His first, surreal thought, as he cradled Rosemary’s limp form in his magic was, She’s smaller than I thought she’d be.

His next was less thought and more reaction as he called upon the limited medical training he had to cast a spell to check her pulse, slow and steady, as if she’d been sent into a dream, and her breathing was slow… too slow for a mare who’d been panicking moments before.

Whatever she’d taken wasn’t agreeing with her, and all he could hope for was that Glory would be able to counteract whatever it was.

He dropped the shield and pulled in power, fixing into place the destination and expanding the spell to take himself and Rosemary with him.

It was a good thing he hadn’t done much else before preparing to settle in for a watch at the palace gates, waiting to see if this was the night Stride would come calling.

He popped out, leaving a startled looking old Stallion Cottage with his face pressed to his window, and reappeared on the steps of Prim Palace, between two very startled guards and almost on top of a panting Stride.

“Get Poppy,” he snapped. “Get him now.” He waited until Stride was just barely gone from sight before he turned his attention back to Rosemary. “Come on, calm down. Let it go,” he whispered into her ear, hoping she was still aware enough to hear him. “I’m not going to harm you.” If she was conscious, she gave no sign of it. She was either asleep, and a deeper sleep than he would have believed possible with all the jostling, or simply unconscious.

He tried to recall if she’d struck her head on her way down, but the blur of panic and fear as she’d fallen wouldn’t let him recall the moment he’d caught her clearly. Only that barely whispered ‘I’m sorry.’

He could barely bring himself to look up as he heard the voice he’d been afraid of hearing rising in a panicked gasp.

“Cloudy,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I tried to take her gently. She… she did something and collapsed.”

Her eyes were wet and shining as she took a halting step forward, ears flat, hoof raised to reach out and stroke the soft blonde mane spilling against the stairs. A moment later, her expression firmed and she fixed him with a look. “What did she do?”

“I think she was going to attack me, then she took the scent to herself and inhaled it.” Collar related what he’d seen of her collapsing, how he’d caught her, and how she’d fought to open her eyes one last time… and apologize.

Cloudy ruffled her wings. “I know who we have to consult. Keep her safe, Collar. We don’t know who else is out there.” Before he could stop her, she’d pulled out her whistle and blown a quick trill, then a longer shrilling tone. ‘Gather, but no immediate danger.’

He sighed as the distant whistle signal was repeated again and again, spreading to the barracks until a flurry of activity had drawn them in. It made sense. If Rosemary hadn’t been the only infiltrator, whomever else had come over would find him with only a few palace guards on the front steps.

It would be bold, but Roseate had proven she could be more than bold. Reckless, even.

Cloudy hesitated, staring down at the sleeping beauty Collar kept cradled close and safe, her eyes darting from her eyes to her breast and the heart mark there, then to him. Her breathing came more raggedly before she shook her head and darted down the stairs and towards the prison, visible as a dark, low lump in the night.

She’d gone for the pony who could cure Rosemary tonight, if there were any who could on this side of the river. It was the right call, but it was also a call that he wasn’t sure he would have made so soon after making the deal with Glory.

More, the whistle had drawn a cordon of ponies who donned scent-masks and faced out from the palace steps while a sandy-coated pony without one dashed up with his well-used medic bag, followed by Stride himself, hanging back at the cordon, suddenly uncertain, his eyes locked on Rosemary.

“My lord,” Poppy said without preamble, shooing him away with little more introduction before placing his cheek and ear to her breast, eyes closed as he wove spells about her. Slender tendrils touched her here and there at joints and pressure points, soon pulsing with what seemed like her own pulse.

Collar stood and stepped down to meet with Stride.

“My lord, she fought?”

“No.” Collar shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know what she did exactly, but you did well to fetch me immediately. I only hope she didn’t harm herself in the process.”

Stride swallowed. “Would she have fought you?”

Collar thought back to the shaking, scared mare who’d still had the guile to distract him with a false threat. “No. She is not a fighter, Stride. She is a lover.”

Stride glanced around at the ears listening, nodded, and said, “I’ll return to the air, my lord.”

Leaving him with a ring of guards focused on keeping the palace and a vulnerable young mare safe.

“My lord,” Poppy called.

Collar jerked himself out of his fears and trotted back up the few steps to where Rosemary was resting gently on one step. “What is it?”

“She’s sound asleep, but nothing I’ve tried to wake her has worked. She moves away from smelling salts, but she doesn’t wake.”

“Poppy, she’s a Rosethorn. Of course she would move away from smelling salts.” Collar settled to the step again, looking down at this strange mare who wouldn’t fight, but would attempt to abduct one of his oldest friends. “Rosemary?”

“She’s asleep, my lord, not faking it,” Poppy said with a sigh, packing his things back into his bag. “She has no concussion, nor is she drugged in any way that I know. She does show the signs of a magical sleep that we’ve seen the Rosethorns employ from time to time.”

“Can you wake her?”

“No, my lord. I’ve not the skill to break through their spellwork without harming her.” Poppy rose and settled a telekinetic bed underneath her, raising the slumbering mare with a full support. “We should take her to the prison and get her into a bed. She’ll need to sleep it off.”

Collar hesitated, then shook his head. “No.” He cocked his head, then nodded. “Take her to the Clothier’s suite and get her settled in, please.”

Poppy stared at him, blinking, then nodded. “As you say, my lord.”

He left, leaving Collar standing there on the steps, watching the prison and wondering just how Glory was going to trick the guards into believing she was still in her cell… or if she would even try. Maybe it would be best to show some favor…

Except no. Glory didn’t want her mother to know she might be wavering away from the Rosethorn line to his. Or to Poppy’s. It would at once paint a target on her lovers in Merrie and a bigger one on Poppy. He wasn’t exactly their best guard, and he couldn’t bring himself to go the extra step of forcefulness to arrest somepony.

But he’d volunteered for guard duty all the same.

Now he knew why, and getting to know Glory, he couldn’t blame either of them.

Collar closed his eyes and listened to the rustle and muttering around him, pushing away the ache still in his horn from a double-teleport, effectively a triple, in only the span of a minute.

He opened his eyes again as he heard a hail and response from Cloudy as she trotted up to the cordon and then passed through it and into the palace without more than a glance at him and an arched brow.

She had Glory, then.

“Double guard on the prison,” Collar called out. “And double on the palace for tonight. The rest of you, bolster the patrols for another hour. Those on duty for tonight, return to your duties afterwards. Those of you not, return to your beds and report to Captain Pink for assignments tomorrow morning.”

He found the suite abuzz with activity when he entered, Cloudy resting on the bed beside her lover, lips in a firm line as she stroked the mare’s blonde mane slowly, the shaking of her hoof the only outward sign of her nerves.

On the other side of the bed, Glory used a spell to quickly dry out some flower petals she’d snatched from someplace and raided Poppy’s medical bag for a bottle of spirits that she eyed suspiciously before replacing it and drawing out another.

“What do you need, Glory?” Collar asked quietly.

“Silence,” Glory snapped, drawing out more items from the bag, then up at him again. “Silence, my lord. On the room.”

The room wasn’t one of those enhanced with gemstone and gold to hold the spell more easily. He sighed, nodded, and pushed magic through his horn, wincing as the silver barrier pressed against the walls, then settled in as the wood, stone, and cloth drank up the magic and obeyed his will to remain silent.

“I need spirits, but not the kind used to disinfect. The stronger, the better.” Glory inspected the bottle of smelling salts, pursing her lips, then replaced it. “And some citrus.”

Collar shared a look with Cloudy, and she nodded, her jaw tight.

“Poppy, do as she asks.”

When he was gone, Cloudy murmured, “Thank you, Collar.” Her hoof never stopped moving slowly over Rosemary’s mane, and her eyes only darted to him and back to her sleeping visage occasionally. It was as if she were trying to decide whether to tell him something or not.

“Cloudy,” Glory murmured as she inspected the petals, “tell him. You’ve been away from Merrie for two years. Don’t let that absence take away your understanding of propriety.”

“He knows already,” Cloudy said. “I love her. I never stopped loving her.”

“Good.” Glory looked up briefly, her eyes locked on Collar’s. “The question is, now that she’s here, and you can see that love, my lord, what will you do?”

“This is hardly the time,” Cloudy growled.

“This is exactly the time,” Glory shot back. “I care for her, Cloudy, and I like you. The earlier you deal with how you’re going to handle the clash between Tussen Twee and Principes, the better. Don’t let her get hurt. She’s a prisoner now. She has no power to determine her course.”

“I disagree,” Collar said gently. “She has a great deal of power on how to determine her course. If she helps us to capture Rosewater—”

Glory barked a laugh.

“What?”

“My lord, you have a lot to learn about Rosemary and Rosewater.” Glory shook her head slowly and glanced at Cloudy. “As do you.”

“I’m already planning to tell her myself that Rosemary is under arrest.”

“May I suggest you wait for her to wake?” Glory asked, inspecting the small bowl of petals now looking as dried as if they’d spent a winter drying. “This won’t be the best. I’d much rather have naturally dried petals, but needs must.”

“What are you making?” Collar asked, aware suddenly that he was condoning scent magic. He would have to destroy the mess before Lace found out. But he was also certain this was the right path to take.

“A general counter to sleeping scents. It won’t be as good as a custom-made counter, but it should wake her up enough to answer questions.” Glory eyed him briefly, then returned to her perusal of Poppy’s bag. “He used to keep a tincture of rosehips in here…”

Collar’s brows rose almost to his forelock. “Just how close are you?”

“My lord, were it not for this damnable war, I’d be courting him openly and likely carrying his foal by now.” Glory sniffed and tossed her mane. “Honestly. What was that stallion thinking?”

“What was he thinking?” Collar growled, rolling his eyes and checking out the door to see where Poppy was. Out of sight, but he could hear shouts and calls that would be waking his parents and the rest of the castle staff before long. “Hurry up.”

As if his imprecation were a summoning, he caught sight of his mother’s tall figure across the palace, the straight lines of the construction letting him see her before she could see him as she talked to one of the guards.

He ducked back just in time to avoid her sight and glanced at Glory. “I apologize.”

Glory rolled her eyes. “It was my choice to listen to Cloudy’s request. I’m more worried about the fallout for you. After all, all she can do to me is extend my sentence.”

A moment later, Poppy slipped back inside with a bottle of Lace’s private stock of liquor, and he gave Collar a meaningful look as he displayed it, trusting he would know from whence and from whom it’d come from.

If he’d been hoping that his mother wouldn’t learn of his exploits until morning, they ended there. It did give him hope that she would be gentle in her reproof. All he could do was wait and keep Glory as secret from the rest of the palace as possible.

In the meantime, he rose and made his way around the bed to settle in beside Cloudy, resting against her while she both leaned against him and moved her hoof to settle in against Rosemary’s back while Glory and Poppy worked together to make scent magic.

If Glory was going to betray his trust…

“I trust her,” Cloudy whispered against his cheek.

Collar relaxed minutely. I trust you, Cloudy.

A cool compress over her eyes was the first sensation to filter up past the numbing fear of a dreamless dark. Light filtered in, red and fuzzy, and a hoof stroked her barrel slowly, gentle as a whisper. A familiar feminine scent wafted past her nose as she took a deeper breath, somepony she loved.

A tickle of an inkling percolated up from the darkness, then popped as awareness began to fill her, starting most immediately with the pain behind her eyes and the throbbing at her temples. She was under unscented sheets, freshly laundered with a hint of the washerpony left behind, and a very faint smell of roses wafting up past her nose as she shifted and a hint of citrus.

“Mother?” she tried to ask, and choked on it as phlegm caught in her throat.

The hoof left her barrel immediately, and hooves skittered across carpet, then stone before a door opened and slammed shut.

The familiar scent left with the skittering hooves. Memories started to bubble up, of the alleyway, the silver bubble, panic, and her decision.

She struggled with the sheets, kicking and thrashing with her uppermost hind leg until she was able to get some purchase, and threw them off just as the rag slid from her eyes to show the Prim quill and scroll hanging over a door, and a stallion sitting by it jerking himself awake. He wasn’t a very impressive specimen, but his cutie mark, a rolled bandage opposite a quill marked him as a pony versed in medical arts.

The sight of the pony beside him, Glory, stilled her worry for a second. She licked her lips as both ponies rose from where they’d been curled up together.

A glance at the window and its opulent window treatment told her it was still late at night, and unless she’d slept a whole day--and there hadn’t been enough Ivory Dreams to do that.

She blinked as Glory yawned and blinked sleepily at her, then kissed the medic lightly on the cheek. That was a level of familiarity there that belied the obvious Prim heritage he had.

If Glory was there, she could have brewed something to wake her up… if she had permission.

Rosemary licked her lips and glanced at the window again, then at the door—one of three doors in the room. She sniffed the air delicately, drawing on her heritage, and identified one of the rooms as a bathroom. The other smelled like… books. Lots of books.

She remembered Collar telling her she was under arrest, so she had to assume that held true even if she wasn’t in prison.

“Lay down, Rosemary,” Glory said through a yawn as she pushed herself up. “You’re going to have a hangover come morning, so take it easy.”

“I’m under arrest.”

“Sadly, yes. Though it doesn’t look like we’re going to be prison buddies.”

The medic gave her an exasperated look and pushed himself up. “I’m Prim Poppy, Corps Medic of the Dammeguard. You are, in fact, under arrest, but I will let Lord Collar explain the circumstances.”

The circumstances appeared to include a suite that was more fancifully appointed than her own room in Rosewater’s Rosefire Estate. Rosemary pushed herself up, her hooves sinking into the soft bed as the world spun around her.

“No, no. Please, Rosemary. You may not be hurt, but you went through quite an ordeal.” The pony’s horn lit with a blue-green magic that held her gently at bay. “Er… the pony who was on watch went to get Lord Collar. He should be along—”

Rosemary sank back down, her vision swimming. “Wh-what?”

“Improvised Lucid Lemon,” Glory said with a thin smile and a wink. “Though that’s a secret. You’re really just especially hardy against Ivory Dreams.”

“But—”

Glory winked more deliberately, and she got it, then. She’d done it with Collar’s approval, but not while Collar had been there, and it was a secret to everypony but the ones in the room.

“Poppy, is she awake yet?”

“She is, my lord,” Poppy called back, holding a hoof up to his lips as he glanced at Rosemary. “She is a bit dizzy, as expected from the smelling salts.”

Rosemary’s brows rose as she stared at him, then at Glory, and took in the scents in the room again, her rosethorn marks glowing bright enough to cast light on her eyes. Unicorn stallion.

Pegasus mare.

Her heart skipped a beat as the door opened. She would know and remember that scent anywhere she found it. Cloudy Rosewing.

After two years, she was just on the other side of the doorway, standing there with her wings halfway arched as if she wanted to take off, either to flee or to rush toward her.

Rosemary didn’t give her that chance.

She was off the bed before any of her jailors could move to stop her, heading for the door, but Cloudy’s panicked look stopped her in her tracks, barely halfway there. “Cloudy?” She whispered, swaying as her blood rush caught up to her.

Silver light surrounded her, lifting her back to the bed as Collar advanced on her and glanced behind him to Cloudy, still trembling on the edge of flight.

“Lieutenant, please inform my mother that the prisoner has woken up,” he said, his voice that same gentle, firm tone he’d used on her.

Orders. Rosemary swallowed and watched as Cloudy struggled with herself, then nodded and offered a shaky salute, her tail flicking and her ears flat before she turned, halted, and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry,’ before she dashed off.

Collar closed the door behind himself and sealed the room against sound. “Lady Rosemary.”

Glory stood up and interposed herself between Collar and Rosemary. “My lord. You accepted my assistance to wake her. Please accept my assistance in treating with her at least this first time. She’s scared. She’s in shock.”

“It’s alright, Glory,” Rosemary murmured, pressing a hoof to her swimming head. More than simply dizziness. Cloudy was so close. She could smell the lingering fragrance of her shampoo in the air. That had always been her favorite. “I just need—”

I need Cloudy.

Glory was on the bed when the first sobs hit her, cheek pressed against her neck, gentle coos and whispers filling her ears as a close and warm body settled in, reminding her she wasn’t alone, she had ponies who loved her close by.

I need mother.

She gasped and clenched her teeth against the ache in her heart. Rosewater needed her and she’d failed her. Captured. Arrested even after trying to do things her way and not Roseate’s way.

“I hate to break in,” Collar said, his voice almost timid as he sat and leaned against the bed, looking away. “But I need to have you write something for me to your cousin. Before the sun rises.”

“Not now,” Glory growled. “That can wait.”

Cloudy hesitated at the door to Lace’s study, the bleary-eyed guard on the side waving her in and swaying in place.

She had no excuse not to follow orders. She wanted to flee, to think, to… make her abandonment of Rosemary all the more obvious. She could have found the mare that day, talked to her, told her something. Instead… she’d fled Roseate’s goons before they could arrest her for revealing her secret mission.

There was no other way they could have been there. They’d known she tried to alert Rosemary that she was going to flee.

Cloudy pulled herself back and pushed open the door to find Lace seated at her desk, a glass of dark liquor rotating slowly as she stared into it, another glass settled in front of one of the chairs.

“Sit.” Lace waved her glass at the chair. “Please. I can’t imagine how much tonight has hurt you.”

“My lady?”

“Lace, tonight, my dear.”

She sat, uncertainty numbing her emotions as she cradled the glass of dark whiskey and sniffed it. Undercurrents of nutty flavor swirled up to her, and she took a sip. Heat coursed down her throat and began filling her belly.

“Rosemary was always going to be captured,” Lace said gently. “She was always going to be assigned something that would force her to break our laws. Roseate does not play gently.”

“I know.” It didn’t help the ache in her heart. She raised the glass for another sip, hesitated, then set the glass back on the desk. “What’s going to happen to her?”

“I imagine my son will ask me to leave her in the Clothier’s suite,” Lace said with a slight smile. “And I imagine he will also ask that you be given visitation rights.”

Cloudy sat there, staring into the gently rocking liquid on the desk. “Will you approve his requests?”

“If he asks, I will.” Lace took a sip of her whiskey and set it down. “You, on the other hoof…”

“Me?”

“You. You’re in love with her, Cloudy, but even I can tell you’re still hung up over the way you left her.” Lace’s ears ticked back briefly, and her voice softened. “Will you leave my son for her?”

“No!” Cloudy was glad she’d set the glass down, the way her legs shook. “How can you ask that?”

“I ask because I must ask, Cloudy. I must ask, because I must know to plan for the future.” Lace’s mask dropped at last as she settled more heavily in her chair, the ache of being a ruler visible in her eyes as she met Cloudy’s. “You have put me in quite the situation. You love them both, and you have made your intentions quite clear where Collar is concerned.”

“My…” I want to marry Rosemary.

As if she’d heard the thought, Lace inclined her head. “Thus, you’ve left me in quite the pickle. While polyamorous marriages are legal in Damme, thanks to the familial exclusion section of the Treaty, such a union for the heir would need popular support to retain any power among the nobility.”

“Wait. Wait. I thought Frosty’s Law prevented that from happening.” Cloudy shook her head, ears flicking. “I’ve read the law so many times, my lady. I have to—” Her voice choked off.

“Choose?” Lace shook her head slowly. “You’ve read Damme law. Treaty law allows for families to migrate from Merrie to Damme and vice-versa. Nowhere in the law does it say where the family has to start.”

“That’s a very loose interpretation of the law,” Cloudy growled. “You know that’s going to be challenged, don’t you?”

“It may be,” Lace agreed with a thin smile. “But I am willing to take that chance if Collar is.”

“Why?”

“Because I have only ever wanted happiness for him. It was his misfortune to be born into a family that requires duty to maintain the greatest amount of happiness for our ponies.” Lace sipped at her glass again and grimaced, then set it down again. “It would be easier for him if he’d been born a common pony.”

“Easier.”

“Easier.” Lace smiled thinly and shook her head. “But that’s not what’s in store for him. His path is… I can’t plan for all of what may come, but I know things, Cloudy, and I’ve done what I can to ensure that there are openings and options for the future.”

“Such as?” Cloudy stared at the glass in front of her.

“Cloudy, I will not spell it out for you. You already know what option is open to you.” Lace clucked her tongue and downed her glass. “It’s likewise up to you to follow through with it.”

And teach Collar more about the Principes. Cloudy swallowed. “He barely knows her.”

Lace chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “Just like he barely knew a plucky, scared mare both defiant and terrified of what crossing the bridge meant for her future.”

Cloudy stared at her for a long moment, then chuckled and downed the last of her whiskey. “They say the second mate is the hardest to accept.”

Lace’s eyes glittered. “They say that, hm?”

Cloudy furrowed her brow and stared at Lace for a long moment, then shook her head and set the glass down. “My lady, Rosemary is awake. That’s what I was supposed to come tell you.”

“I’ll be along shortly. Please see to her comfort, Cloudy.”

Author's Notes:

This chapter was nearly 9,000 words long. For the sake of those that don't like longer chapters, I split this one in two, and am posting both parts at the same time.

Updates have also moved to Saturdays. It's less hectic for me to remember to do it then (and I have a 3 chapter backlog)