One horrible, terrible thought kept occurring to Honeycutt since she was brought from the Lagoon to the Peak by the Codebreaker, Ashteroth. When Osmanthus had needed her most, she had failed him. Not only had she failed Osmanthus, but she had failed their new daughter Cerinthe, too. First by allowing her to be born and have her first two seasons in the Lagoon and now to be separated from all she’d known, from her father.

She was away from him now, unable to make certain whatever wretchedness was in that place couldn’t touch him. He had shielded her from the monsters of her past, the shadows that’d chased her for months after she came to the harbor. He had saved her… And here she stood, the opposite end of Crossing Isle, uncertain what she was meant to do next.

Honeycutt had arrived shortly after an election had taken place and, when the Prime Minister stepped forward to give her decree, an option she had spoken of had somewhat… intrigued the small, stocky dun mare. She had been raised under a monarchy at war with neighboring monarchies. She had been raised by the understanding that she would one day, quite possibly, make them herself.

She had been rejected and betrayed by the ones who were supposed to protect her… but she knew politics.

Honeycutt would’ve never considered herself intelligent by any means (a life of being talked down to left her to have a poor opinion of herself) but the idea just wouldn’t shake from her mind with each day that passed. She didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. It would mean she absolutely could not help Osmanthus, not unless…

Honeycutt’s thick head lifted sharply as her golden-brown eyes widened. She blew a hard breath and felt her heart race with excitement and nervousness. After asking Cerinthe to stay with the nearest mare willing to keep an eye on her (she knew the girl was months old now but still worried), Honeycutt started off through the Peak to find the mare she needed to speak with.

She nearly lost her courage when she saw her standing a small distance away, stopping short and thinking: Maybe I shouldn’t bother her…

But she had to try.

“Um- Excuse me-” Honeycutt realized then that she wasn’t sure what the proper way was to address the head mare of the Peak. She flushed a little hotly. “Miss Prime Minister Ma’am,” was what came out, kind of rushed, and she inwardly cringed a little at herself but pressed on, “I’m Honeycutt, the mare Ashteroth brought from the Lagoon.” So ready to assume she was so insignificant, Marceline wouldn’t have an idea who she was.

“I… I was wondering if I could speak with you about that… envoy position you spoke of the other day? I know I’m new but… I’m interested.” She felt nervous but made herself meet the mare’s eyes anyways. She knew it would be best to at least raise her chin and take the rejection politely and kindly.