The Rose Way

Seeing his Merrie-born friends never failed to bring a smile to Stride’s face, but something about those moments his shift took him to walk with Rosemary in the palace gardens had a way of making whatever worries or lingering horrors in his nightmares couldn’t touch him.

Then again, were any immune to such a feeling?

The gardeners greeted them with polite bows, but the brightening smiles when Rosemary would tease or launch into some debate on gardening methods could not go unnoticed. To her, they were friends, of course. Even if her cousin-slash-brother could teach them a thing or two.

Merrier familial relationships, Stride realized, were quite odd.

But not unpleasantly so.

Collar shook his head, a fond smile playing upon his lips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that mare means to charm everypony I put before her just to prove she needs no magic,” he mused. “And perhaps to they that there is heart in the Rosethorn line still.”

Unable to help himself, Stride turned a look of mild bemusement upon his liege lord. “My lord, I think you’re a little late to that suspicion.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “She did get to Poppy and me.”

“Ha! Yes.” The older stallion blew a sigh through his nose. “And me too, I suppose.”

Stride watched Rosemary bend low to savor the scents of a cluster of bluebells. She didn’t have to, of course, with her nose she could probably close her eyes and prance to each she wished and announce them to the stallions. But she did so love to savor their scents.

Just as she loved to savor each friend’s company.

He blew a sigh through his nose. “I ended up talking to the vintner and her husband,” Stride said, shifting the subject. “Rosewine Petal and Rosethorn Seed.”

“Mm, I heard.” At Stride’s questioning look, Collar smiled. “Seed is a cousin of Lady Rosewater, one of the few of her family on favorable terms with her. He and Petal came over to speak with us after they’d finished cleaning up, and told us, among other things, that you’d made quite an impression.”

The pegasus racked his brain, hoping he hadn’t done something to cause offense. Sure, he knew of the—ah—orgies which took place after the parties at Rosewine Vineyard. Cloudy had told him of them herself. But he’d tried to focus on the social aspect!

That was more jarring, really. Orgies and parties in Rose culture weren’t exactly uncommon.

His worry must have been clear upon his face, for Collar chuckled and patted his shoulder. “A good impression, Strides. Don’t fret that.” The larger stallion’s smile turned to an amused grin. “Did you really apologize for your brother acting up?”

Stride ducked his head. “He was being an ass,” he explained, his ears flattening to his mane. “Carrying on about those accusations against her and how tasting wine would let her make a custom lure to ensnare me.”

Snorting, Collar rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. But Petal luring you? No.” He flicked his tail as if to swat away the notion like a fly. “Between she and Rose Seed, I doubt any would dare try to ply a lure against one of their friends while in their company.”

“I read the other Dammeguards’ testimonies. The returned ones.” Stride bit his lip. How to word this next question so it didn’t sound too accusatory? “Er, they’re, um, also rather important to the Garden of Love, my lord. The Lord of the Garden and the Heiress on the Hill?”

Collar flicked his left ear. “Yes.” He nodded once. “Rose Seed is the leader of the village, the heir of Rosewine Rosethorn’s legacy.”

So he did know.

Then …

As if reading the thought off his face, Collar bobbed his head. “They’ve asked after you, yes,” he said. “And I requested their patience, as promised.”

Stride breathed a sigh. “Ah. Okay.” He had the grace to bow his head and murmur, “Sorry, my lord. I just—“

“Were our roles reversed, Strides, I suspect I’d wonder the same. I take no offense to it.”

“Oh. Good.” There was a beat of silence, then Stride added, “They were nice.”

“They said much the same about you. I believe they also mentioned the prospect of lunch sometime in the next couple of days?”

Blinking, Stride bobbed his head. “Yes, my lord. I was going to ask—so I could send them a letter and see what they had time for, given how busy they must be.”

“Ask? Ah. Your shifts, of course.” Collar grinned. “Well, I think we can find somepony to spend a little time with Rosemary for a couple hours around lunchtime over the next couple days. Tell them, and then let me know which you’ll need leave for and you’re free to go. Perhaps our guest will just have to suffer my company and debating instead.”

A half dozen steps away, Rosemary’s ears twitched. She turned, smirking, and fixed Collar with a look. “Or perhaps you’ll suffer me instead, my lord,” she teased. Then, she turned a playful look upon Stride. “And don’t you go spending all that debate and storytelling energy on that goof of a cousin of mine, Strides. Else I’ll have to be a pest.”

Stride laughed. “But I can spend it all on Petal?”

Her eyes danced. She loved when he played along. And, come to think of it, so did he. “Of course. But I’m the only Rosethorn you’re to spend the bulk of that energy on. So there.”

The Prim stallions shared a look.

Collar shrugged, smiling. “Unfortunately, the Collar Law of Report Receiving doesn’t save you from that,” he deadpanned.

With a sigh, Stride turned his gaze skyward. “I understand, my lord. But …” He glanced at Rosemary and grinned. “Maybe Stride’s Law of Being Too Fast can spare me her machinations.”

Rather than balk or protest, his friend simply beamed. “I have a Cloudy Rose.”

“I said being too fast. Not too slow.”

“I’ll be sure to let her know you said that!”

Damn my mouth.

At least Collar got a laugh out of the byplay.

It wasn’t nearly the first time Note had greeted the morning entwined in a warm, loving embrace with Rose Crown. Stars, no. It wasn’t even the first he’d been in bed with Gilded and Crisp.

But it was, in fact, the first time that he’d found himself pressed back against their pegasus lover’s chest.

And could feel Crisp’s sheath teasing against his dock.

Note felt his heart do a little flutter when he registered the sensations, the rising and falling of Crisp’s chest coupled together with some fanciful dream which drove him to clutch tighter around Note’s waist and slide those soft feathers up his thigh as a wing extended. On Crown’s opposite side, Gilded Page let out a shuddering gasp, and a whimper.

The night’s festivities came back to him in a pleasant blur. One which brought a stirring to his loins again.

Stars, holding them again. Feeling his cock enter Crown as she sang ecstasy in every moan, in every thrust he drove into her. Upon his tongue, a lingering taste of Gilded’s arousal as he pleasured her until she shrieked and gave up teasing him with magic to demand he mount her there and then.

Crisp’s warm kisses, his playful little nips and flirting of feather and tail against Note’s thighs and rump as he encouraged the nervous unicorn to explore with hoof and magic. Encouragement aided by Crown’s guiding voice.

So patient, even if he hesitated as Crisp made to trail those kisses lower.

The stallion had merely smiled and licked his nose, whispering, “It’s okay. I know it’s a big shift.”

Note felt a trickle of shame enter his heart. That happy haze left him all too quickly, and in its place, left a stallion feeling as though he was …

Was what?

The Principes covered things like this. It was hardly unique that two stallions sharing lovers, sharing potential mates should not want to lay with one another. Or only one have that feeling. The same could apply to mares. It wasn’t just Note.

But that was just the problem—a part of him, a part that grew louder, bolder with each passing day and each shared kiss, did want to try it.

It just never managed to beat out nerves and uncertainty. A voice always seemed to counter it with an insidious whisper:

What if I don’t really want it? What if I don’t really like him and I leave him feeling hurt?

Crown hummed her contentment in his embrace, and shifted closer. Her eyelids fluttering, she trailed a hoof up his chest, up to cup his cheek, and squinted at him through bleary eyes. A smile spread across her features. “Good morning, my wicked Prim stallion,” she murmured and tilted her chin up in prompting.

She’d taught him well.

He chuckled quietly, leaning in to kiss her upon command. “Good morning, slanderer,” he teased back.

That certainly woke her up. Crown pressed her lips together, hiding a smile. “Were our loves not asleep,” she hissed, “I would torment those delicate ears until you were but a puddle of a stallion coated in his own come, unable to do more than whimper as your cock twitched.”

The thought brought a renewed stirring to his loins. Note felt his cock slide forth from his sheath, tickling against her coat.

She smiled and drew in a deep sniff, her eyes fluttered. “Such a lovely, fragrant musk,” she whispered. Crown fixed him with a lidded gaze, her hoof began to trail down his chest until she could caress his shaft. “Such a fine lover, we’ve found in one of Damme’s sons, in you, my dear.”

Was he, though? For Gilded and Crisp?

Crown’s smile faded. She drew her hoof away from her teasings and nuzzled him softly. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he lied.

Her teeth stung his chin. “Share with me, Note,” Crown chided him gently. Her hooves, now, cupped his cheeks. “Share with me, as we’ve taught you. In our love, we are all here to bear the weight our lovers shoulder.”

“Poetic,” Note mused, forcing a smile. “And so early in the morning, perhaps you should write my next novel.”

“I will not.” Again, she delivered a scolding nip to his chin. Then, Crown lit her horn so she might gently untangle them from Crisp and Gilded’s embraces. She flicked her left ear, a prompting to rise and slide carefully from the bed so they might converse without rousing their slumbering partners.

And, no doubt, so they could put up a modest privacy spell to ensure that fact.

Note rose as asked, his movements fluid and graceful, the results of years of practice under Priceless’s watchful eye.

He slunk off the bed like a fox receding back into the shade of the underbrush, careful to ease his hooves off so the weight displacement didn’t jolt them from their slumber. Once satisfied, the stallion wrapped a Silent Steps spell around his hooves and followed Crown from her bedroom and into the private library the three shared.

In this room, she had curated with Crisp and Gilded their most prized and favored books. Novels by writers of unparalleled skill, rare magical, historical, or cultural texts from the Merriedamme region and beyond, and priceless collections of poems by her inspirations. Sometimes, Note couldn’t help but wonder if one of his books managed to find a spot in these hallowed shelves.

Or if he ever might.

Crown turned to visit a comforting brush against his shoulder as she let one of her privacy spells engulf the room. A second layer, he knew. None could pierce the privacy wards she’d set upon these rooms on the second floor. The rest of his house had wards she considered ‘rudimentary’—capable of being breached, certainly, though not without a nasty surprise for those who might try.

He’d caught that one with a glance at the runes in the sitting room during his first visit and resolved never to try returning her flirtatious efforts to enchant him with song with one of his own with poem or spoken word. Minus the literal enchantment part.

Not unless he wanted her to have free rein to wrap spells around his ears and fill them with her song before he had a chance to apply a filter.

Stars, she might just sing him straight into her hooves so she could tease him personally for his impertinence.

“Share your worries with me, Prim Note,” Crown urged as she gently tugged a cushion over and sat, motioning that he join her. “As we’ve shared our hearts, and I’ve shared mine when I’m able.”

Indeed, she had. And, to a degree, so had he.

The only things withheld were the nature of his work and hers in raiding. The latter, to protect the ponies dear to her heart.

That, he could respect.

So, too, could Priceless.

Note blew a sigh through his nose and shook his head, sliding onto the cushion so he could lay back and recline against her chest. Her hooves wrapped around his shoulders in a loose embrace. “You know I worry,” he murmured.

“About what?” Crown flicked a look toward the bedroom. “Dear, Crisp Corner knows you’re uncertain on your attraction to stallions. Stars, the first time you two kissed, when you kissed his chin, he was so stunned and jubilant I thought him a flustered colt!”

His cheeks reddening, Note let his ears dip. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I am not. If anything, I understate.” He felt her smile against his mane. “Crisp treasures each hug, each nuzzle you’ve given. As Gilded did when you shared your affection with her, and as she did the first time you allowed her to take your cock into her mouth and mounted her afterward.”

Now, his ears lay flat. “That …” Note licked his lips. “I didn’t realize they did. I mean, I’ve enjoyed it all, of course, but I didn’t realize they felt so strongly.”

“Oh, my dear, Prim Note.” Her tone, he recognized as one of patient comfort. Like a teacher to her student.

In this case, it fit well.

She gave his ear a gentle nip. Not in teasing as she had last night, but one of affection. “You and I share the love of lovers. With Crisp and Gilded, you share, by my view, that of friends in the fashion of a Merrier circle. Friends who share in free love together.”

The phrasing made him squirm so. “But what I feel for them …” Note shook his head. “It’s different. It’s not what I felt for Dazzle or my other friends in the Dammeguard. It’s … more.”

“Yes. Yes, that’s just the point, though.”

“Is it? But what I feel, it’s …”

What exactly did he feel?

More than friends, but not quite the same that he felt for Crown. But he had to consider what they’d taught him of Merrier culture and its views on love—the kaleidoscopic nature and different forms it could take.

In Damme, the lines were much clearer, more defined. But there wasn’t this freedom to just express what he felt in his culture.

Here, Note could show just how passionate he was and how he felt for Gilded by making love to her in the morning, he could share in what experimentation nerves and anxieties would allow by sharing kisses with Crisp while the pegasus slowly trailed his feathers until asked to stop, and he could finish his night with Crown and whisper his adoration in her ears as they fell asleep together. He could do all that, and wake in the morning as he had this day.

“What if I only really love you like a lover?” he asked, his voice betraying angst and worry. “Or what if I love Gilded but I just … can’t progress for Crisp? I don’t want to hurt them. Either of them.”

A touch of magic cupped his chin, guiding Note to turn and meet Crown’s rosy eyes. “You’ll never hurt them in being honest, Note,” she murmured softly. “I share my bed with our friend, Birchwood Bark, on book club nights. Some, after you’ve left us. But Marigold does not favor mares, yet I will kiss her, and entertain her husband with her.”

Note thought on Birchwood. The stallion was a bit of an odd face, considering the typical genres the group favored and that he, at first glance, might strike a pony as being—ah—thick.

But once one managed to get him talking, they would surely find a keen, hungry mind eager to explore the worlds crafted by the same master writers Crown and Note so adored.

He flushed, thinking of how Birchwood and Marigold might lay together with Crown. “I didn’t think of it that way, really.” Note rubbed his right hoof over his left ankle. “I … stars, I just don’t want him to feel I’ve taken all this time hedging, and he’s been so patient, then for me all of the sudden to say no?”

“And how much will you hurt both him and yourself, should you lie?” she asked, biting his ear. “In that, dear Note, he would find greater offense and hurt. Be honest with him and yourself, and you’ll find Crisp will hold you close still.” Crown coaxed him to turn and cupped his cheek in a hoof. “And should we join together as bonded mates, we four, he will love you as his husband, and respect your preferences as I do Marigold’s. It is our way, my dear. My ancestor’s way.”

Yes, that much he had read in his perusing of the Principes.

But there was reading and then there was practicing.

Note shifted so he could lay on his side. His nose brushed against hers. “How do I get past this and accept that?” he asked. “Hearing it, reading it, it’s not like being in this place in my head and heart.”

His love gave a sympathetic smile and leaned in to kiss him softly. There was no heat of passion in this, as there had been last night. This was the side of the Rosethorns that had been lost to those across the river.

And to some here in Merrie.

She doesn’t belong here, he thought, not for the first time. She belongs somewhere her heart can be shared without fear of reprisal or blackmail.

For now, this was what they had.

They’d just have to figure out how to get to a better place when the winds were more favorable. Together.

Note turned his head so he could lay his cheek against hers. “How are you so patient with me on this?” he murmured, rubbing softly against her markings.

Crown hummed, shifting so she could return the gesture. “How are you so open to hearing and respecting others’ cultures in your works and thoughts?” she countered. Then, the mare turned her head so she could brush her lips against his cheek. “Or consider taking a walk with us down the Rose way of things?”

With a breathy laugh, he rolled over, nudging her with his shoulder so he could lay atop her and press their noses together. “I love you,” Note whispered softly. “And everything you do to me.”

“I love you,” came her reply, coupled with a beautiful smile. “And what you make me feel.” Her eyes glittering, Crown gave his nose a slow lick, and purred, “And I would share that with you, here and now, my dear.”

Note drew back and fixed her with a disbelieving look. “Here?” He laughed. “But this is your private collection, love. Shouldn’t we—“

A band of magic looped around his neck and drew him back into her embrace. Her eyes held him in place even before her hooves slid up his sides.

“Here,” she repeated as the musty scent of her arousal wafted to his nose. “And now, Prim Note.” Crown cupped his cheeks in her hooves and butted her forehead against his. “It won’t be the first time I’ve made love with one of the three ponies so dear to my heart. For a night and a day, let’s live our dream of a life where we may be as a Rosethorn and their lovers should.”

Note licked his lips. The notion was … tantalizing.

Academically and physically.

Four months apart had done little to diminish what they shared together. If nothing else, it simply doused everything in oil and flicked a match last night.

Again, he felt his cock slide forth from his sheath and press against her warmth. He could feel her teats on either side, drawing a shiver.

“H-How exactly would that be?” he asked, feigning a tone of mere academic interest as best he could manage. “If I weren’t a Prim and I happened to be a Rosethorn’s lover? How would our love be shared?”

Crown held her bottom lip between her teeth. A poor effort to stifle a salacious grin. “Let me show you …”

A touch of magic against his chest guided Note to roll to his back as Crown switched their positions so she might pin him to the cushion. Their lips met

After a little bit of friendly needling and prodding courtesy of Rosemary, they had finished their walk and talk around the palace garden together, a light, chipper mood settling over them. Stride even noticed that Collar seemed to perk up throughout the conversation—not that the stallion was ever particularly dour or ill-tempered without reason, but it showed.

He even got in a bit on banter here and there to help Stride fend off some of her teasings.

Stride stood by his friend’s side, smiling and shaking his head to himself. How was it that guarding a prisoner who had broken Damme’s laws on scent magic managed to lead to something like this?

Not that he could complain. Theirs was a friendship he treasured, even if Rosemary delighted in poking at some of his preconceived notions until she found a hole.

A playful snap of her tail across his ankle made him start. “No daydreaming, buster!” she mock scolded. Rosemary bumped shoulders with him and said, “If I weren’t a prisoner, I’d have to do something about those lapses in your attention.”

“Like what?” Stride furrowed his brows. “I’m not as bad as when we first met. I don’t just blather if you mention things.”

“Things?” she repeated with a flutter of lashes. A hint she knew just how well she could fluster him if she did start talking about sex. But, out of her room, she gave him some small measure mercy.

Instead, she leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Ask Seed about the time I tied his tail to his ponytail while he drifted off on the couch on my eleventh birthday.”

The pegasus turned to fix her with a look. He could just imagine a younger Seed waking, only to yelp as his mane and tail suddenly tugged on one another. “That,” he said after a moment. “That is just mean.”

Rosemary giggled. “Serves him right for being a lump on my birthday. And for slipping something to change the fragrance in my shampoo so I smelled like beetroot the time I visited the week before.”

Stride tried not to snort. Really, he did.

But all he could manage was to turn and look away so he wouldn’t meet her eyes as he bit the inside of his cheeks and tried his damndest to swallow his amusement.

He felt Rosemary looming. “Don’t you dare,” she threatened in her playful way. She stepped closer, trying to catch his eye again. “You’d better not laugh at me, Prim Stride.”

He shielded his face with a wing. “Me?” he squeaked, his voice strained. “Never.”

“Why would he?” Collar drawled. Mischief shone in his eyes, just as it had when he asked Stride about formal wear. “It’s such an interesting fragrance, isn’t it, Strides?”

Poor Stride didn’t have a chance.

He stole one quick glance at Rosemary—a mistake. All it took to imagine a little filly wearing that look, glaring at Seed, was a split second. And then, unbridled mirth.

The pegasus fell back on his haunches so he could cover his laughter with both wings and forelegs, and hide his face lest he see the retribution promised in Rosemary’s gaze.

“Lord Collar! Strides!” she protested with a stamp. “You two traitors!”

“Which stallion is in more trouble, Rosemary?” he heard Collar muse. “The one who struggled with his mirth and now cackles with glee? Or the one who gave him a nudge over the edge?”

Curiosity managed to poke against the back of Stride’s mind. He dared to peer through his feathers to see Rosemary fixing Collar with her very best glare. An effort in vain.

Even when she tried to give a low growl.

Collar simply grinned and asked, “Was it something I said?”

The Rosethorn blew a breath through her nose, shaking her head. “You … Youuuuu are gonna get yours.” Just then, Rosemary caught Stride just before he could hide again, and lowered her head in challenge. “Primfeather Stride.” She pawed lightly at the ground. “You’d best stop that snickering. You’d best stop it right this instant, or I promise, I’ll get you like I always get Seed!”

He just couldn’t help himself. It was her fault, anyway, that she and Cloudy had got him to banter more.

“Mane’s not long enough—pfffft!” Stride blurted before he stuffed his hooves in his mouth.

Rosemary gave a low, ominous laugh. “Oh, boy, do you wish that’s the only trick I know! You have three seconds—“

“Hang on, there,” Cloudy Rose’s voice called from the palace entry. She sauntered out, a bemused half-smirk on her lips, and took her place between the stallions. “I caught the tail end of this. What’s got you giggling, lunkhead?”

Stride lowered his wings so he might share a look with Collar, then stole the chance to smirk at Rosemary.

Now, her lips pressed together. Her cheeks, however, flushed such a deep crimson her markings disappeared. “Don’t you dare tell her,” she warned. “I’ll get you both.”

Swallowing, Stride averted his gaze. “N-Nothing, Cloudy,” he said. “Just … discussing some interesting fragrances.”

Cloudy arched her brow at him. “Uh-huh.” She flicked a look to Collar. “Any we can get you to try, love?”

“Why, yes,” Collar deadpanned. “I’ve developed a sudden and keen intrigue for beetroot.”

The only thing more hysterical than the look of sincere confusion on Cloudy’s face, was the angry, teakettle like noise Rosemary made before she marched up to the now-chuckling liege lord and did her best mimicry of her eldest cousin’s glare. The effect ruined by the smile threatening to tug at her lips.

All in all, the perfect scene to send Stride back under his wings to hide his laughter.

“You two boys,” Rosemary intoned. “Have a new lesson to learn.”

“Do we?” Collar mused.

“Yes. Take care when you play tricks with your Rosethorn friends, for ours are creative and made for us to savor.”

The stallion shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Her smile probably should’ve sent them running. “Oh, yes. Yes, we will, my lord.”

“Well.” Cloudy coughed into her hoof. “Fun as I’m sure that’s bound to be—and I do look forward to the chance to laugh at these two flailing at the mercy of a proper Rose—I need to commandeer this one.” She aimed a gentle kick at Stride’s backside, soft enough just to get his attention. “He owes me lunch at Tap’s.”

That was enough to stop Stride’s laughter in its tracks. He blinked, cocking his head to one side. “Wait, since when?”

“Since I beat you in a race.” She gave a meaningful raise of her brows. “Pigeon.”

The memory flashed before his eyes. Stride’s jaw set and ears splayed, he glared up at her. “You only won because you cheated!” he retorted.

Cloudy grinned. “Yeah? Well, think more like a Rosewing than a lunkheaded Primfeather, and maybe you won’t fall for that trick.” She turned, clipping his ears lightly with a wing, and added, “And here I had such high expectations that you weren’t on Gale’s level …”

It was blatant bait.

But damned if it didn’t get him on his hooves and straight in her face. “You still only barely won!” he insisted. “Race me from a dead start without your tricks, I’ll be waiting at the finish line with a mug of Dammerale!”

A gentle tugging of silver magic drew them apart. Collar shook his head, unable to hide a smile. “Okay, foals, knock it off or it’s no dessert after dinner.” He deftly sidestepped a bite to the shoulder, courtesy of Cloudy.

And right into Rosemary’s trap.

She snaked a hoof around his left foreleg and smirked. “Then if you’re claiming my debate partner, I’m claiming Lord Collar. He owes me for the terrible teasing he and Strides have put me through!”

“What a heinous accusation,” Collar drawled. With a smile, he bobbed his head. “Very well. We’ll have lunch and then you can join me while I do look over a few things. Your cousin should be by later …”

While they talked, Cloudy steered Stride toward the door with a nudge of her shoulder. “C’mon, you. Put your gear on a rack and let’s get to Tap’s before lunch.”

Stride grunted, but followed as asked. “Still a cheater,” he grumbled.

She laughed and touched a feather to his shoulder. An affectionate gesture, a friendly gesture. “And I’m gonna keep cheating ‘till you learn, boy.” Her wing slipped over his shoulders and drew him close. “One way or another, I’m gonna get you to think outside your helm. You’re better than just ‘flies fast.’”

Blinking, he turned to aim a surprised look at her.

That was …

Not expected.

“I am?”

“You can be.” A smirk played upon her lips. “Once you stop seeing the world in tunnel vision.”

His hoof caught on hers. Stride yelped and fell flat on his face, his ears ringing with the clatter of armor and her fleeing laughter.

“Last one there buys!” she called over her shoulder.

With an angry snarl, Stride bolted after her. That damn mare! She’d tripped him this time!