The Rose Way

It probably made Seed more than a bit of an oddball to be happy after a run in with a Dammeguard after the mess Roseate and her daughters caused with their attack on Prim Collar. Stars, forget happy, he’d bypassed that and skipped straight to downright prancingly giddy once he and Note quitted that pub and the name registered in his head.

Already, he could imagine Dazzle’s face. His joy would start with perking ears, then light dawning in his eyes. And his smile?

As bright and handsome as his firework spells, or his face in the throes of passion.

This, though. This would be different.

Brighter, more vibrant. And it would take an effort of will not to kiss the stallion silly for showing that sort of joy again. The same, Seed wagered, as the night he’d hesitantly confessed.

“I, er …” Once again, the teasing pest was a stammering, blushing stallion, just like their first night together, and again the night Petal had first invited him to mount her. “I … don’t want to go home.”

Seed remembered looking at Petal, a glass of Prancing Petunia Passion hovering halfway to his lips while they three dined and looked out across the Merrie.

Petal had smiled. “We’d love you to stay.”

Rosewing Breeze shot him a look as Seed passed by the guards positioned on either side of the invisible line separating the two sides of the bridge. “Stars above, Seed,” he groaned. “Save a little bit of happiness for the rest of the world, eh?”

Snickering, Seed snapped a bolt of magic across the pegasus’s shoulder, and ducked a swipe of his wing. “You keep groaning and bellyaching like that and I’ll make sure Kiss knows you don’t want an invitation to the next big party.” A waggle of his brows preceded his next, “I hear he’s looking for volunteers for a nice, long night shift!”

The glare which came in reply could have scorched his hindquarters. Neither meant it, of course. Breeze just liked to be contrarian.

Which made it all the more fun when Seed got him in the Petal Game, and rode him for each and every one of his little comments.

Just as Seed set hoof on Merrie soil, the rosy cobblestones stained with wine spilled from merriment, leaky casks, and the occasional fallen bottle during a dance, a melodious voice of incomparable beauty rose in song and floated to his ears.

His eyes widened. A familiar voice. An entrancing one, should she put her will into it.

Seed felt his muscles tensing, he let his eyes scan the beach, checking over each group of ponies clustered together as they walked along the river and tried to enjoy the last weeks before the winter chill made it an unbearable location. Among the groupings of social loves and bonded ponies and friends merely enjoying a night of relative peace, he saw her.

Seated on the west side of the bridge, right at the edge of the water so she might enjoy the way the noontime sun danced upon the water’s surface like flecks of golden fire, his cousin sat with a spyglass laying by her right flank, her posture straight and chin raised to let her voice carry to listeners on either side of the river.

It was the perfect atmosphere for Rose Crown to sing another masterpiece of matters of the heart and passion.

Rosy eyes met. Behind her glasses, Crown winked. A flick of her ear beckoned him to come and sit by her side.

So, not just here to be a romantic. Sighing, Seed altered course and headed to the beach to meet his cousin. Please just be asking when your invites to the winter socials can be expected. Or pry about Petal’s latest project. Don’t be here for her.

Her song trailed off to a chorus of applause from her audience. Graciously, Crown turned to bow her head in thanks before turning her gaze upon Seed, still standing a couple paces away.

“If I knew you did free shows,” he mused. “I think I’d have asked you to start singing at our winter socials years ago.”

She tilted her head, an invitation to sit. “I’m afraid I do not,” came her reply, coy as ever. “But should the mood hit at the right time, perhaps. Incidentally …”

Seed rolled his eyes skyward. “We’ll be late sending out invitations, unfortunately. Complications.”

“I understand. Crisp asked first, before you fix me with that look.”

Feeling just a little cheeky, Seed did anyway. And earned himself a sigh and minute shaking of her head.

Crown was an interesting one, to say the least. There were about half of Roseate’s daughters, his cousins alongside Rosemary from Roseate’s sister, who were actually good ponies. Decent ponies.

Just held beneath her iron hoof, through some means or another.

“So,” he continued. “If you don’t do free shows, might I inquire as to whom you just sang? Or is this your verve calling you to fill the air with beauty?”

“The verve calls me to sing for my loves today,” came her answer, coupled with a contented smile and sigh. She closed her eyes. “And one, alas, I must coax along that he finally bloom for us.”

Seed raised a brow. “Really? Singing to help a flower bloom? I might advise water and feed, cousin.”

“As a matter of fact, I water and feed him quite well when he is in my hooves.” Her smile grew, and told of fondness. “But I’d read that song encourages plants to grow more beautifully, and I believe his will be a most beautiful bloom indeed. So, I shall see if I can make it so, that my loves and I may behold it together.”

An analogy Seed could support. Stars, why couldn’t she have become a Gardener before Roseate brought her to heel?

Still, a question entered his mind and demanded its voice. “Does this flower of yours have a choice whether or not he might bloom for you?”

Crown’s gaze snapped to him, her rosy eyes sparking with fury. “Each of my loves chose,” she whispered slowly, deliberately. “Each chose to bloom for me, and the choice is his as well.”

Seed held up his hooves. “My apologies, but I had to ask.” He licked his lips, avoiding her eyes to escape that glare. “After she leaned on you to join those two raids, I wasn’t sure she wouldn’t push you on that next.”

The younger Rosethorn eyed him a moment longer as though she wished to find a hint of falsehood to his words. After a few seconds to consider them, she heaved a sigh and faced forward.

“Not yet,” she murmured quietly. Crown drew in a deep breath, her eyes trained on somepony or something across the river. In the same tone, she added, “She’s heard about the Dammeguard.”

“Hmm? Which one?” Seed feigned ignorance. “There’s quite a number—“

“You’re not a fool, Rose Seed, and I’ll thank you not to think me fool enough not to see what others miss thanks to your little act.” A sharp glare forestalled any further effort to feign ignorance before Crown returned her attention to other side of the river. “The gossip reached her ears this morning. Only a short while after your visit to Prim Palace.”

Which means I’ll hear about acting within my rights again.

With his lazy smile plastered carefully across his features, Seed sighed and looked to the sky as if to find that pegasus. “I suppose she had to eventually. I hope she took it well.”

“No,” Crown answered simply. “No, she did not.”

A furrow creased his brows. “You can’t be serious. She can’t honestly be upset about that, can she?”

“That it was a Dammeguard who rescued the foal rather than a Merrieguard? Rather than one of her Merrieguard? Yes. It breaks her narrative she’s been writing about us versus them.”

“I see.” Curious, the stallion stole a look at her face, watching for any tells. “And what narrative, pray tell, would you write about him?”

Her expression didn’t waver for an instant. “For once, non-fiction.”

Stars above. Seed had to fight not to turn and face her, to meet her as family and offer her aid. “Dangerous words to utter aloud,” he murmured.

“Perhaps.” Now, her lips twitched. Only slightly. “If my watchers weren’t so bewitched by that little verse about sunlight on the river.”

Not much time then.

“What would you propose I do, then?”

“Nothing but what you would naturally do.”

“Unfortunately, your mother seems wont to complicate that. I’m asking what you imply I should do regarding her intrigue?”

Crown flicked a glance at him. “You? Nothing.” She hummed a note, as if finding her next tune. “I expect the Lord Heir of Damme will counter any intrigues she dreams up. My sister also appears wont to disappear at odd times and make no mention of whence she’s gone, then reappear with as little fanfare. Make of that what you will.”

Leaning more on Collar and Rosewater until we’re ready for him. Or he’s ready for us to receive him. Seed feigned a boisterous yawn, and said, “How ever will I have time to make anything of that? I am, after all, merely sleepwalking with my eyes open, in your mother’s words.”

Another look, the same as her previous chiding, spoke volumes.

They were both learning quite a bit about one another, it seemed.

Seed closed his eyes, dreading what he knew would come next. “I suppose you’ll tell me now that I’m to expect a summons?”

“That’s actually the reason I’m here.” Crown hummed again, working on that pitch. “Since you won’t allow Rosejoy anywhere near the Garden of Love, mother sent me. For which, I’m quite grateful. The mare has been strutting about, acting as though she could ever be a noblemare. As if she could ever be more than muscle, with the way she drinks and sniffs herself into oblivion each night.” Pausing to allow Seed a moment to chuckle and shake his head, she added, “And since this is the one place I can come to find a goblet of wine so delicious, I’m less liable to be sent away for want to stay in your good graces.”

“Mm. I see. And the chance to voice your wonder as to when you’ll receive your invitations is entirely coincidental, I’m sure.”

He didn’t bother dodging the snap of magic across his shoulder. That one, he’d deserved.

With that, he knew, it was time to get going.

Seed rose and stretched his legs, grimacing. “What time?”

“After breakfast.”

“Very well then. Summons received, and all that. Always a pleasure.”

“Always.” She flicked her left ear. Out of the corner of his eye, Seed noticed a necking couple a dozen or so paces away jolt and shake their heads. “Now if you’ll excuse me …”

He smirked. “Happy, aha, gardening.”

The cousins shared mutual bows of the head before Seed turned and trotted back to the path. Over his shoulder, he heard the first notes of Crown’s song rise upon the wind.

Hopefully she got to see that stallion bloom bright for her and all her loves.

How exactly could one enjoy the many, many perks of being born daughter of the Baroness Roseate, ruler of the famed City of Delights, when setting hoof in Rose Palace would garner a venomous scolding and reminder of her failings?

Rosetail pondered this question quite a lot in the weeks following the failed raid, their failure to entrance and take Primline Collar and effectively force Damme the submit to Rosethorn victory. Thanks to some strange spell he’d dreamed up to make himself …

Unstoppable. Unbothered by scent or glamour.

And then, there was Rosewater, happy to intervene.

On behalf of the Lord Heir of Damme.

The stallion she’d claimed would be her mate, bound to the Rose Way. Ruined, thanks to her.

Leaving her younger sisters to suffer in her stead.

Right now, it gave her something to think about while she kept rhythm with her chosen bedmate for the night. She could feel his grip tightening around her barrel, a sharp nip at the back of her neck coupled together with his hot, ragged breath playing across her shoulder. Roseate’s youngest daughter arched her back and rolled her hips, pressing her buttocks flush against his eager thrusting.

Quiver Quill was his name. The son of a merchant who sold almost exclusively to Roseate and her supporters, followers of the Rose Way despite the lack of real nobility to their family name. Himself, Quiver had aspirations to join the Merrieguard.

He had aspirations to be a part of Roseate’s victory procession through Damme, straight up to Prim Palace.

His wings traced her thighs in practiced, teasing circles. Routine for him. A little play he so delighted in visiting upon the mares he bedded when he neared his climax, and failed to realize how bedmates talked and shared.

But what he lacked in creativity, Quiver made up for with the vigor of his efforts. Rosetail could almost close her eyes and use the sensations of a stallion’s cock plunging into her depths, his balls slapping against her buttock and the lustful groan building within his chest to spur a fantasy of her own.

A fantasy for herself.

In her mind’s eye, Rosetail fashioned for herself a vision of a gorgeous pegasus, just taller than she. Just enough so she might trail herself beneath his chin whenever she wished to drive the dear boy to distraction and tempt him toward nights filled with passion and pleasures of the flesh.

His wings would be broad and powerful, his shoulders too, honed by years spent laboring to corral the wild storms which descended upon the region. Or by the iron hooves and whiplike tongue of the guard, honing his body into a sleek form, begging for a mare’s touch and caress. And when he displayed his feathers, spreading them wide so she might moon over them …

Her eyelids fluttered. The young mare’s lips wrapped around words never fully given voice, her heart racing as she felt the ghosting of her fantasy stallion’s touch laying over Quiver’s. From nothing, she gave him a voice, that he might whisper his addiction and need for her in between breaths.

Quiver lurched and gave a jerky buck of his hips, a ragged gasp tearing from his lips as his cock flared and spilled hot seed into her.

The vision of a pegasus cried out her name in ecstasy and rode his climax until his breath failed him.

In dream and reality, the paths diverged further.

Quiver Quill drew his hips back slowly, his cock sliding free of her glistening slit with a shiver which rippled through his belly. He gave Rosetail a light bump of the nose to her shoulder, and then released his grip on her barrel and rolled over to his back.

Letting Rosetail stay with her breast laying against the mattress, her rump still elevated and legs splayed.

“Stars above!” he moaned. A satisfied smile spread slowly across his lips. Quiver gazed up at the ceiling, his eyes glazed with the pleasures still playing through his body after a full release. “Hoo! Needed that after a long week, Tail. Thanks.”

Her eyes clenched shut. Rosetail blew a breath through her nose and let her hind legs slide out from under her so her body fell to the mattress with a flop and a creaking of springs. “Mhmm,” she muttered into the pillow, a deep sense of disappointment filling her heart.

She felt him shift over and bump his snout against her cheek. “Look, I’m sorry we wouldn’t come by for a bit, all right? Is that what you want me to say? But can you blame us?” Quiver snorted and rolled back over. “Your mother was on the bloody warpath! Mom was sure business would struggle if I came, and you know Morning Glow’s got her little shop—“

Excuses. Always excuses when she was left wanting.

And always empty rutting and angling otherwise.

Rosetail’s horn lit, filling her modest bedroom in Silk and Vine’s home with the vibrant, rose pink glow of her magic. Teasing static traced along the edges of her lower lips like a devoted lover’s tongue, a touch she so craved, yet could never find.

Not in her bedmates.

Not in mother’s approved friends.

Her visionary pegasus, though, made sure she didn’t want for anything. When he withdrew himself from her depths, he held her tighter and pitched forward, his chest pressing against her back as he hissed against the cold. Even still, he didn’t leave her.

He laid her down upon the bed with a loving turn of his hooves, his touch turning her that she laid upon her side. Rosetail blinked her bleary eyes as he gave the tired sigh of a lover sharing in the afterglow and turned her over with a gentle nosing against her shoulder, a wing upon her left leg coaxing her to splay it wide that he could lay upon her and let his cock settle against her slit.

While Quiver Quill chattered away, this stallion cupped her cheeks in his hooves and rub his nose against hers. His tongue flicked along her lips, a deep, satisfied hum rolled in the back of his throat. Rosetail watched his wings unfurl slowly, as though drawing back the curtains upon the lead performer of those delicious pegasus dancers.

“—Oh! Uh, so, I have news!” Quiver’s voice managed to pierce through her fantasy long enough to spare him a sidelong look. “Mom was finally able to get me an audience with your mother, and I told her I wanted to join the Merrieguard.”

Rosetail gave a noncommittal hum while she dreamed of a lover proudly displaying his feathers for her. A sign of the way she filled his heart with adoration and need.

“Yeah! Matter of fact, she seemed rather pleased. Said she was glad to see another young, loyal Merrier willing to stand up for our way against the Prims. She must see something in me, right?”

The young mare allowed her daydream to be put on hold while she regarded her bedmate and compared him against the Dammeguards she’d seen the night of their raid. Even surprised, even off-balance, they’d fought ‘till they fell to tangle vines or scent magic.

In her mind, she set Quiver against her vision, the stallion now garbed in Dammeguard blue and purple, his head bowed in surrender as he and his fellows submitted to Rosethorn rule and swore new allegiance to Merrie.

Solemn and resolute, a far cry from the distant sneer and preening of the one in her bed.

Notably distant.

“Mm. I can’t say what mother feels.” Rosetail affixed her gaze upon the ceiling for a moment, and gave her vision a mental prod to resume its phantom affections. She closed her eyes, adding, “But, personally, I suspect you’ll serve as well as you service a mare.”

She could hear the grin in how he snorted a laugh. “Yeah, probably. Thanks, Tail.”

Idiot.

The stallion in her vision shook with silent laughter.