of friendship to Merrie’s heiress in hopes to end this war could well fall to pieces with a few misspoken words.

The war had intensified in the past for far less.

Stride tilted his head toward the opposite wing of the palace, a silent prompt to leave. “Take care who you insult,” he warned. “You never know who might overhear—or when the Lady Rosethorn might just walk ‘round the corner.”

It shouldn’t have warmed his heart so much how the stallion’s face paled before he turned and beat a hasty retreat, but it did.

Oh, it did.

If only because it meant Rosemary might not hear and be upset at such harsh words against one she, against all odds, loved.

Family did that. Stars, Stride loved Sunrise, though their relationship had strained to the point the pair could barely hold a conversation without a prevailing awkwardness hanging over them. And little needed to be said about the rest of the Primfeather house.

The pegasus resumed his trek down the corridor, sparing a nod to each of the staff ponies he passed on his way until he came to that final leg of his trip and met Poppy Prim coming off his temporary shift and resuming his regular duties elsewhere. His was but a stopgap until Stride or Coat arrived, since he lived with the latter and woke earlier. The stallions exchanged greetings, both having come up through the same training class under Collar.

“She’s friendly and chatty today,” Poppy said, smiling slightly.

“Sunrise and sunset, then.” Stride snorted a laugh. “When is she not?”

Poppy ticked an ear. “True.” His smile spread into a cheeky grin. “She’s expecting a thorough recounting of your night at the Gala, by the by. I think she’s half hoping you went home with somepony.”

“Ah. Well, I’ll disappoint her on that front then.” As Stride made to step past his friend, he noticed something faint wafting through the air. Intrigued, he sniffed. Was that cologne? And a rather fragrant one at that. “Er, Poppy?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you wearing cologne on shift?”

A deep rosy hue filled Poppy’s cheeks and bled all the way to the nape of his neck. His ears splayed, their tips tinging the same color, as he sputtered, “I-I-I’m meeting someone later and I, um, just thought it’d be nice to actually pay attention to my presentation for once.”

Stride’s ears twitched. Rosemary would have noticed too, and she’d probably have teased him a little. In her playful, yet supportive way.

No wonder Poppy’s cheeks flushed so.

He chose his next words carefully, mindful not to make it seem like he wanted to pry but to express some support. “Oh! Um, that’s—“

“Excuse me!” the unicorn blurted before he pinned his ears and hurried off as fast as his hooves could carry him, bound for wherever his daily post would have him.

Leaving Stride to stare in Poppy’s wake, a hoof raised in midair and his ears slowly drooping to lay flat against his mane.

“—great news,” he finished lamely, his gaze fell to the floor. Perhaps reputation from that comment in training still followed him, even now. Even with Cloudy’s forgiveness. “If you’d have stayed, I’d have wished you luck, at least …”

An empty hallway was the only company there to greet him. The only one, save the mare waiting beyond the door but a few paces behind him.

Sighing, Stride just shook his head and hoped his silent well-wishes would be carried to his friend, then turned to finish his trek. He raised his hoof and rapped thrice against Rosemary’s door, and waited quietly.

It was time for the usual game.

From within, the young Rosethorn mare hummed. He could imagine her nostrils flaring as she scented him, her nose powerful even at this distance and through the door. “Mm, orange blossoms, rainwater, a touch of cirrus—why, that can only be my favorite debate partner in Damme, Prim Stride, at my door!”

Stride bowed his head and smiled. “One day I’m going to find something to trick you,” he called back.

“I doubt it!” she sang, giggling. No doubt, her shimmering blond tail swished gaily. “You’ll look silly if you keep shouting through the door at me. Aren’t you going to come inside?”

A question laden with a hidden innuendo. Stars, how many times had she gotten him with one of these?

Not to mention the—ah—occasions he’d noticed she had been occupied prior to his arrival …

A blush bled into his cheeks. “Ar-Are you decent?” he asked.

Another giggle. “Define decent,” Rosemary teased. “Why don’t you tell me all the indecent things I might be doing, and I’ll let you know if I’m doing any of them!”

He face must have been as crimson as the markings upon her cheeks and breast. But Stride rallied, a month in her company had taught him how to fence words even though she could prod holes in the armor of his sensibilities. “Are you doing anything that will make me sputter and hide my face beneath my wings?” he asked instead.

Rosemary burst out laughing. “Oh, Strides!” Her hooves clipped against the stone floor, the door latch clicked open and pulled inward with a tugging of her magic to reveal a grinning mare waiting but a few steps inside. She shook her head and asked, “How do you manage to still put your Primmishness into Rose wordplay?”

Stride ducked his head. “Talent, I guess.”

“Well, why don’t you put that talent to rest and come sit with me,” she said, tilting her head toward the small table and seats awaiting them. “And tell me about your evening.”

Smiling shyly, Stride entered and ushered the door closed with a little nudge of his wing. He removed his helm so he might rest it on a nearby table, mindful of the small reading lamp and a couple cards from Merrier friends. This latest one was signed by a mare named Velvet Night, a dear friend, he knew by her stories.

One who should be due to deliver her foal soon, if he wasn’t mistaken.

His eyes flitted to Rosemary again, and his heart ached. The poor mare shouldn’t be locked up here. Damn this war. In her culture, she should be with her friends, happy as a lark as she helped pick out gifts to greet the new arrival to their community.

Instead, here she was and here she would stay. Interred for the crime of attempted scent magic plied upon an old stallion Roseate wanted for something or another.

“I recall Cloudy mentioning that she, Coat, and Thistle were joining you for a private Gala,” he said as he trotted to her side. “How was it?”

“Lovely, of course. Not as splendorous as the actual thing, but the company helped make up for those friends I missed.” She bumped shoulders with him. “I should have liked to share dances with all of you. And I will, someday.”

“All of us who guard you and Cloudy and Lord Collar?” Stride laughed in disbelief. “Stars, we’ll need to wheel you home on a cart by the time the night’s done!”

Unable to fight against her mirth, Rosemary ensnared his hoof so she might lean against him. “Surely you’ll help me clamor in,” she faux whined between giggles, giving him a fake pout. “I’ll be so tired and my hooves will ache, I’ll be naught but a limp noodle by the time we all return.”

The stallion snorted and tried to shrug her off. That was certainly an image. “Oh, stop!”

She held fast, prancing on her remaining three hooves. “I will! And I’ll have all of you dancing Merrier dances with me!” Her rosy eyes glittered. “That just might have to be part of our lessons soon—yes, I like that idea. We can work that into Hearth’s Warming culture discussions.”

Stride’s thoughts returned to Petal’s invitation at the Gala, and her implications that she should like to see him join in a pegasus style dance with the pegasi of the Garden of Love. A Merrier style one.

Was it an actual invitation, though? Not that he doubted Petal meant she’d like to have him join or dance, but did that really constitute an official invitation to wine tastings which stood out among Merrie’s social calendar like the brightest stars?

It’d be awkward if he were to show up, only to be turned away for claiming a verbal invite. Who else could confirm but Seed and Petal, after all?

“That could be fun,” Stride said softly. “But, um, perhaps the less, uh, showy dances?”

Rosemary nipped at his cheek. “Oh, you’re no fun! Your wings were made for Merrie style pegasus dances, Strides! Just look at how strong they are—and you keep your feathers so well!”

A rosy hue bled into the very cheeks she so loved to tease. “L-look—okay, fine, some of them!” He ducked his head. “But not the more … you know … those sorts.”

“I do.” She nosed against the cheek she’d nipped, then drew away so she might take a seat and gestured that he take the one to her immediate right. “And of course I wouldn’t expect you to dance those dances, you silly stallion. I want you to try things, but I respect that you’re not ready for some or won’t partake at all. That’s how our way works.”

“Right. Yes, you and Cloudy have reminded me of that.” Stride sat only once she had, but took the seat she’d offered. He shifted about to get comfortable, his armor pinched him between the shoulders.

With a happy sigh, Rosemary tossed her shimmering blond ponytail over her shoulder and smiled at him. “Now, your night, you slippery pegasus.” She wagged a hoof at him in mock severity. “Don’t you think I haven’t noticed you changing subjects. I know many ways to pry free a secret from a friend’s lips when they try squirming by. How was it?”

“It was … interesting. The start was awkward, but I had a bit of fun talking with a couple ponies.”

“Awkward? How?”

He shrugged and gave her a quick summation of Collar’s speech, how it felt like everypony present then tried to search out each Dammeguard pegasus, in uniform or not, for any sign of faltering or bravado to see which might be the sort to go flying across the Merrie to risk capture for the foal, and how he kept himself looking stunned and disbelieving himself. Stride did, however, omit that little lapse into memory.

No need for her to know about that.

But then, he told her about Collar urging him to go mingle, and his talk and playing that tasting game with Seed and Petal, the game and conversations bracketing Gale’s rudeness.

“And we, um, sorta talked about some of her vineyard’s wine tastings,” Stride said. “And how they’re big events, and Petal mentioned that she’d like to see me dance there someday. Pegasus style. So, um, I guess she agrees with you.”

“Ha! She would! Remember my friend? Rosie Bliss?”

“The dovelike one who tilts her head?”

Rosemary’s eyes went wide. She raised a hoof. “Doooooooon’t you dare call her dovelike,” she warned, a hint of a blush began creeping into her cheeks. “Or at least don’t do it and tell her it was me who told you that.”

Stride filed that away for later. That was an interesting response, coming from her. “Okay, I won’t. But what about her?”

“She’s … well, she’s gorgeous. Bliss gets a lot of requests to pose for paintings and sculptures, though I doubt you’d have seen any here. But when she’s not doing that or organizing weather for the Garden, she’s probably the best dancer I’ve ever seen.” Now, her cheeks did fill a rosy red that almost hid her markings. Her coat actually quivered. “She quite lives up to her name. And she’s a lover of Petal and Seed’s, so, yeah, they’d know her pretty well. And they’d probably love to see her cajole you into joining her for one of those dances.”

Oh.

Oh.

Now it was his turn to again let his cheeks fill rosy red.

Rosemary gave an airy giggle. “Yeah. Bliss is a rather sensuous dancer.” She coughed, adding, “But I’m sure Petal or Seed would tell her to go easy on you. If she didn’t already figure it out herself, she’s got enough experience with Damme-born lovers.”

“I-I’ll take your word for it.”

Maybe he’d have to disappoint Petal. If it came down to her actually inviting him, that is. Pegasus dances were one thing, but the sort that could garner this reaction from Rosemary were a bit much for him.

Just how to do it respectfully was the question.

One of several which nibbled at the back of his mind. Rose Seed’s face floated to the forefront. With it, those red markings, just a touch lighter than Rosemary’s own.

“Er, about Rose Seed,” he began. “He’s … a cousin of yours?”

Her ears ticked. She must have understood his question.

Rosemary bobbed her head. “Honestly? When we were younger, we were closer than cousins,” she answered, a fond smile playing upon her lips. “We were … before my mother was banished, she would bring Rosewater and I to the Garden Villa to visit Aunt Budding and Uncle Blue almost every day. Seed and I were more like brother and sister. Stars knows we caused enough mischief—he, of course, was the brat who started the most of it.”

That, Stride didn’t believe for a second. “Uh-huh.” He grinned. “And you were just innocent.”

“I was young and impressionable!” Her smile betrayed the lie. “Ask anypony! Stars, ask Rosewater, she’ll back me up!”

He barely withheld a shiver at the memory of those purple lights dancing through the fog. Stride most certainly would not ask her.

Instead, he offered another option. “Or I could just ask Petal, since she seems wont to swat him anyway.” Grinning, he added, “Guessing you knew her then too?”

Rosemary closed her mouth, thinking. Then, she sucked in her lips.

A tell. One he’d learned meant she knew he was about to get one over on her.

Oh, so Petal might have a few stories to contradict who caused the most trouble, would she?

“In any case!” she blurted. “Yes. Seed is my cousin. A Rosethorn of the Garden of Love. You’ve nothing to fear from him, save his humor and how entrancing the Garden itself is.”

“Entrancing how?”

“I can’t spoil that.” Rosemary’s eyes danced. “Entrancing in a good way, not the corrupted way of my other cousins. That, I will promise on our friendship and my ancestor’s name.”

He rocked back in his seat. Swearing on Rosethorn or Prim Clothesline’s names wasn’t an insignificant gesture in the slightest.

Stride gave a crooked smile. “He did seem nice. They didn’t get upset at me when Gale was an ass.”

“I think your apology and sentiment toward Petal’s accusations did plenty to show them who you are.” The smile she wore spoke of something else. Pride in him. And a bit in her work with him, perhaps.

She leaned over to nose his cheek. “I’m glad you met them. I’m glad you took a chance to meet others from my home on your own, because I have more still I’ll introduce you and everypony to once I’m free.”

“I … think—I know I’ll look forward to that.” Stride ducked his head. “The stories you tell about them seem fun. Rosie Night sounds like a laugh.”

“She is that and more.” He could feel her beaming against his cheek. Then, Rosemary sat back in her chair and gave a happy sigh. “Anything else of interest?”

“Er …” What else did he have—oh! Yes. “They mentioned that they might like to meet up for lunch sometime. Sort of a friendly invitation—wait, wait, wait! Before you pounce me and prod!” He held up a hoof to ward her off as she rose, her eyes alight with demand that he tell her what she wanted to hear or have it coaxed from his lips with merciless tickling. “I said I would like to but that I needed to check my shift schedule, and both understood.”

Rosemary hummed, but sat back, seemingly satisfied. “You get a pass,” she said in her faux magnanimous voice. “Because I know you need to be here on shift, and because you said yes to lunch with some new friends.”

That gave him pause. Were they friends?

Well. They were certainly friendly, but not quite affirmed. Potential friends, perhaps.

That fit nicely.

With that all settled, Stride reflected on the rest of the night’s festivities. His ears ticked.

There was something else. “I, um, think I mentioned Lord Collar’s urging?” At Rosemary’s nod, he continued, “Right, so, um. I did hedge a bit. And I sort of looked to him hoping he’d come with me to the table and … er, he challenged me to talk to somepony new. But he also mentioned that he wouldn’t ask anything of me that he wasn’t willing to do and looked to, um, your cousin. Lady Rosewater, I mean.”

Apparently, this was a subject Rosemary had hoped he would cover, for she leaned in close, all trace of teasing gone.

“They’d been talking a bit,” Stride added. “They and Baron Dapper and Baroness Lace. The four of them all seemed at ease and comfortable with one another, almost amicable. Oh, and also, they were dancing together when I asked his permission to leave.”

Her expression brightened like the midsummer sun. Rosemary’s tail swished against her cushion. “And? Go on!”

“Er. They were happy together. And they seemed comfortable, enough that Lady Rosewater joked when I’d asked his permission to leave and then implied she expected more dancing out of him.” He grimaced, but decided to claim his victory in the news game here and now. “Also, I win the new gossip game, I think, since you’ve not said anything about what I just heard on the way in. It’s on the subject—hey!”

This time, there would be no warding her off. Rosemary looped a band of magic around his shoulders and pulled him and his seat toward her, and caught him in a tight embrace. Her spell, she kept pressed against his back, right between his shoulder blades so he couldn’t try to escape.

“I’ve warned you many times,” she sang. Her eyes glinted. “You can’t tease a Rosethorn for long without recompense, Strides. You’d best stop dangling tidbits before me and start moving those lips.”

“D-Dangling? Me?” He laughed and tried to lean back, but she just hugged him tighter. “And you’re one to talk about teasing and dangling tidbits?”

Rosemary gave an ominous laugh. “Oh, boy, do you not want to get started down that path.” Stride felt tendrils of magic trailing near his ribs, their static energies dancing upon his coat. “You tell me this instant, or I’ll tickle you ‘till Dapper hears you shrieking on the other end of the palace. What’s this morsel of gossip you’re about to share with me?”

Well and truly trapped and at her mercy, Stride could do little more than yield to her demands. “I do have to preface this!” he said quickly. “I heard it from a few excitable maids and a disgruntled stallion, so I don’t trust it myself.”

Her magic teased just beneath his right ribcage. “Noted!” she sang again. “Stop hedging and tell me!”

Another tendril caressed a spot along his collarbone, coaxing forth a squeak. Stride wriggled in her grasp and blurted, “They’re claiming Lord Collar kissed Lady Rosewater at the Gala!”

He felt her magic dissipate, leaving the pair wreathed in a pink, glittering mist. Rosemary blinked, her mouth fell open. “He kissed mom?” she blurted.

Stride felt his thoughts slam to a halt like he’d flown straight into the palace walls.

Their eyes met for a split second. Stride struggled to find voice to ask but one of the flurry of questions fighting to be the first from his brain to his tongue.

Then, Rosemary huffed in disbelief and muttered, “I … can’t believe he listened to me. And didn’t tell me.”

Another response slipped through the cracks and found its way forth. “It’s just gossip,” he muttered dumbly. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in it without hearing from one of them.”

The mare shook herself out of her stunned state, and leveled him with a smirk. “Don’t you go being a logical fuddy-duddy on me, buster.” She gave him a squeeze. “Why shouldn’t he kiss Rosewater? She’s strong, smart, gorgeous—don’t you even try telling me you wouldn’t steal a look—and kind once you get by her want to stand aside and talk to her a bit.”

She wasn’t wrong, of course. If nothing else—if absolutely nothing else—Rosewater Rosethorn had an almost unnatural beauty about her.

The main difference between her more natural allure and Rosemary’s centered around Rosewater being mysterious and calculating while Rosemary was open with her heart and smile and want to make a friend out of everypony on her path. And as for that prod about kindness and talking to her …

Uh. Right.

Stride would just get in line for that. In the meantime, he’d follow Collar’s wishes—he would speak of her and to her, if he absolutely must, with respect and courteousness.

And then he’d go hide behind either Collar or a wall.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he answered lamely. Stride saw the flat look she leveled him with, and the beginnings of an argument sparking in her eyes. “Still, I have a reason.”

Rosemary blinked, then arched a brow. “Oh, do you now?” She fixed him with a warning look, the promise of tickles restated. “Go on. Let’s have it.”

The pegasus had already surrendered to his fate long before he returned her smile and said, “Surely, you can understand that he would go utterly insane if yet another Rose is added to his li—Nononononononono! Not my shoulders! Not my shoulders!”

His shoulders and ribs were the first targets of the merciless tickle assault she launched upon him, many tendrils of glittering pink magic dancing from her horn and slipping between his armor’s plating to tease and caress his sides like dozens of feathers. Stride lurched left and tried to catch her with an upward swiping of his wing across her left ribcage as he had before, but Rosemary was wise to that trick this time.

She held his wing in a loop and traced it with another tendril, easing him to the floor so she could lean down and taunt, “Go what with another Rose in his life? What are you trying to say about me, Strides? Oooh, and about Cloudy! Are we driving you spare, Strides?” This, she coupled with another band to catch his opposite wing and began tickling it as well. He was now helpless to her torment. A previous engagement had given her full knowledge of these spots, and now he couldn’t even turn it around on her. “Aaaaaaare we?”

Tears of mirth stinging his eyes, Stride sputtered apologies and oaths that they weren’t, intermixed with a vow or two to repay her for this.

That only earned a prodding of her hoof against his side, which sent him howling with laughter.

It was this scene, then, that Collar walked in on and greeted with a snort of laughter and wry, “Should I come back later?”

In an instant, the spells and prodding hooves ceased.

The pair jolted apart, Rosemary sitting straight-backed in her seat while Stride scrambled into his own. They met one another’s eyes, mirth brimming and nervous laughter threatening to escape their lips. Stride, himself, squirmed at the lingering phantom tickles tracing his sides.

Collar smiled and shook his head. In his magic’s grasp, he held a stack of books procured from the Prim Palace library. Her latest reading requests. “What trouble are you causing this time, Rosemary?”

“Me? What makes you think it’s not him!” she demanded, pointing at Stride. “I’ve been a good mare today.”

“Uh-huh.” The arching of his brow spoke volumes of his opinion on that attempted excuse. Collar coaxed the door shut to afford them some measure of privacy. “And what garners this heinous attack upon one of my Dammeguards?”

This questioning brought that familiar look of a sly, mischievous mare back to her features. Rosemary rose from her seat to face Collar, her tail swishing merrily. “A certain rumor he carried to me,” she answered sweetly. “Like a loyal little bird bearing a message, in fact.”

Stride ducked to hide the color filling his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Rosemary’s wink, and then a playful flick of her tail across his shoulder.

“I’m quite curious as to its validity,” she continued. “Care to share how your night went, my lord?”

“Quite well. Thank you for asking.” Collar dipped his head. “And yours?”

“Wonderful, as I was just telling Strides. Though we did miss the rest of our friends, and our dear Lord Collar.” Rosemary began her approach. “You all owe me dances, by the by.”

Collar hummed and rolled his eyes skyward, shifting just so he stepped around and behind Stride so she couldn’t latch onto him just yet. “Do we, Strides?” he mused aloud. “Did we agree to that?”

“Um.” Stride avoided Rosemary’s gaze. “Er. I might have said I would, but I can’t speak for anypony else.”

“Oh, so very diplomatic!” She bumped her hip against his seat, still prowling after Collar. “Surely you won’t let your loyal Dammeguards fulfill their vows without leading yourself, my lord. Else I might have to steal them to make up for the dances you deny me.”

That earned a hum. “I could be persuaded,” he said, finally. “If your cousin and Cloudy grant me freedom from their grasp long enough.”

“That will be no issue. And now, back on subject, your night, my lord.” A slender brow arched. “Tell me about it?”

Another hum came in reply. Collar moved just in time to avoid a stinging pinch across his shoulders. “It was quite nice. Your cousin and I talked, and we laughed and drank with my parents. Where would you like your books?”

“I think I’d rather focus on the Gala first.”

He feigned surprise. “Really? Should I take these back, then?” he asked.

Rosemary threw caution to the wind and darted around the table after him, laughing when he did so himself to stay opposite her. “You!” she cried through her mirth. “You should tell me how your night went and if the rumor this one brought me is true!”

“How can I do that?” came his reply, innocent as a foal hiding a stolen cookie behind his back. “You haven’t told me what rumor we’re addressing.”

The Rosethorn grinned. “Strides,” she called, her eyes never leaving Collar’s. “Tell him what you told me.”

Predictably, the lone pegasus splayed his ears when his liege lord’s gaze fell upon him. “Er.” He ducked his head. “I, um, overheard a few palace staff ponies gossiping that you, er, kissed Lady Rosewater at the Gala, my lord. And they, um—“ Stride stopped himself, remembering whose presence they were in.

He didn’t want to spoil her mood with the revelation of that monicker one had bestowed upon her cousin.

Collar flicked an ear. He’d caught the hint. “Is that all?” He snorted and relaxed, setting the books upon the table.

Which left Rosemary ample time to sidle up and gaze up at him, smiling as the Primline stallion looked down at her in turn.

After a moment, he sighed and turned as though to make for the door. “Well, if there’s nothing else—“

“Oh, no you don’t!” With both forelegs, Rosemary latched onto his right and held it tight against her breast. "Collar, I swear to the Mare in the Moon, I spent all night last night convincing myself I couldn't just sneak in and watch. I will hear at least one little tidbit about this dance you and Rosewater shared." Her smile curved and an ear ticked with mischievous intent. "Or do I have to make up things I wish would happen and whisper them to you, one after another, until you finally tell me whether this little morsel Stride delivered to me is true."

Neither stallion could help the deep crimson which bled into her cheeks. Stride, because he could just imagine what Rosemary might whisper. Collar …

Well. It would be him doing those things in her implications.

Still, the Lord Heir of Damme did rally. Even as he drew in a deep breath and turned his eyes skyward as though in thought, and let a smile telling of some slight nerves play upon his lips. “I thought she would taste like mulled wine again, not strawberries,” he murmured, running his tongue along his lip. “I’m not certain which I prefer.”

It seemed to take a few seconds for his words to fully register for both younger ponies. And their reactions?

Why, they couldn’t have been more different.

As Stride’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide in a sort of awestruck disbelief, Rosemary’s face brightened and radiated pure jubilation. The Rosethorn mare danced by Collar’s side and let out a merry squeal. “You did it!” she practically cheered. “Stars and moons above, you did it! You actually kissed her!”

Collar bowed his head, that color returning to his cheeks. “I did, yes,” he confirmed in a murmur.

Rosemary beamed. “And?” she prodded. “How was it? And did you kiss her properly?”

“Okay, let’s leave some of that to modesty.” Collar drew back as best he could. “And it was proper for the occasion, stars, Rosemary!”

She stuck out her tongue at him, but relented. Excitable and eager to tease as she could be, Rosemary did respect their mores to a point. Even if she found some rather silly.

It gave Collar some reprieve, and Stride the chance to blurt, “Why though?”

Collar blinked and looked to him. He made to answer, but hesitated a moment, his ears lowering just slightly. “I wanted to, Strides,” came his reply. “Remember what we talked about last night? Extending a hoof in friendship and doing our part for that?”

“But kissing—ah.” He realized before Rosemary could say a word. That he ducked his head in apology might have spared him a remedial lecture. “Oh. I … but … isn’t that sort of kiss more for Merrier friends who are …”

This, he couldn’t say. The burn in his cheeks and squirming in his belly betrayed him before it could make it to his lips.

It wasn’t that Collar wanted to offer that hoof. That, while difficult for Stride to imagine in this instance, made sense if the heirs of both cities truly wished to see the war end for their ponies. But Collar had the love of his life.

Didn’t he?

Smiling, Collar dipped his ears. “Let’s talk about that later, shall we? In fact, I have need to borrow your debate partner for a moment, Rosemary. He owes me a—ah! Ah! Nuh-uh!” He caught her hoof and held her in place, shaking his head. “No, you don’t! You’re not pulling your Merrie Law of Hoof Holding this time! You are now on Damme soil and I am applying the Collar Law of Report Receiving.”

Rosemary huffed at him and puffed out her cheeks. Then, she glanced down at Collar’s hoof, and grinned. “I could claim it on you, my lord.”

“I think you’ll find that it is I who have your hoof. But I’ll give you points for the attempt.”

A hint of a pout tugged at Rosemary’s lip. She flattened her ears against her mane and gazed up at him with wide pink eyes. “Enough that I can have a little extra time walking the garden today?” she asked. “It looks like a beautiful day outside, and I’d like to stretch my legs a little more.”

Collar made to answer, but closed his mouth, thinking. He shrugged. “Honestly, I could use a little walk out in the sun myself. Strides? Think our guest has behaved well enough for a bit extra time while we catch up a little?”

His mind still reeling from the revelations and implications, Stride could only nod dumbly and rise to his hooves. He moved to take up his helm again. “I mean, she’s welcome to talk with us anyway,” the pegasus said, flicking a wing. “I already told her a bit.”

“He told me everything,” Rosemary corrected. She held her head high and fixed Collar with a smile. “Your challenge was met, my lord, and with a bonus of standing against bias. Strides has listened well to Cloudy and me.”

“That does me well to hear. But I’ll hear it from him as well.”

The Lord Heir of Dame angled his head toward the open door. “Come along, you two. I’m rather enticed by the idea of a walk with fine company in the sun, myself.”

Seed aimed a tired glare at the back of his beloved wife’s head as she, White Rose, and Prism set about making breakfast for their household. “Can’t believe you actually bit my ear and dragged me out of bed like that,” he grumbled.

“I told you at the Gala last night, we need to be up and working,” came Petal’s reply. She didn’t give him the courtesy of turning to face him. “If you truly wish to make good on our proposed lunch dates.”

She had him there, the cheeky mare. But Seed was never one to just let something go.

So he plucked a sliver of ice from the icebox and waited until her attention was on the blueberry pancakes she was making, and then he slipped it under her tail and pressed the ice against her dock.

With a shriek, Petal leapt and danced on the tips of her hooves, her ears flat to her mane as raucous laughter went up around the table as their loves figured out what he’d done. She whipped about so quickly her snowy mane and tail snapped through the air, her verdant eyes alight with a blend of amused wrath, and aimed a baleful glare at the stallion now feigning innocence in his seat.

Seed fluttered his lashes at her. “Something wrong, darling?”

Her cheeks flushing, Petal blew an angry breath through her nose. “You,” she growled, “are so lucky we owe everypony a full summation of last night.”

“Ooh, afterward?” Dazzle grinned and gave his shoulders a roll. “Storytime and a show?”

“Alas, no. The vines call.”

Before any further banter could continue, the front door of the Garden Villa opened and shut with a thud, and then came a rather familiar cadence—an exhausted, clumsy stagger Seed had known since the day she took her first steps.

“Don’t knock over mom’s vase again!” he called before the mare had even poked her head around the doorway. “Else she’ll appear out of thin air to twist your ears again!”

A young pegasus freshly entering her first majority staggered into the kitchen, and fixed him with a tired glare. She was smaller than he, taking more after her mother, Rosedown Tempest, than their father, Blue Rose, Zephirine Rose had a rather slender build with wings well-suited for quick movements in flight. Her coat was a light, almost white-pink, and her feathers deepened in color at the tips to give her a look almost like the petals of the afterglow rose, a shade matched by her mane.

His baby sister, Zephirine. One of two—she, through blood and a shared father, and Rosemary, through bond and rearing together in the same creche.

“Stuff it up your ass,” she growled, slumping into a seat on Roselyn’s left side so she could recenter her ire upon the other pegasus in the room, seated on the candlemaker’s right. “Bliss has been such a slave driver with the weather team I’ve not even been able to drag myself from Misty Meadows’ house ‘till today!”

Rosie Bliss arched a brow. “You said you wanted to do your part for the village,” she drawled, smirking. “And I told you and Misty both to stop staying up late so you’d last through these first few weeks of training. It’s your own fault you’re overtired.”

The younger pegasus huffed. Seeing she’d get neither sympathy nor pity from her trainer and friend, Zephirine laid her head upon Roselyn’s shoulder and whined, “Dreamy maaaaaaaare! Tell Blissy to stop being mean or my wings’ll fall off!”

Soft purple feathers trailed up Roselyn’s back, Bliss grinned and leaned in to purr in her ear, “Tell Zephy to get to bed earlier and stop staying up to late for loving on training nights.” She nipped the tip, then teased it with an expert flick of her tongue. “Come now, Dreamy mare, tell her.”

Caught between two pegasi, one a dear friend and the other a favored lover, Roselyn could only duck and hide her reddening face in her hooves. “Why are you two putting this on me?” she complained. “Settle it yourselves!”

“This is more fun, though,” came Zephirine’s reply, her pout maintained.

“Much more.” The elder pegasus winked at the younger. Chuckling, she drew back to sit on her cushion. “Never change, my dear.”

The little whine Roselyn gave only served to bring forth a renewed rippling of amusement. This time, with an impertinent little sister as the center.

Zephirine flicked a look at Seed and Petal. “So. Any luck on finding our hero? Or are Bliss, me, and the rest of the pegasi who were near enough only gonna know him by the way he shredded the rutting wind to get away from you?”

Sleepy or not, Seed had to admit, Zephirine did have a way of getting focus shifted onto whatever she wished.

Seed held up a hoof to forestall any questions. His horn flashed, and he threw up a privacy shield to complement the familial wards upon the property. “Before we tell you anything, I want it understood that Lord Collar has instilled a great deal of trust in us,” he said, allowing the sleepy smile and lazy stare he typically wore to melt away in a rare show of intent. “Not a word of this leaves the villa. Not a hint, or we risk Roseate learning of his identity and seeing him bound to one of her daughters in their way.”

The disgust which flashed across Zephirine’s face did well to ease his worries. She might gossip with Misty and Rosemary, prior to their dear cousin being captured, but she’d learned Budding’s lessons well.

Zephirine followed the same way as he, as Rosewine.

As Rosethorn the Wise.

Satisfied that the Garden Villa’s residents understood, and in the resolution worn plain upon the faces of his former Dammeguard lovers, Seed shared his summation of the evening so Petal might keep the lion’s share of her attention on breakfast, that way she only needed to interject to chat about how she coaxed Stride through their dance, and found him a natural, despite his lack of practice.

Once they’d relayed everything, even his apology for Gale’s interruption and that adorable shift from his discomfort on his knowledge of the orgies during the wine tastings toward an understanding of their importance, Seed watched their faces and waited.

Interestingly enough, Dazzle spoke first. “Primfeather Gale, eh? His youngest brother?” At Seed’s nod, he hummed. “The name escapes me, but I’d heard of him.”

“Oh?”

“He popped off at Cloudy Rosewing during training and got his ears chewed by Lord Collar, and then he apologized to her personally and they ended up pretty close.” With a shrug, he added, “Gossip among the Dammeguard was that she thrashed him pretty good in a sparring match for it. So, pretty typical for pegasi solving a dispute.”

“For a Rosewing and a Primfeather? Very.” Bliss hummed. “That’s a big change for him, though, Seed. From insulting her to apologizing for his brother.”

Seed bobbed his head. “Lord Collar has mentioned that part of the reason for the, er, stress he’s been under has been that he’s been challenged on what his family taught him and reexamined it. Courtesy of Rosemary and Lord Collar himself.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “For what it’s worth, he didn’t say a word against my heritage.”

That earned a raising of brows.

And a low rumble of approval from Tremor. “Pet? What did you think?”

“That he’s a sweetheart who had to unlearn a lot,” came her reply from the stove. She trotted over with a plate of blueberry pancakes hovering in her grasp, and set it down on the table. “But he learned more in turn. Bliss, I tell you, he would make for a beautiful dancer. I’m going to find a way to have him here for a tasting so we can see it.”

Seed saw a chance to set up a little nudge for their new friend. “He did mention that he knew pegasus dances.” He smiled at Bliss and Zephirine. “I’ll ask that you both be considerate of his heritage and not be too salacious in your choices. As a favor to Pet and I.”

The elder pegasus shrugged her wings. “Fair enough. I’d hardly expect him leap to his hooves for that sort of thing.” Bliss raised her brows. “You’ve done a job of making this all some big sort of to-do buildup, though. And that’s not even considering that the village will expect to receive and celebrate him.”

Of that, there could be no overstating.

The problem, of course, was what they’d gleaned from Collar and the stallion himself. Prim Stride, brave though he was for crossing as he did in these times, and so soon after Roseate’s raid, was a rather nervous, skittish stallion.

And surprisingly evasive for one of his coloring. Seed hadn’t even noticed him until Collar sent him straight over to their table.

But Petal gave you a glass while I spoke with Silk, and Collar got you another. Seed chewed the inside of his lip, thinking hard as he tried to conjure up a picture of the room. Where could a pegasus with coat such a distinctive blue and spattered with stormy gray dapples hide?

He thought on that a moment, then corrected himself—where, but in the midst of a cluster of his fellow Primfeathers? As he had in the pub.

Which just begged the question whether Stride had somehow sensed Seed tailing him.

To think such a nervous stallion so easily read could spawn too many questions just as easily.

Mother would adore you. And father would think it hysterical to watch her piece you together.

A strawberry bounced off his nose. Seed blinked and turned to find his sister leveling him with an expectant look. “Are you going to stop drifting off and answer?” she demanded.

“Sorry. Just something Bliss mentioned made me stop and consider things.”

“Mhmm. Well, you’ve played this all close enough to the vest the village and Merrie both are abuzz with whisper of who he might be. Care to share a little?”

Seed winced. Zephirine had no idea, there.

From what he’d seen last night, the sister cities situated on the Merrie River both wanted to know.

By right, they should be celebrating him today. The flames of war had cooled for such things in years past.

“His name is Prim Stride,” he said, finally. Seed flicked a glance to Petal, then gave one of his crooked smiles. “And Petal and I may have a way to help get him to a point that the Garden can receive him, but …”

“It’ll take time and patience,” Petal finished in his stead, taking her seat at last. “As with all things in gardening and tending to the vine, he will require a gentle hoof.” She smiled and gave her ears a playful waggle. “So, first, the village will receive him as it received you, Dazzle. And Prism and Tremor. A friend, perhaps a lover to somepony, should he wish. In turn, he, hopefully, will open up to us.”

It was Prism who caught on first. “Ah.” She inclined her head. “To gauge when he’s ready for the, aha, attention he’s going to get.” At their nodding, the former Dammeguard chuckled. “And that want to see him at our winter tastings is one born of that friendship shared last night, then?”

“It is. As are a couple lunch dates we hope to have with him soon. Before the commerce day on the Primrose.”

Seed saw the way Roselyn perked up. “Bring him by my stall!” she blurted. No sign of play or teasing showed upon her face. Instead, there was a sense of earnestness and insight. “I can try to bring something—something that won’t be too much, but might help with nerves or anxiety, whichever it is.”

“That,” Petal replied, her smile brightening, “could well work.”

As the conversation flowed and turned to musings on Stride’s personality and how it might play among the village, Seed settled back on his cushion and pinched off a bite of Petal’s first pancake with his magic, and popped it into his mouth. He smiled at her, humming his content in his own insolence.

In the back of his mind, though, he thought on their new friend.

And decided he’d send the shifty, slippery pegasus a letter by runner to make sure their lunch invitation wasn’t forgotten.