The Rose Way

How fast … How fast …

Dammeguard! Dammeguard, stop!

I need to know …

Stop. Relax.

Will you fly to reach them?

A gentle hoof touching his shoulder jerked Primfeather Stride out of darkness and mist and cold water spraying across his face, and back to present. Back to the safety of Prim Palace.

Eyes the color of angry storm clouds blinked owlishly. Stride shook himself and looked up to meet Collar’s gaze. “Huh?”

His liege lord’s brow furrowed. “I asked how you’re doing this morning, Strides,” Collar repeated, his voice low. He cast a quick look across the small circular table, meeting eyes with his intended mate and future Lady of Damme, Cloudy Rosewing, and then back. “Your ears aren’t betraying nerves near as much as they were yesterday.”

Stride drew in a slow, deep breath and forced a smile. “Just not sleeping well, my lord,” he replied. He glanced toward the opposing door of the lone prison cell in Prim Palace—a cell in name alone, in reality, a guest room repurposed to house a mare guilty only of being pressured into service.

The younger stallion shook himself and returned his attention to Collar. If the mare wanted to take a bit to freshen herself up for a surprise visit, it was only polite he not stare like an impatient minder. Still, he had to wonder why he’d been summoned to the palace on his day off.

Does it count for her game if she let out a squeak and fled for the bath and told us to wait around the table before calling out our names? Stride’s left ear twitched thoughtfully. Though she did scold Collar for not telling her I’d be visiting earlier than usual …

When he noticed Cloudy eying him, her feathers giving an expectant twitch, he added, “I’ve had trouble for the past couple nights.”

Cloudy’s ears flattened. “Strides,” she said, barely avoiding a slight growl to her tone. “Come on, don’t make us pull every detail out of you. How long have you slept the past two nights?”

He winced. “I couldn’t say.” Stride found interest in a slight circular pattern in the woodwork at the center of the table. A little piece of the world away from those piercing rosy eyes. “Three hours each? Maybe? I don’t know.”

“In a row?” she pressed.

Another wince, this time coupled with a shrug.

The table circle really was nice.

Cloudy reached out and touched his shoulder with a feather. “Are you sure you’re okay in that house of yours?” she asked. The edge to her tone had gone with his answer, replaced by a softer note.

Glancing up at her, Stride offered a hesitant smile. If their roles were reversed, she’d have scoffed and swatted his ear with a wing and told him not to mollycoddle her.

A lesson he’d learned the first time he tried sparring her.

“My house is fine. It’s quiet.” The house wasn’t causing him to see or hear those things again. Stride drew in a deep breath and forced the feeling of vines playing teasing games across his coat to subside, though not without a slight shiver in his shoulders.

They both noticed.

Stars, they’d have had to be blind not to see.

Collar shared a quick look with his love, his ears ticking just slightly. “Why don’t I send for some tea?” he offered. “It’ll help soothe your nerves a bit.”

The look his lover shot him suggested, even to Stride, that wasn’t quite what she had meant to convey with her gaze, and one of his ears would be chewed for that. Stride certainly didn’t envy him.

The heir of Damme did it regardless, a polite gesture. A Prim gesture.

One he knew would give Stride something to latch onto and hold tight.

“The nightmares haven’t left you, have they?” Collar asked. His brows knitted together, concerned. “The ones that started after the raid.”

Another shiver. The visions rushed forth to grab him by the throat and held tight.

He shook his head.

“They were … they weren’t as bad. For a couple days.” Stride licked his lips. He could feel his feathers bristling, his wings itching to fly for safety. “Then at the bridge …”

The pegasus blinked once.

And he was diving, diving toward the frigid waters of the Merrie River. The screams of ponies below filled his ears along with the shrieking of wind pulling at his face, his mane.

His helm.

A prodding hoof jolted him back into Rosemary’s room. Stride gasped and clutched his chest. His wings, he realized, were just slightly unfurled.

Diving position.

Cloudy’s eyes held him in place, held his such that he couldn’t look away.

Every pegasus knew that posture.

He licked his lips. “It’s just me,” Stride said, giving a smile he didn’t quite feel. “Just all up here, you know? Like everything you used to kick me around for.” Raising a hoof, he prodded the side of his head. “And ever since … ever since that night …”

When he blinked again, Stride felt his breath hitching in his throat as he gazed up at a mare wreathed in a rose hue of starlight. She leaned down and whispered to him.

Stop. Relax.

A dumb, complacent smile spread across his lips then. The tickle of silk upon his mouth matched in pleasant feeling only by its lovely scent, and that of the flowers blooming from the vines hugging his shoulders.

This time, Stride shook himself free and stole a glance toward the door. Stars, how long did it take Rosemary to bathe and groom in the morning? And why so long when he needed rescuing?

He released a shuddering breath. “I just remember going under. And then … and then, a voice through the fog. Her voice, and purple lights. And then—“

Cloudy laid a hoof upon his ankle. “No more,” she murmured, and gave him a minute shake of her head. “You’re hurting yourself, reliving it like this.”

If only he could just stop so easily. But his mind could be such a treacherous devil, it seemed.

Especially these days.

Fortune smiled upon the young pegasus, for he was spared further prodding the clicking of a latch. The bathroom door opened to reveal a beaming mare with a coat the same pink as carnation petals, and a braided main of flowing gold which shimmered in the morning sun.

“Much better!” Rosemary smiled, the crimson Rosethorn markings upon her cheeks dimpling in a way that almost begged one to nuzzle and kiss to tease further joy from her heart. She fixed Collar with a look of mock severity and huffed. “That was mean, my lord! Not telling me you and Cloudy were going to bring my favorite little debate partner as a surprise today!”

Collar returned her glare with an innocent smile. “Well, I just thought since you’d been a good little mare—“

Both pegasi snorted, earning themselves an arching of her brow and a smirk.

Stride had to duck his head and look down to hide the smile threatening to spread across his features.

“—I might bring you a couple pegasi to play with,” Collar finished. After a beat, he added, “And for the record, he was my Dammeguard before your debate partner. In fact, I’m the one who set that up, so I get first pick.”

“So you think!”

“Oh, really? Fine. Stride, let’s adjourn to my office and—“

Rosemary found herself the seat to Stride’s immediate right, and caught the hoof Cloudy left free. “Sorry! Pretty mares have claimed a hoof each!” She waggled her ears. “The Hoof Law of Merrie clearly states he can’t leave ‘till we say so.”

“I am quite certain you’re making that up.”

“Ask Baron Dapper!” Those rosy pink eyes of hers danced like twinkling stars. “He’ll take my side.”

The flat look Collar sent in reply gave a rather clear indication of just how much he trusted his father to give an honest answer when the chance to cause mischief was presented. A look betrayed by the slightest twitching at the corner of his mouth.

Three knocks sounded out against the door. Their tea, no doubt.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll grant you a victory.” He winked before turning to open the door. “Just this once.”

“Hardly! And it’s Coat! I’m still undefeated!” Rosemary gave a deep, meaningful sniff, grinning as she brushed her cheek against Stride’s. “And my not calling your name doesn’t count against me, Stride. I knew it was you. So you quit chewing those cheeks to hide a smirk, or I’ll coax forth that blush I so adore.”

Stride laughed quietly. “I figured that by the way you dove into the bathroom and yelled at Collar.”

She turned, her nose tickling his chin. “I did not yell. I scolded. Cloudy, back me up here.”

Laughing, Cloudy shook her head. “Nuh-uh, keep me out of this. You two play nice, and don’t make this boy fall faint before we take care of some our actual business today. Enforcing Hoof Law is my only part in this one.” She brought Stride’s hoof up and gave it a little waggle. “Making him squirm and preen is your job once that’s done.”

Now, Stride had to duck his head. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Your options are her doing it or Coat doing it. He’s married, so you’re out of luck.” Cloudy nodded in greeting to their comrade, accepting her tea with thanks. “Unless Collar wants to, but that’d be a first with a stallion—oh, quit making faces, I know you enjoy Dammer’s Tea, you brat!”

Rosemary stopped pretending to gag just long enough to stick her tongue out at her. A spirit of liveliness and joy shone bright in her heart, as it did every day.

A balm against the trials of the last few weeks.

She’s worried for all of us too. Stride watched her laugh and banter with Cloudy for a moment, fondness bleeding into his smile. She’s got space in her heart for half the world at least, and she was up worried about all of us that night and then me after the bridge.

Tea brought with it a nice sense of calm to the morning. Albeit one which required some stammered pleas for release of his hooves that he might partake in tea himself and another for Collar’s aid in negotiating terms when Rosemary coyly offered to levitate it to his lips.

Mercifully, Collar showed the firm, fair ruler he would be when the barony was his and managed to secure for Stride a temporary Stay of Hoof-Holding order—Rosemary insisted he use something other than execution—in exchange for his vow that he would not order Stride to join him elsewhere for their business and Stride’s that he would, at some point during winter, join her to discuss Merrie’s Hearth’s Warming customs.

Considering it might help him avoid his family a little longer, or even give him something to tweak their feathers a bit, Stride came away feeling he’d won out on that deal.

Once they’d all finished their tea and settled into their respective cushions, Collar looped a band of shimmering silver magic under the table and lifted a bundle of letters into view.

“I knew I smelled musty paper and ink,” Rosemary mused with a smile. Then, she blinked and perked her ears. A more pegasus sign of intrigue than typical Rosethorn. “Though, that’s not the normal scent.”

Stride fixed her with a look. “You’re gonna tell me paper has a distinct scent now?”

“Yes, but the scent of the paper isn’t what I meant.”

He dared to flick a chiding feather across her shoulder. “Uh huh. Quit tugging my feathers.”

She turned so they were nose to nose. “Oh, don’t tempt me to really start tugging, dear Stride.” In a low, playful purr, she added, “Or we’ll see just how well those dapples of yours glow.”

The months he’d spent acting as one of her guards had taught Stride better than to doubt her word. In this area.

Rosemary was earnest, but a Merrier. Word games and double-meanings were her stock and trade, her actions told the story and gave a real glimpse into her heart.

Wisely, Stride pressed his lips together and dipped his ears in submission, earning himself a gentle nip.

“Good boy,” Rosemary teased. Returning her attention to Collar, she fixed him with that curious look. “I know those scents well. Grapes from Rosewine Vineyard, and the hills and flowering community gardens. The air around Garden of Love carries those scents.”

Collar flicked an ear. “Right in one. One day, Rosemary, we’ll find something to fool your nose.” He then offered a slight smile and glanced at Stride. “They’re for you.”

Stride blinked, his ears ticking back and forth. He stared at Collar for a moment, then Rosemary. Then, he said, “Why? I don’t know anypony in the Garden of Love.”

“You know me,” Rosemary teased, bumping shoulders with him. “I may not be of the Garden, but I was a regular guest when I was younger. And sporadically over the last few years.”

“I didn’t—okay, fine, but you didn’t live there before all this did you?” When she shook her head, Stride raised his brows. “So I’m still right.”

Rosemary rolled her eyes, then gave him a little shove.

But she couldn’t refute him. Thus, Stride managed to claim a rare victory over his silver-tongued friend, and let it show in the slightest fluffing of his feathers.

It stopped once he noticed the crinkling near her eyes and the smile tugging at her lips, and realized this victory would come at cost.

Collar coughed to regain their attention. “Hoof law doesn’t apply to his attention, by the by. And don’t grab them, you two, he’s going to need those.” He pushed the bound stacks of letters across the table with a little nudge of magic, nodding to Stride. “Just delivered yesterday by way of Garden representatives.”

“Ah.” Stride let his ears flatten. “Why?”

To his left, Cloudy sighed. “Gee, I wonder, you lunkhead,” was all the warning she gave before he had to duck a swipe of her wing. “Why might ponies from Merrie send something to you, Strides? What did you do two days ago?”

A ghost of cold water sprayed across his face.

Stride shivered, his feathers bristling against the cold.

Cold that wasn’t here.

And a foal who wasn’t in the water.

Will you fly …

“Ease up, love,” Collar chided. To Stride, he offered a smile. “That colt you saved was of the Garden, Strides. Their leaders and Lady Rosewater tell me he has quite a lot of friends, and is beloved by many of the adults. So, they wanted to send these to you as thanks.”

Almost automatically, Stride slid an envelop from the stack, holding it so he could turn it over in his hoof. Rosemary’s previous words sparked curiosity in the young Primfeather. He sniffed, and even he could smell a hint of flowers.

Though he couldn’t say which.

“For me,” he murmured. “It does smell nice.”

Rosemary brushed her cheek against his and gave the letter a sniff, her eyes fluttering. “Tiger lilies,” she answered his unasked question.

Humming, he thanked her with a tilting of his head into her touch. His eyes, though, hadn’t left the envelop.

Stride looked up to Collar and Cloudy. “Why? I crossed the river in uniform. That’s—“

“Against the treaty, unless there is dire need,” Cloudy finished in his stead. “Stride … you saved that foal’s life.”

“And I can tell you right now, Firelight Spark would laugh anypony trying to claim breach of treaty for that out of his office.” Collar’s smile was … warm. Proud. Stars, was it proud, in his gentle way. “Strides … Strides those are letters to a hero. Open one.”

Something in his head stuck on that word, and wouldn’t let go.

A hero?

Cold water sprayed across his face again. A tiny body hung limp in his hooves.

Ice ate the back of his neck. Stride set the letter atop the pile and pulled away from Rosemary, rising. “I think I need to take a walk,” he murmured, already stepping past Cloudy.

She caught him by a foreleg. “Strides, hold on.” All trace of teasing or scolding had left her eyes. In their place, concern.

With a gentle tug and circling of his hoof, Stride freed himself of her grasp. Just like she’d taught him. “I need to take a walk,” he repeated. “I just need … air.”

A hurried shuffle carried him out of Rosemary’s makeshift prison, out into the halls of Prim Palace. Air. Air was the best cure for everything which ailed a pegasus, whether it be illness or some affliction of the mind.

Like the one gripping Stride like a python does a rabbit.

The young pegasus knew his destination even before his stormy eyes gazed out the windows to see the splendor of the Prim Palace gardens. A small tribute to Dapper’s heritage, a place of calm and healing.

Healing, like what Rosemary and Cloudy had done to help him the other day. After Cloudy had got him to stop shaking in that alley.

With a shaking hoof, Stride pushed the door open and scurried his way toward the orange tree standing tall and proud at the center of the garden, its blooms open and flowering in defiance of the coming winter. Its own last ditch effort to grant the silly ponies below a hint of its zesty citrus fragrance.

It had been in the shade of this tree that Rosemary had sat with him so patiently while he tried to get his mind untangled.

His ears flicked and swiveled to the sound of another pony’s steps thumping against the grass. Stride looked back over his shoulder, his ears flattening when he saw Collar approaching.

The larger stallion bumped shoulders with him. “You okay?” he asked softly.

Stride grimaced. That wasn’t an easy answer. Not in the slightest.

“I suppose that’s as much an answer as I can ask.” Collar’s tail flicked. After a moment’s silence, he spoke again. “They want to meet you, but I’ve asked that they be patient while we let you …” He met Stride’s gaze briefly, then looked to the orange blossoms adorning the tree. “Recover. From the frights you’ve had.”

“I, er.” The pegasus swallowed. “Thank you.” Ducking his head, he added, “Or we could just … pretend it didn’t happen and let the storm blow over.”

Collar smiled and shook his head, laughing. “This isn’t blowing over, Stride. Sorry.”

“Ah. I see.”

Another bump of shoulders. “Don’t act like it’s a sentencing to prison. You did the right thing. The next part is just … going to take a little time for you.”

A long time, hopefully. Long enough for those Roses dwelling in the Garden of Love to find something else to become their focus.

“But,” Collar said, drawing him from those thoughts. “There are a couple things I need to ask you. One’s a bit of a favor. Or, rather, your blessing for something.”

Something about his tone, the way he seemed to try to soften his words as if readying to deliver a blow, made Stride splay his ears. “What sort of blessing?” he asked.

Primline blue eyes met Primfeather stormy gray.

“I’m planning to say something about the bridge at the Primrose Gala. I understand you’re probably not comfortable with me naming you—“ he grimaced ”—not at all comfortable, I should say. But I’d like to say something to give credit, and I wanted to ask before you heard through the grapevine.”

Sure enough, there it was.

Stride bit the inside of his cheek. He could just imagine it, a crowd of Roses listening to Collar’s speech, waiting for some hint to what stallion dared cross the river in Dammeguard armor.

His shoulders tensing, Stride gave his head a negative shake.

Collar ticked an ear. A slight frown played upon his lips. “I’ll keep it vague, Strides. Not a word or hint.”

“I-I do appreciate that.” Stride licked his lips. “And while I understand this won’t, er, blow over, I’d rather not feed it.”

Now, the unicorn chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, were it that simple.” He bumped Stride’s shoulder again. “Pretending it didn’t happen or hiding it and not reacting just makes it seem like I’m hiding something important, Stride. I can’t do that. And …” For a moment, Collar hesitated, flicking a thoughtful glance at Stride.

One could almost imagine gears turning behind that calculating gaze.

“Another favor,” he said, turning and sidestepping so they were face to face. “Hear me out, let me talk to you about another aspect. The diplomatic side of things.”

Blanching, Stride almost recoiled. “Diplomacy with—with Roseate, my lord? After what she did to—“

“No. No. Not Roseate. I’m not going to entertain her on this, and she’s not even important right now.”

“Then … who is?”

Collar laid a hoof on Stride’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “The Garden, Stride. The Garden of Love.”

His blank stare must have given away how high over his head the point sailed.

“The Garden is … unique. It’s both a part of Merrie, yet not. Thanks to a bit of crafty wordplay Rosewine Rosethorn slipped into the deed proposal when she ceded her competing claim to the throne to her twin and her mother granted her the land to the east of Merrie until it reached the Deerkin Forest. More importantly, though, it’s a good chunk of Merrie’s economy.”

“Okay …” Stride tried to draw connecting lines between economics and the bridge. Slowly, it clicked. “And you think announcing what I did at the Gala will help with something between Damme and the Garden?”

Collar gave the slightest shrug. “It might, it might not. But if there’s one thing I have learned since I started lordly duties, it’s that you never say no to the chance to make an ally out of a friendly stranger.” He squeezed Stride’s shoulder again, his smile earnest. “So, what I’m asking is if you’ll help me try to do that, Strides. You don’t have to do anything right now, we can delay big introductions for a time. In the meantime, the city gets the chance to affirm closer ties with their village, and we get a bit of a … softer look in Merrie. A friendlier look.”

It took a long moment for Stride to even begin trying to wrap his head around why they should even want that.

A friendly look with the ponies of Merrie, so soon after Roseate’s attempts against Collar? First and foremost, the nobles would likely scoff and do everything to scuttle the effort at home. Or at least to put pressure on ponies outside their sphere of influence to refuse new trade.

But what about the common ponies?

What about ponies in Merrie who were just like Rosemary? Or Cloudy?

Or any of us? Stride realized.

“For the commoners,” Stride murmured under his breath. “And—and the business ponies who are on the fence, right?”

“Close,” came Collar’s soft reply. “More for the ponies who worry that if the war ends in our favor, we’ll deny them their lifestyle. I don’t—Strides, I don’t want that, you know that, yes?”

He bobbed his head.

“Good. Good lad.” A third squeeze. “Will you allow me this? Will you trust me?”

If he couldn’t trust Collar, who could he?

Drawing in a deep breath, and then nodded.

Collar grinned and took his other shoulder in hoof, and gave him a gentle little shake. “Thank you, Strides. This helps.” He released his embrace and set his hooves upon the ground. “All the little things like that start to add up to big things. You’ll see.”

“I h-hope so.” Stride took a second to swallow the lump which threatened to close off his throat. Finally, he couldn’t bare but ask, “The colt, though. Is—Is he?”

“He’s well, Strides. They told me he’s alive and tired and scared, but well.”

An oppressive weight was removed from his shoulders. At least that, he could take solace in. “Thank the stars …”

Humming an affirmative, Collar moved to stand by his side to face the orange blossom tree, and sat. Still taller by a good half-head. “Yes. I quite agree.” Blue eyes flitted and caught his. “There is … one other thing, Strides.”

Stride breathed a laugh. “Another favor?”

“Mm, not quite.” Something in those eyes glinted in a way almost suspiciously like Rosemary when she had a trick in mind. “What are you doing the night of the Primrose Gala?”

Blinking, Stride furrowed his brows.

Honestly? Nothing. Maybe a drink at Prim Tap and Lager’s, if he could spare the extra bits. Otherwise, a long night at the Bridgewater Bilge with pisspoor Dammerale before he staggered his way home and hoped when he dropped, it would be onto his bed.

So, he told Collar.

That smile told him he should’ve probably made up something about an appointment. “I see. In that case.” A hoof snaked around his shoulders. “I’d like to propose a slight alteration to those plans … incidentally, do you have anything formal in your closet?”