Rosewater rubbed at her forehead, squinting through one eye at the text swimming minutely in front of her. Tincture of rimeberry and plenty of water was helping her get over the migraine, but it was still there, and she had too much to do to sit still for one day, and especially not after her nightmares last night, now faded to little more than scraps.

Rosemary dragged off in chains, Roseate laughing and tearing up accord after accord, throwing them all in her face or the river, or both. Laughing at the Royal Guard as they stood by, helplessly tied hoof and tail by the precious Treaty Celestia made them enforce while the good ponies of Merrie and Damme suffered under tyranny.

And so she was in the Treaty Office in Merrie, a squat building that had once been a bridge garrison for a much smaller bridge that had fallen into disrepair and replaced with the broad, sturdy span of the Primrose.

Scrolls and tomes surrounded her in the small law library the office maintained, dusty tomes that hardly anypony looked at anymore because it was common knowledge what the treaty allowed and did not.

That was the common thinking, anyway.

Roseate had her own copy of the seven tomes of the treaty and all the amendments and addendums that had been added over the centuries, and had surely pored over them more thoroughly and more often than Rosewater herself had.

For her, there were only two amendments to the treaty that truly concerned her, and they, she could remember letter-perfect.

The amendment governing the succession of both cities’ leadership had been amended into the treaty in 260 AB, when Rosethorn the Mad exiled and banished every single one of his heirs because they refused to back a coup against Celestia herself.

When he started naming and banishing other successors, Celestia stepped in and undid the damage, reinstated his firstborn, and set down into the treaty that the succession for both cities was by order of birth and that a ruler could not exile their own heir excepting gross treason—proven in a court with Celestia as the judge.

Later amended again when a civil war erupted in Merrie following the death of Frosty Rosethorn the Second, also known as The Childless. Her sisters, both younger, had fought bitterly over the throne, and divided the city so much that it threatened to spill over into Damme, under the rule of a stallion who refused to take advantage of the fighting and end the war because… who knew. The reasons were lost to time, and the Damme histories that made their way across into Merrie curiously left that part of their history out.

So the stipulation was added, after a tense negotiation, that the heir who rose to power needed to have their own heir at the time power changed hands.

That last six words had been bitterly argued over more than once, but a further amendment after a second, much shorter civil war erupted, laid it out cleanly.

And it wasn’t as if anypony was going to tell Celestia that it wasn’t going to fly.

Merrie historians had long speculated that if a third civil war erupted, Celestia would call the experiment off as a failure and simply annex both city-states and deal with the consequences of a possible rebellion later.

That ensured that, as long as Rosewater didn’t cross the line of provable gross treason, Roseate had to deal with her. Rosewater didn’t want to step too far out of line and face that trial. She didn’t know that Princess Celestia would find in her favor, or even what the consequences would be.

Nopony in the almost two hundred and forty-odd years since had wanted to test it. Or her.

The second was more recent and more plainly laid out. Families were exempt from the war, excepting certain circumstances. Volunteering for duty was one of the exempting circumstances. Sometimes, however, Roseate found ways to ‘volunteer’ some family members with useful skills using simple scare tactics. Rarely, but she did it.

Also appended to the same amendment was a stipulation that children and offspring before their second majority, when the treaty officially recognized a pony as being fully adult and fully able to participate in life’s trials—at twenty-one for Merrie, and eighteen for Damme—were also immune from exile.

Rosemary, as Rosewater’s charge and legally recognized by the duel she’d fought with her mother, fell under that canopy. She had another card, but playing it would destroy assumptions, lay bare certain other of her plans, and give Roseate a further reason to find ways to corrupt Rosemary away.

Not even Rosemary knew. Only she and Carnation knew. And a certain few in the Treaty Office.

Those were the big two. But there were dozens of amendments, all spanning at least a few pages of a tome, and the treaty itself. And all started with what had meant to be a small pitched battle to seek restitution for prior deaths and escalated… and escalated further until the entire military might and a good deal of the civilian citizenry were up in arms and either fighting or tending the wounded and dying.

The Battle of the Red River. The last day of bloodshed between the two cities.

Three hundred years ago, in 202 AB, the bitter blood feud between two cities had been slammed to a stop with Celestia’s arrival with a contingent of Royal Guard cast in the raiment of the flaming sun, the garb of a warrior princess set to either conquer… or entreat.

In the middle of the bloodiest battle in a century and a half of on-and-off warfare, she had thrown down the forces of both cities with a single shout, a single enspelled word.

“Stop.”

The air trembled and the ground quaked at her word, and the sun stopped its motion briefly before resuming its placid journey across the noonday sky.

“I have put up with your conflict for too long. Too many lives have been lost, but until today the lives being lost in other parts of Equestria That Was were far greater, and your petty squabble has been a nuisance. That ends. Now.”

Both of the leaders at the time, Fiery Rosewing in Merrie, and Primfeather Lance were exiled to opposite ends of the land, to live their lives in simplicity and labor, never again to command armies or oversee anything like the bloodbath that had taken place that day.

Six hundred dead. Paltry compared to the mass chaos that had gripped the once-great nation of Equestria Eternal, but in the centuries that followed, it would be remembered as the Red River Day. Honored at the height of the Summer Sun celebration, both cities lamented the loss of so many.

In this day and age, the Red River Day had changed into a celebration of ancestors, and paper boats dyed red were floated down the river by both sides, each one with the names of the dearly departed written on them.

It was a day when the cities populace put aside the cold war that had descended in the wake of the treaty and remembered their ancestors together.

Mostly together.

The nobility still resisted. On both sides.

And there were yet more things she needed to look at.

The report of Glory’s injury and her refusal to press for restitution had put Roseate in a foul mood, but… Rosewater didn’t know for certain there was anything actually in the treaty about injury.

Killing was right out. Anypony found guilty of murder was exiled. They could appeal to Celestia, but there were very few that tried.

Accidental killings were more gray territory. During a raid, self-defense was expected and encouraged, but there had been very few test cases that pushed that boundary. The harsh treatment a murderer got from Equestrian law was… often more than enough to push that out the window.

Under the Lace Reformations, the Dammeguard had undergone a transformation from a mixed offensive-defensive force, with their own raiders and tactics for fighting the Rose’s tendency to use scent magic, to a purely defensive force, trained in injury avoidance and ‘gentle’ takedowns as well as mental acuity training to resist the effects of the most common scents and tactics.

Injuries had always had to be reported to the Treaty Office during the ongoing conflict for review and examination. Presumably a growing trend of abuse would bring further restrictions.

Bruising was common, and a broken bone wasn’t uncommon, but every broken bone was met with a full review, a dressing down if necessary, and if warranted, further disciplinary action.

That much, Rosewater knew from some of the contacts she’d cultivated through her alter-egos over the past two years.

It was less about getting in trouble with the treaty and more about making sure that none of them even got a glance at getting in trouble with the treaty.

Lace had even spoken of it at length at the galas Rosewater was required to attend every quarter, yet another stipulation of the treaty, this one added only a hundred years ago after the final unification of all of the former nation of Equestria Eterna into… simply, Equestria.

Save their small knot of inconvenience in the northwest.

Yet still, Celestia hadn’t forced the treaty to conclusion, and seemed to want the cities to reconcile on their own. Her reasoning, as an immortal with the patience of stone, was beyond Rosewater’s understanding, but some days she wished the mare would just end the conflict and let her and her small, broken family live in peace.

Instead…

Rosewater dragged herself back. The treaty was an annoyance to all. To her because she wanted it concluded, and she was coming to not very much care how.

Just not Roseate’s way.

“Focus, idiot mare,” Rosewater murmured, rubbing her head as it began to pound more from the frustration. Every day, she wanted Celestia to end it and just take over. Or Lace to get off her ass and stop pretending that Roseate could be reasoned with or worn down and attack.

Damn the Lace Reformation.

“Peace has to start somewhere,” she’d said. To Rosewater, even. “I hope you will see that someday. Your grandmother and I had such high hopes.”

Rosewater had barely known Roseline before the mare had passed away. When she was eight, and with failing health for three years before that. With Roseate taking more and more power every day.

“Her high hopes ended when she died,” Rosewater had shot back, stalking off to find a drink and drown the fact that she had to be there, had to act cordial to her mother. “And Roseate salted the earth where she lay.”

The mother that had, not even two months before, exiled the only other mother figure she’d known, the only one who’d treated her like a daughter, loved her as a mother should when she’d needed it.

“Focus!” Rosewater hissed, trying to drag her mind back out of the past despite the migraine seeming to want to make her suffer even more.

“Is anything wrong, my lady?” the librarian attendant, a young pegasus named Inkfeather, asked, poking her head in the door. “Any references you need looked up?”

“No… no.” Rosewater flicked an ear dismissively. “Thank you, Ms. Inkfeather. I’m just dealing with a headache both literal and figurative.”

“If you’re certain, my lady.”

Rosewater hesitated, thinking, and pursed her lips. “No… I mean… yes. I’m certain. Thank you. I’m… I only wish your mistress would stop letting us play charades and toy soldiers and end it.”

“She has her reasons.”

It was the only answer she ever got. She has her reasons. “I hope she explains them someday.”

“Rarely. But things work out.”

Rosewater raised a brow, regretted it immediately, and settled for a flat stare at the mare with the black tips on her steel-gray feathers. “Pardon me for saying, then, that this is an awful lot of working out.”

Inkfeather smiled, bobbed her head, and left, closing the door to the small library behind her.

Rosewater sighed, made a note on her scroll to apologize to the mare on the way out, and pulled down a different tome.

She had more reading to do yet.

Rosemary sat slumped at a table in the Rosy Glow tavern, staring at the grape juice in the wine glass in front of her, half-wishing it were actually wine, and grateful it wasn’t. Half of Rosejoy’s tendencies came from her drinking away her mistakes. It was one of the ways a pony could walk down the path of a hedonist and get easily lost, twisted about by the winds and promises of those holding the strings to their next fix.

Her ‘drinking companion’ Rosy Glass, the current tavern owner, sat across from her nursing a light lunch of celery and lentil stew with enough exotic spices to make Rosemary’s nose tingle even after it’d started to cool down.

The worst part of having Rosewater also be a raider was that she couldn’t very well complain about their nightly activities unless she wanted to upset Roseate.

Which she did, just not that way.

Fortunately, Glass knew where she’d gone thanks to rumors and gossip, and that she’d ‘failed’ in her mission. Whatever her mission had been.

‘Grab somepony’ was hardly a mission, and not one she wanted to do. She wasn’t Rosewater with her hidden hidey-hole to store prisoners of war so secretive that not even Rosemary had an inkling of where it was. She’d need such a place if she didn’t want her captured ponies to end up in Roseate’s hooves. Or ask Rosewater to use hers.

“You’re grumbling an awful lot,” Glass said, brow raised, and blew on the remains of her stew—more to blow the smell in Rosemary’s face than cool it down.

“Yeah, well…” Rosemary swirled the grape juice around in her wine glass and downed it. “Here I am, drinking grape juice, pining after my lost love… who was apparently shadowing me all night last night without my deaf and blind butt being aware of it.”

She had, at least, gotten some details out of Rosewater after the mare woke up with the worst migraine this side of the Merrie and before she’d doggedly dosed herself to keep it at bay and slogged off to ‘work.’ Not a lot. Merely that she was on a mission of her own and had happened to catch Cloudy shadowing her. Or did she actually say that? Rosewater twisted words like ribbons until she barely said anything plainly when she was being secretive.

It was easy to tell when she was being secretive, and she had been. Tightrope was her way of saying ‘I can’t tell you outright.’. It was less easy to tell which way the words were meant to fall.

“Well.” Glass reached over and poked her lightly on the forehead. “Could be worse. She could have dropped in and captured you. Then where would I be? Where would Rosewater be? Speaking of… you tell that mare to get her butt in here, alright? You do that, and she actually sits her ass down and has a talk with me, and next meal’s on the house.”

“You’ve asked me that every time I visit, and she’s come by precisely zero times,” Rosemary grunted. “She’s terrified of what her mother will do to your business.”

“She’s an idiot,” Glass declared, then lifted up and drained the last of her stew. “I can take care of myself, and I have some leverage over her ‘unofficial’ muscle.” The mare’s green eyes flashed as she fixed Rosemary with a glare. “If you don’t haul her butt down here inside a week, I’ll do it, and charge ya double.”

“I know you miss her, Glass, but don’t,” Rosemary said with a sigh.

“Of course I rutting miss her. All of her friends miss her.” The brash tone faded, and Glass ran her hooves over her white mane. “Stars, Rosemary, I get it. She… got hurt. But that’s not a reason to just cut all ties with everyone to protect them.”

“I know. Believe me. I’ve had that argument with her so much she just completely blanks until I’m done talking at her.”

“You’re both kind of in a rut, I think,” Glass muttered. “Try something new. Trick her. Stars know she does it often enough. Turn the tables.”

“Tried it.”

“Try it again, little lovebird.”

Rosemary sank into her seat and rubbed at her cheeks slowly, ears perking up when the door opened again, just in time to avoid getting completely blindsided by Rosie Night as she rushed in, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and took the seat bench next to Glass.

“Good afternoon to you, too, Mrs. Night,” Glass grunted as she scooted over, rolling her eyes in a ‘you younger ponies’ way.

“Hey, Glass, so…” Rosie leaned forward, and in a whisper, asked, “Did you hear what happened last night in Damme?”

Freezing panic surged through her stomach, wondering if she’d been made after all, and her name was now on a list somewhere. “N-no, I didn’t.”

“Well,” Rosie leaned even closer. “I heard that Rosewater tried to abduct Cloudy right out of the barracks, but Lord Collar stopped her.”

“What?!” Rosemary blurted, shooting up straight on her bench. Several of the things Rosewater had said snapped into focus in her mind, given context and meaning. “What… she never told me!”

Glass gave her a look that said ‘seriously, Rosemary?’

“Alright, alright, so she can’t really talk about her missions. But stars above, she’s practically…” She trailed off, a shiver trailing up her spine at what she’d almost said in public. Almost thought outside the privacy of her own warded room. “My teacher,” she finished lamely.

“Well, it’s just what I heard, lovely,” Rosie night said gently. “I was delivering some unspecial candies to my clients in Damme when one of them gave me the little tidbit that was apparently on every guards’ lips this morning.”

The whistles. That had been Rosewater making a move, using whatever stupid thing Roseate had planned for the same night to make the rest of the patrols light and had apparently done enough to give her a chance to make a move.

But for whom? Not for Roseate.

“Anything else they were saying?” Rosemary asked idly, forcing herself back to the conversation and smiling at her friend and often-lover.

“Well…” Rosie grimaced and glanced between her and Glass. “I know how close you were with Cloudy, Rosemary, and I know how much you loved her. But they did say that Cloudy was Lord Collar’s mate.”

“Wh-what?” Rosemary asked, her ears quivering, numb shock in her mind replacing all thoughts of whatever plans Rosewater was playing. “I… had no idea.” Is she a Tussen Twee follower now? Thoughts of Cloudy’s life here, with her, with their shared lovers, the fun they had, the… Why did you take me to your parents? It was the first step in expanding a family.

“Dear, you look like you’ve swallowed something awful.” Rosie reached across the table to touch her shoulder. “Should I not have brought it up?”

“No, no… it’s… it’s good to know.” Rosewater hadn’t said… Or did she? “E-excuse me. I need to go talk to Rosewater.” She started to get up, hesitated, and sank back down. What would I even ask?

“Darling, are you sure you’re alright?” Rosie Night asked ahead of Glass. “You look like you need a break.”

“Yeah,” Glass added. “You need to get out of that estate for a night. You’ve been cloistered in there night after night for a week.”

“Perfect idea,” Rosie said, grinning. “You know, Velvet, Trestle, and I have missed you dearly, sweetie.”

“They’re back?” Rosemary asked, blinking.

“Last week. Stars above, they wouldn’t let me out of a hug for a whole day, and I swear I’ve never had sex like that before.” Rosie chuckled and shivered, rolling her shoulders. “Sometimes I wish I’d gone with them, but the shop… well… they came back alright.”

It was a distraction. A good one, and one she needed, but it was still just a distraction. Rosemary took a breath and pushed her cousin from her mind for the time being. “Yeah? How’s Vel’s pregnancy coming along?”

“Oh, much, much better. She practically kissed the dock.”

“Pregnant sea-sickness?”

“Oh, stars yes. Poor Trestle held her levitated above their bed for long stretches just to get her a little sleep now and then.” Rosie laughed and continued on, detailing the exploits of her husband and wife while Rosemary settled in, losing herself in the happy reunion story. She really was happy for them… but still in the back of her mind was the mare she’d started making plans to bond with.

By the end of the tale of a trip to her spouses’ native Canterlot, Rosemary had an invitation to dinner and perhaps more to help her soothe away the ache, to help her lose herself in bliss. Just for one night.

“I’d love to have dinner,” Rosemary said gently. “But I’m not sure about spending the night.” I need to talk to Rosewater first.

“Well, give it a couple days, love,” Rosie said gently. “I understand you’re still shaken. We’re planning a good night ourselves this weekend, if you think you’ll be up for dinner at least with us.”

“Sure.” Rosemary took a breath, closed her eyes. “I’ll be there, and I’ll bring some of my jams. I’m sure Vel and Tres have missed them.”

“Of course, darling,” Rosie said, glancing aside at Glass. “Just don’t push yourself.”

“Really,” Glass said, reaching across and tapping her nose. “And give Rosewater a nip for me.”

“I will.” I need to talk to her anyway.

Rosewater was in the perfumery and had it open, running the counter herself, the blinds opened and a single patron inside that glanced at Rosemary as she came in.

“Cousin,” Rosewater said before Rosemary had even dropped her veil. “I’ll be just a few minutes.”

The stallion at the counter, not somepony Rosemary recognized, eyed her for long moments before he turned back to sniffing his foreleg, and said, “I like it, but… perhaps something not quite so musky?”

“Of course.” Rosewater pushed open the perfumery door and pulled out a few small vials. “If you want to work on your perfumes, Rosemary?” She left the door open.

She nodded and closed the door behind her so she didn’t have to listen to the inane chatter as more than a background chatter and wandered the back room slowly, remembering all the times Rosewater had brought her there to teach her some bit of knowledge; the times she’d come here on her own to watch Rosewater work, to watch Carnation and Rosewater banter back and forth as they laughed and made new and interesting fragrances, each trying to outdo the other.

Rosewater usually won in the end, but Carnation was by far more creative, and pulled out surprising wins from their ‘judge,’ Rosemary.

Those were the happy days, when it felt like they were a whole family together, when laughter filled the walls.

After the duel, Rosewater had spent nearly a month almost exclusively cloistered in this room, eating only when Rosemary dragged her out of her studies of laws and spells, or the special project of enchanting the small office in the back, little more than a closet, to be an impregnable vault.

Rosemary still didn’t know how many bits her cousin had spent fortifying the closet, but in the end, it became a place where Rosewater disappeared to when she needed to be absolutely alone. The wards blocked out everything, and the door itself practically glowed with power that had been poured into the gems and gold and silver inlaying what had once been a simple wooden door.

It was now effectively a slab of steel, the cracks between the slats covered with form-fitted pieces of wood, sanded into a perfectly flat surface, and decorated with the visible sigils of magical power, gemstones at the appropriate points enchanted to give the spells longevity and permanency.

What she hid back there, Rosemary only had an inkling. Some paintings that were too sensitive to be kept in the house, that showed their family dynamic too closely, that Rosewater didn’t want to let go. Carnation, her, and Rosemary.

“That took a bit longer than I thought,” Rosewater said gently as she came in and closed the door behind her. A pink glow flowed along the walls and the sound of the city outside vanished. “I’m sorry, Rosemary. You wanted to talk?”

“It’s safe?”

“As safe as can be,” Rosewater said, glancing pointedly at the gemstone settings in the corners of the room. “I’ll know if someone tries to break through.”

Rosemary twisted around to shove a hoof against Rosewater’s chest. “You saw Cloudy last night. You saw Lord Collar last night.”

“I did.” Rosewater’s eyes fell, and she sighed. “Rumors travel as fast as Rosie does, it seems.”

“When were you going to tell me?” Rosemary hissed. “You have an order to take her in. Were you following it through? Were you going to take her to Roseate? For—”

“No.” Rosewater shook her head vehemently. “I’m never letting Roseate have her.” Rosewater teleported in two pillows from the front portion of the store and sat on one. “If you’ll have a sit, I’ll tell you all about last night.”

“Every detail,” Rosemary warned as she sat, then relented as Rosewater touched a hoof to her neck, stroking down to her shoulder. “I know you said tight-rope. But… how much can you tell me?”

“All of it, if you wish it. Roseate dragged you into her scheming, and I… I wished not to pull you into this. Ever if I could. What I do, what she makes us do, is not a happy business, Rosemary. What I’ve done, the ponies I’ve taken and held against their will…” Rosewater couldn’t meet her eyes as she dragged in a breath and settled in more heavily. “A war. We’re in a war. Not between Merrie and Damme, but between my mother and I.”

“And I’m a pawn?” Rosemary asked, a touch of bitterness in her tone.

“To her? Yes. To me… Rosemary, you’ve always been Rosemary to me. My Rosemary.” Rosewater leaned forward and nuzzled her ear gently. “I’ll tell you everything because it’s time, if you wish, but you not knowing may put you in danger.”

Rosemary opened her mouth and closed it again, then sighed. “And knowing may put me in danger.”

“Yes.” Rosewater gave her a thin-lipped smile. “But you’re a part of the war now. This private war. Roseate decided against my warnings. Against our agreements. You knowing is the best defense you have, ‘Mary. But it’s also your choice if you want to walk this tight-rope with me.”

“Tell me everything,” Rosemary said after taking a breath to collect herself.

Rosewater took a deep breath and started talking.

The report was nothing special, and a day old.

Lure successful. Sweets delivered the gossip. LIttle bird returned to momma bird. Nothing concrete said, usual silence in effect. Silence lasted for two hours, little bird and momma bird returned to nest. Nest’s cracks heard polite dinner conversation, then silence. No further word. Observation of nest continues.

Still uncertain about reason for visit to the Treaty Office. Four hours spent there.

Aside from the lure, it was nothing more than a routine report of Rosewater’s activities, and it said more than the reporter thought it did. Two hours of silence. More at night. That wasn’t normal for her. He’d spent months following the raid whose only effect was to sow discord in Damme watching her movements, reading reports of everything she said, did, and who she talked to.

He had, at best, an incomplete picture of who she really was, and even his delving into the archives and infrequent forays into the less useful gossip monger reports only told him so much. The mare generated rumor like a wet fire did smoke, almost all of it false. There were, however, some few truths hidden in the noise.

Precious few.

What did she ask you? What did you tell her?

He had no doubt she told Rosemary about Cloudy’s love still strong for her.

The most worrying part of what she’d done was the trip to the Treaty Office in Merrie, and he couldn’t ask, couldn’t bribe, couldn’t even listen in without risking the wrath of the Royal Guard. They were both separate from and intrinsically involved in the war.

“Collar?” Cloudy asked from the door, poking her head in and blinking blearily.

“How’re you feeling this morning?” Collar asked, opening the door to his office further and dragging over a pillow for her to sit on. “You were awful…” He grinned.

“Don’t say it,” Cloudy grunted.

“Cloudy yesterday.”

She bit his ear lightly and licked it. “That was a warning.” She settled in on the pillow and nuzzled his neck, then read the report. “They couldn’t pick better names?”

“They use traits. Tell me that Rosewater doesn’t act like a mother hen after that stunt she pulled.” Collar snorted and shook his head. “She’s protective of her little chick.”

Cloudy fell silent as she considered the report and its implications. But, instead of asking about anything in the report, she asked, “Do you think she told Rosemary that I still love her?”

Collar tipped his head and looked at her. “You still love her, too. Why would Rosewater keep that from her?”

“It puts her in danger,” Cloudy muttered. “If she knows I still love her, she might… do something stupid.” Cloudy slid the report back and forth with a hoof and settled in more heavily against Collar’s side.

“She loves Rosemary,” Collar said with a sigh. “She does, and I believed her when she said it. If Rosemary asked, I doubt Rosewater would lie to her.”

“Is she evil, Collar?” Cloudy asked, shifting the report about again, then dropping her hoof to the pillow.

“She does evil things, and has done” Collar replied. “She’s frustratingly obtuse, dangerous, and I’ve no doubt she’d do anything at all for Rosemary’s sake. That makes her more dangerous. She’s also, as far as we’re aware, unpredictable and possibly unstable.”

“That didn’t answer the question.”

“Good and evil aren’t like black and white, Cloudy. Not when it comes to ponies. Aside from Roseate. I’m more convinced than ever that she is evil. But Rosewater? She wants to make me her mate. Does that make her evil?” Collar grimaced and shifted on his seat. Even admitting that to Cloudy was difficult.

“Yes. If she’s going by Rosethorn tradition, she wants a thrall, not a mate,” Cloudy growled. “She won’t have you that way, Collar. I’ve seen what that does to a pony.”

“I know.” Collar shook his head slowly. “I have, too. Dad was almost one, you know. Before mom rescued him ‘by accident’ from the ceremony.” He snorted. “They were having a cross-river affair, I think.”

“Did he tell you what it entails?” Cloudy asked darkly.

“Vaguely,” Collar said, sighing. “When we rescued one of our own from the fate with a bargain last-minute. It’s not a willing marriage. It’s a rape of the mind and body. It’s… not an ordeal I’d wish on anypony.”

Cloudy leaned against him, nuzzling his shoulder. “I won’t let them take you, Collar.”

“I won’t let myself be taken.”

“Is it that time already?”

“It is, Glory,” Cloudy said as she closed the cage door behind her and settled onto one of the cushions. “But…”

Glory looked up from reading a book and cocked her head. “But what? Surely that delicious captain of yours hasn’t heaped more punishment on your head?” She clucked her tongue. “And after all that trouble of forgiving you.”

“I need to know more about Rosewater, and what she’s capable of,” Cloudy said, not meeting the sister’s eyes.

“Mmm. Straight to the heart. I do like that about you, Cloudy.” She winked. “Have you considered joining Poppy and I as a third?”

Cloudy dismissed the jab with a flick of her ear. “I know you two were closer than what our intelligence reports indicated. Or even what you’ve said.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.”

“Answer the question or I leave right now.”

“Fine. Fine. I have to find my entertainment somewhere, Cloudy.” Glory mused, tapping the book against her chin. “We were. Closer than mother would have approved of if she’d found out. She was the only sane one I could go to. But I properly glowered at her at every gala as mother instructed I should do, I shunned her elsewhere, and made sure that I was not seen anywhere near her precious home.”

“That… must have been hard.”

“Not as hard as you might think. Outside her small, happy family she was a bullheaded mare, and only a few ponies seemed to really see the fear that lurked underneath that facade.” Glory burnished her hoof against her coat, smiling. “I’m happy to say that I was one such. Why, I even gave Rosemary presents on her birthday. Secretly of course. It was hard not to dote on the dear.”

The oddity of the wording gave Cloudy pause, and she mulled over the word choice, aware that Glory, more so than most of her kin, loved wordplay and putting hidden meanings in what she said. “You make it sound like she was a niece, rather than a cousin.”

“Mmm.” Glory shrugged. “Perhaps. Rather, it was the age difference, dear. I’m eight years older than she, and in my family that’s practically an eternity. Thanks to mother’s legendary reproductive exploits.”

“Yeah… we all know how much she loves—”

“Loves?” Glory laughed bitterly. “That mare would not know love if it shot her through the heart with an arrow. She lusts, dear Cloudy. For power. For pleasure. But for power most of all.”

“Something we already knew,” Cloudy grunted.

“Ah, yes, well, she’s hardly made a secret of it, has she? Mother dear is very simple on the surface. If it gains her more power, she will reach for it. If she can’t have it, she will break it.” Glory held up a hoof. “Case in point, Carnation. Her own sister. Also, Rosewater.”

“How close were they? Carnation and Rosewater?” Cloudy asked in a soft voice. “How did it break her?”

“Close,” was all Glory said, giving her a wary look. “I do love her still, dear Cloudy, she was the kindest to me when my mother cast me aside because I was neither Rosary nor Rosewater. The least talented.” There was a pain in her eyes that didn’t quite reach her voice. “I’ll not give up the secrets she let slip in moments of weakness. Not to you, not to Collar, and not even to Poppy, so don’t even try to use my love against me.”

“I won’t.” Hidden depths. Cloudy frowned and sat back, staring over Glory’s head while the mare pretended to start reading her book again. There was more in the history of the Rosethorn ruling family than she would have thought possible. “How did it break her?”

Glory raised a brow, but didn’t lower the book. “I already answered you. ‘Tis not mine to tell, Cloudy.”

“If she asked you to—”

“She never asked me to keep it a secret. She doesn’t know I know,” Glory said, breaking in and lowering the book.

Acting on a hunch, Cloudy said, “Rosemary has started raiding.”

Glory flinched. It was small, but it was enough, and as soon as she met Cloudy’s eyes, she knew. “Don’t hurt her. That’s all I ask. Don’t hurt her, Cloudy. For Rosewater’s sake and yours.”

“I love her, Glory.”

“Collar knows?”

“I keep no secrets from him.”

“Then marry them both,” Glory said with a small smile. “Drag him to the Principes, teach him the ways of Rosethorn the Wise. Make him see that love can bloom between more than two.”

I wish I could. “He wouldn’t. He’s… he was raised in the Tussen Twee tradition.”

“And yet… he has half of his blood from the other side of the river.” Glory’s smile settled in deeper. “It would be one way to bring about an end to the war, you know. Reconcile the differences between the Liefdesprincipes Tussen Twee and the Principes van Vrije Liefde in one family, born of the ruling families of both cities.”

“I wish that were possible.”

Glory raised a brow and settled in again, sighing and raising her book. “You’re not even going to try.”

“Like I’d be given the opportunity,” Cloudy said with a snort. “Rosewater will never let her be taken.”

“You make it sound like she has a choice in the matter,” Glory murmured, turning a page and starting to read, then stopping and looking up. “Mother’s next assignment will close off whatever loophole it was that allowed my sister to call in all those whistles and let Rosemary escape cleanly.”

“Why?”

Glory sighed and lowered the book. “By the stars, mare, I’ve laid out all the pieces of the puzzle for you. Don’t make me finish it, too.”

“I know why, damn you, I want to know why Rosewater would go along with it!”

“Oh… she does have a brain amidst all that fury.” Glory rocked her head side-to-side. “No doubt for some ‘agreement’ that Roseate will break five minutes after making it.” She raised a hoof, cup up. “But…”

“But what choice does she have?”

“Mmm. My mother does so love the ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ clause.” Glory raised her chin. “The only unknown factor is you lot. What will you do? Will you break my sister, or will you… not?”

Cloudy sat back, wings twitching. She wasn’t even sure what each option entailed or how dangerous it would make things for them. She didn’t know how dangerous a broken Rosewater was, but she did have an inkling of how dangerous an unbroken one was.

“All for one mare.” All for Rosemary.

Author's Notes:

This one is almost a complete rewrite of the original I had. Out a little earlier than scheduled because why not?