The Rose Way

The races Cloudy Rose and Prim Stride held on their way to Prim Tap and Lager’s would later become the stuff of legend to the populace.

For reasons Cloudy would insist were the absolute best sort.

There was no such thing as “unfair” in her vocabulary. A reality Stride had learned over the course of a year or two knowing the mare, but always seemed to forget at exactly the wrong moment to find himself tripping over a carefully placed hoof, clipped with a wing such that he turned into a barrel, or ended up tangled in a tarp or cloth of some sort.

These days, he’d gotten better, though!

He actually managed to trip her up with a lasso and tie the opposite end to the post just as she reached for the door.

If only he hadn’t made the mistake of lingering to stick his tongue out at her, he wouldn’t have ended up here, in this state.

Cloudy snared his right wing in a loose joint lock and smiled sweetly at him. “You untie my hoof,” she warned. “And we call this a draw.”

Damn.

His ears splayed. “You wouldn’t.”

“I might.”

“Lord Collar would be furious!”

“I’ll cope.”

He thought hard.

“Rosemary will be upset!”

Her smile faltered for a second, then returned. “She will,” Cloudy admitted. “But I could always arrange for her to care for her poor, pained debate partner. And you wouldn’t be able to fly to escape her games or mine …”

Stride swallowed.

Damn her. One day—one day!—he’d win.

He bowed his head in submission. “We drew,” he grumbled.

“Good boy.” She released his wing so she might reach up and tussle his mane. “Now hurry up and untie that rope. Sheesh! Did you have to do it so tight? My back left hoof is falling asleep!”

“Had to be sure you wouldn’t just slip out.” Stride gave the knot a tug, loosening the lasso enough that Cloudy could step free. He snorted, the scent of pickles still in his nose. “Letting me hit those pickle barrels was mean, by the by. You know I hate those.”

Her teeth stung his ear. “That’s the point, Strides. Wouldn’t be a lesson if it didn’t have unpleasant consequences.”

“I think you’re just making excuses to mess with me.”

“Well, a little, yes.” Before he could comment further, Cloudy butted her head against his shoulder, nudging him forward. “Come on, I’m hungry, and you’ve got the rest of your shift. Plus, I wanna hear about this rumor of you telling your brother off and sticking up for a pair of Rose dignitaries.”

Stride blew a sigh through his nose. “Not much to really say,” he muttered as they wove through the early lunchtime crowd and found a booth off in the back corner of the pub. “He was an ass and accused Rose Petal of luring Dammeguards, and her and Rose Seed of wanting to use my taste for wine to lure me.”

She snorted and slid into the seat opposite him. “So, you told him to clear off and went back to talking?” When he shrugged and nodded, Cloudy grinned and reached over to tussle his mane for the second time that day. “Look at you! A year ago, you’d have blathered something along those lines without a thought!”

The stallion glared, his ears drooping. “Yeah,” he muttered, carefully fixing his mane. “I would’ve.”

Her grin faded. “Strides, I’m just … Strides, I’m not saying it to make fun of you. I mean you’ve changed a lot in a year.” She held her hooves out wide and offered a smile. “C’mon, you took your lumps and we’ve moved on. Let me at least be a bit of a sap and tell you I see it once in a while.”

He hunched his shoulders. True, it did him well to hear that she and Collar recognized it.

That didn’t mean he didn’t still feel bad about it though.

“You’ve taught me a lot,” he muttered, finally. “You and Collar for a year, and Rosemary the past couple months.”

“You’ve listened and considered a lot,” she countered. The mare leaned back against her backrest, satisfied the moment had passed. “Which is why I know you’re better than ‘flies fast’ when you’re not tunnel—what are you looking around for?”

Stride squinted at her. “For the trick you’re about to hit me with.”

She stared, blinking slowly. Then, her ears ticked, and she gave a bark of laughter and a nod. “Okay, fair.” Those rosy eyes danced with delight. Whether that he’d been concerned for the trick or because he knew to look, he wasn’t certain. Probably both. “But seriously, I’m glad, you lunkhead. Good on you. Hey, Tap! Two Dammerale, please? Don’t let this numpty get the bill, either!”

“Wait, what?” Stride started. “But we drew?”

Cloudy’s brow arched in that warning way he knew to hint that he should take the gift and pipe down. It wasn’t so much a threat as it was just a way of accentuating her presence and place in his life.

It almost felt a bit more than that of a friend or comrade.

Not romantic, heavens no. Neither had particular interest for one another there.

It felt a bit like being taken under her wing.

All trips included.

So that arching brow meant he should accept that she was buying or else she’d batter his ears with a wing. Such was their relationship.

Stride dipped his ears in submission, and chose to change the subject. “How do I address them?” he asked.

Cloudy flicked an ear. “Address who?”

“Seed and Petal. They have titles. Should I be calling him Lord Seed and her … I don’t know, Heiress Petal?”

“You could in a formal setting. I’ll admit, I’ve met them and chatted, though I can’t say I’m overly close with them. They’re nice ponies. Not all that attached to formalities so much as they are interested in growing the Garden’s profits.”

Sensible of them. Pragmatic, even.

And it certainly lent credence to their talk last night.

Cloudy’s hoof prodded his wrist. “Why so concerned?” She scoffed. “You talked with them and they seemed fine, from what I’ve heard. Stars, there’s a rumor going ‘round courtesy of your mother that he had a spell on you!”

Stride groaned and covered his face with his hooves. “The Dammeguard were there! Lord Collar and Baroness Lace were there!”

“And Firelight Spark and Wandering Star, yes.” Hiding his face did little to drown out her chuckling. “But her little colt was talking and having a good time with a Rosethorn and his mate, and they with him. What else could it be?”

Her sarcasm was thick enough to spread on toast, and biting enough to make him whether she was more offended on behalf of her fellow Roses or him.

He chose both.

Stride drew his hooves down his face, sighing. “I don’t want to offend them,” he answered, finally. “Not by doing something silly like leaving off titles for nobles of higher standing, or in being … Primfeather. About your culture. Their culture.”

Again, her brow arched, though not in warning.

Cloudy shrugged. “Fair enough. I understand that.” She turned to accept their mugs from Prim Tap, and slid Stride’s over to him. “I mean, personally? If they didn’t introduce themselves by title at the start, I don’t think it matters to them. Stars, I’m a lesser noble than you and I’ve called him Seed.”

“And Petal?”

“Cares even less. Hers is more … well, not ceremonial, but it’s not as important as his.” She took a swig of Dammerale, smiling at its taste. “He’s damn close to the main line. Don’t ever imply that to him, though.”

Stride wrinkled his snout. “Why? Rosemary said they were close.”

“She and Rosewater are special cases. I mean the rest of them.” A shiver ran down her spine. “The Rosethorns of Rose Palace and those of the Garden are not amicable. No matter how they smile at one another during rare family gatherings.”

“Ah. Thank you for warning me.”

Cloudy nodded once. “Of course. As for the rest, relax. Be like you are around Rosemary and me—talk, laugh, try not to fluster so easily, and ask a question if you don’t understand. You’ll be fine.”

He bobbed his head, taking down mental notes. “Their way is … similar to yours? And Rosemary’s?”

“They follow Rosethorn’s teachings as he wrote them, yes.”

“Okay.” Those, he didn’t know by heart, but he knew some. The two month crash course he’d been getting from Rosemary in their debates and Cloudy from little chats like this helped.

He could work with that.

Lunch with them, spending time getting to know them didn’t seem quite as daunting then.

Stride drew in a deep breath. “Anything else I should know?”

Cloudy smirked. “Yeah, don’t go telling them lies like you’re faster than me,” she quipped. “Else I’ll have to beat you in front of them.”

Of course.

He smiled and took a drink. “Okay, I won’t go telling them lies like you’re faster than me, Cloudy.”

Her smirk spread into a warm, genuine smile. “You get that one, Strides. You get that one.” She took a deeper pull of her Dammerale, and added, “It’s good to hear you bantering again.”

“We always banter, though.”

“Not as much since the raid.”

Stride flinched.

He couldn’t hide it from her.

Those rosy eyes bored into his. “How have you been sleeping?” she asked, softly.

He swallowed, shifting in place. “Better last night,” came his answer. “The nightmares come and go.”

Cloudy searched him, seeking out any sign of falsehood. When she found none, she nodded. “Let me know if they start getting bad again, please.” The mare set her glass at the edge of their table, the universal sign in Prim Tap’s that it was in need of refilling. “We can see about finding something to help with them.”

His feathers twitching nervously, Stride ducked his head. “I’m trying,” he muttered.

“I know, Strides. I can see you’ve made progress, but …” She offered a crooked half-smile. “There’s nothing wrong with getting help after something like that.”

She’d said something similar before.

What was it she’d said the day he’d dived after the—

Cold spray hit him.

Stride gripped his mug tight, as if to make sure the wind wouldn’t rip it from his grasp.

He shook himself free before he heard the voices calling after him. “M-Maybe,” Stride stammered. Licking his lips, he asked, “You, er, have ideas?”

To her credit, Cloudy didn’t press him on his lapse.

But he wasn’t fool enough to think she’d missed it.

“If I can’t, I’m sure Baron Dapper or Rosemary would be happy to help.” She reached over and gave his wrist a gentle nudge. “Don’t hide it if this starts getting bad.”

Stride drew in a long, deep breath through his nose, and held it. A small measure of meditative comfort against these feelings.

He released it with a slow sigh. “I won’t, Cloudy,” he muttered. “I promise.”

The return trip was, thankfully, devoid of the same antics as their race to Prim Tap’s. Though, admittedly, that might have been because Cloudy hinted Lace would have her wings if she caused trouble like that twice in one day.

Stride, however, suspected something else. “You just didn’t want to race because you knew I’d win outright this time,” he teased as they ascended the steps to Prim Palace.

Cloudy swiped a wing across his ears. “You wish, Strides.” She smiled, a sign that there was no heat behind the act, as always. “Maybe if you worked out your wings as much as you do that mouth, you’ll be able to keep up.”

“I learned to mouth off from you, you know.”

“That, I doubt. You forget, I know Sunrise—I’ve heard you were a brat long before I got ahold of you.”

At the mention of his older sister’s name, Stride looked away. He loved Sunrise, really, he did. But their relationship for the past decade or so had been strained.

In no small part, he now realized, because he’d spent a good portion of it oscillating between bucking against their parents ideals and parroting them.

His wings rustled, a tell of how awkward he felt. “Yeah,” he muttered softly. “She’d know.”

Cloudy’s smile faded. “Something happen between you two? You both were kinda weird toward one another when she visited with your father.”

“Nothing wrong that’s new.” Stride sighed and shook his head. “We haven’t talked much the last few years. I think that was the first I’d really spoken to her since I left the house.”

“Ah.” Cloudy nudged him. “You should reach out to her. I bet she misses you.”

He grunted, flicking his tail. “My mouth didn’t exactly endear me to her growing up. And … I can see why now.”

They need not comment on that discovery. That she’d been with Rosemary after some party on the bridge.

A stinging of teeth against his cheek drew him out of those thoughts. “She’s been in a villa with your parents and your brothers, and the only one of the family with the sense to get out hasn’t spoken to her. Trust me, you ought to try.”

The younger of the pegasi gave an uncertain groan, but nodded anyway. Sunrise was …

Sunrise was kind.

She’d been kind, if quiet, when they were young. Stars, she used to hold him when he’d cry about how Gale and Gust and all the older foals teased him, and whisper that they’d see one day that he was special too.

Why couldn’t I just follow her example instead of theirs? he wondered.

How different might he have been when he’d met Cloudy and Rosemary if he had?

Again, Cloudy nipped at his cheek. “Give it a chance, lunkhead. You called my mom a whore and we’re friends. I’d say you’re not exiled from her life, based on how she hedged and hemmed and hawed trying to talk with you last time.”

“I’ll see about it,” he muttered, nodding his ascent. It would be nice if they could patch things up.

Stars, it’d be nice just to talk to her again.

How to get that started, though, was the main issue.

Together, the pegasi rounded the corner and headed toward Collar’s office to pick up Rosemary so he might resume the rest of his shift. His armor had been stashed on a rack in a side room in his haste to catch Cloudy, so that was easy enough to retrieve.

But it was as they rounded that last turn that all thoughts of reconnecting with Sunrise were promptly banished from his mind as he came nose to crimson heart adorned breast with Rosewater Rosethorn.

The heiress of Merrie started at their sudden appearance, then smiled. “Ah, here is your Cloudy Rose, my lord,” she teased, casting a glance over her shoulder toward Collar and Rosemary. “And the young Dammeguard who sought your leave of the Gala last night. Prim Stride, I believe? His scent is quite distinctive.”

“Correct.” Collar bobbed his head. “Lance Corporal Prim Stride, Lady Rosewater. I believe you’ve seen him on occasion, swapping duties.”

“Aha. Duties, indeed.” Rosewater caught Stride’s eye, a hint of mischief entered her smile. “I do hope my cousin behaves in your company. I hear she causes our Lord Collar and dear Cloudy Rose plenty of trouble as it is.”

“More than you know!” Cloudy chimed.

On cue, Rosemary feigned a huff and stamped her hoof. “I do not! Strides, tell her!” she demanded.

Under the rosy-eyed gaze of one of the most powerful scent mages in the region, Stride tried to edge subtly back, and kept his head bowed. “R-Rosemary’s taught me quite a bit, Lady Rosewater,” he managed to croak. “Our conversations have been, um, interesting.”

Was it just him, or did her smile falter just slightly?

But just as soon as he’d noticed, Rosewater rallied and reaffixed it to her face.

“That does me well to hear,” she said, returning her attention to the younger Rosethorn. “Alas, I suppose this means you’ll be returned to your quarters?”

Rosemary dipped her ears. “I should, yes.” Then, a bit of hope entered her eyes. “Though, you could visit. Once your business with Lord Collar is concluded.”

Stride felt his heart sink into his stomach, and hoped dearly it didn’t show on his face.

Humming, Rosewater shared a look with Collar. “I would like that. If our lord finds it agreeable.” She raised her brows, adding, “I do have tidings to bring from our, aha, favored layabout cousin.”

The look Rosemary shot him practically crowed “See? I told you!” To Rosewater, she beamed and trotted up so they might share a brief embrace. “I’d love that,” she whispered, turning to Collar so she might fix him with a pleading look.

Gracious as ever, he nodded once. “You only needed ask. We’ll rejoin once your cousin and I conclude the day’s negotiations, then. After you, Lady Rosewater—ah! Just a moment, Strides.” He lit his horn and floated a sealed envelope to the pegasus before he could try to get a lead down the corridor. “A runner came with Rose Seed’s reply. I thought it best not to keep him, so I held onto it. I haven’t read it, of course.”

Stride swallowed and accepted the envelope with a bow. “Th-Thank you, my lord. Er, Rosemary? Shall we, um, go? And Cloudy will you be coming with us, or …”

Cloudy gave him a gentle nudge. “Yeah, I’ll stick around and see what trouble you two have been up to, I think.” She gave a little bow to Rosewater, adding, “Excuse us, Lady Rosewater. Come along, you two.”

As the elder pegasus ushered Rosemary and he along to begin their trek to the mare’s chambers, Stride held his lip between his teeth, the rumors and comments from this morning and the previous night demanding he steal a quick glance over his shoulder.

What he saw nearly made him stop in place.

Prim Collar and Rosewater Rosethorn stood together, alone for but a moment, smiling at one another. Their postures were completely at ease, barren of any inkling of formality or gap between them. In this light, in this situation, they looked more like old friends than the heirs of rival cities at war.

Again, Collar’s words from the Gala and their talk in the palace gardens floated to the forefront of his mind. A friendlier face in Merrie was needed. The war could end soon, Damme, despite recent events, had an advantage.

But what would help more than any military action would be the support of the common pony in both cities. Which regime respected the other’s culture enough to show that it would take no action to diminish it?

If that was the case …

This is the right path, he realized. They can bring us together. That’s why he wanted me to do the same.

Stride’s decision was affirmed then and there.

Rosewater Rosethorn, the scent mage, frightened him terribly. But if the mare herself, the heiress of Merrie and Rosethorn’s legacy, could reach a hoof across the river and clasp it with Prim Collar’s, then it was worth the discomfort Stride felt.

Respectfully and courteously, as Collar asked. Mindful of this goal and Rosemary’s feelings. That’s how he would speak to her when required. If required at all.

He could fight the fear well enough for that.

With his mind made up, Stride put that aside and settled in on their walk to Rosemary’s room. He kept Seed’s letter tucked under wing until he closed the door behind them and set his helm on the table.

Just in time for Rosemary to give his shoulder a light prodding with a touch of magic. “Open the letter!” she urged, settling into a seat beside Cloudy. Close enough that her lover didn’t need fully extend a wing to touch a feather against her side. “Tell me when you’re going to lunch with them.”

“Demanding, isn’t she?” Cloudy teased and earned herself a pinch on the shoulder. “And testy! That comment about beetroot really got your dander up, didn’t it? One of you wanna explain?”

Stride coughed and turned his eyes upon the envelope as though it required his full attention to open, a rather pitiful effort to escape Rosemary’s wrathful gaze and the inherent promise of retaliation should he dare utter a word.

Instead, he retrieved the letter and gave it a quick once over, reading out Seed’s surprisingly neat, flowing writing.

To our friend Prim Stride,

I should think we can meet tomorrow and the day after for lunch, given your availability. We shall, of course, stick to the Damme side of the river.

Petal has asked that we try to keep to a bit of lighter fare, but since you’ll be our host, I put it to you. Where would you prefer to dine?

I’ll look forward to receiving your answer tomorrow. Let’s meet on the Damme side of the Primrose—we’ll cross at the Rosewine and make our way over so we don’t force you to fly the distance in the midst of your shift.

Kind regards,

Rose Seed

With a smile playing upon his lips, Stride passed Seed’s letter over to Rosemary. “Tomorrow and the day after,” he said softly. “I just need to think of a place to go with them in Damme.”

The Rosethorn mare gave it a quick once over, humming to herself. “One day,” she said, “you need to let one of us entertain you in Merrie. I know a few places you’d love, and I’m certain Seed knows quite a number as well.” With a nod, she reclined n her seat and smiled. “So, where will you take them? Please tell me not the same pub you two go every day.”

Stride thought of that for a second, then blanched. “Not around lunchtime,” he replied with a shudder. “Stars, my cousins pack in Prim Tap’s like fish swimming upriver. They gave a Rosethorn stallion quite a time there the other day before an off-duty Dammeguard told them to shove off.”

“Do you know which one?” Cloudy asked, mildly interested.

“Er … one of the more bookish ones, I think. Prim …” He wrinkled his snout. “Note? I think Prim Note.”

“Ah, good old Note. Nice guy, keeps to himself, but you don’t wanna get on his bad side.” She grinned. “Boy’s as cold as a blizzard when he’s angry.”

He bobbed his head and casually filed that away for future reference. Stride didn’t know Prim Note much at all—just something about an old partner who’d abruptly retired and left for part of Merrie to be with a few lovers—but if that’s who was always at the corner seat of Prim Tap’s, well, it was probably best not to upset a regular.

Especially not one who could becalm a crowd of indignant Primfeathers with a few words.

Still, he didn’t exactly know what sort of things Seed and Petal would like. And it was mentioned that Petal was hoping for a bit of lighter fare for lunch. That, he should consider.

Merriers had a bit of a different style of preferred meal, anyhow.

There were two right here before him …

So, he put it to them. “Er … maybe this is more a question for Cloudy, only because I’m not sure if you’ve eaten here, Rosemary, but—“ he licked his lips “—what sort of places do you like to go when you’re looking for a lighter meal?”