DISCLAIMER: Hetalia: Axis Powers – Hidekaz Himaruya

SNOW WHITE, BLOOD RED

EPILOGUE

MATTHEW

There are wolves in the woods.

Three, to be exact. And they're wrestling like overgrown pups.

"Ow—! Not the hair!" Francis yips, shrinking back into a human-man to rub his scalp. His long blonde locks are splayed across the dewy grass, shining in the sunlight. The huge, stocky chocolate wolf that is Antonio bows playfully at Francis' head, his tail held high and wagging excitedly, even as he licks his pack-brother's face in apology. Francis looks into Antonio's mischievous green eyes from upside-down and flicks his nose, making the chocolate wolf sneeze. Then he tumbles forward, changing shape as he does, and what results is Antonio holding Francis in a loving, but unyielding headlock.

"Oh, not the face!" Arthur calls, mock-scolding. "It's the best part of him!"

Antonio laughs and releases a disgruntled Francis, who disentangles himself and trots to his mate's side. He pulls on his discarded clothes and, as he sits, he presses his lips to Arthur's ear. I can't hear the secret he whispers, but Antonio wolf-howls crudely and Arthur quietly cedes:

"Well, one of the best parts."

He leans against Francis, who wraps an arm securely around his blanketed figure. My cousin coughs a little, but his frail health is a vast improvement upon what it was only months ago. He was so close to death after the feat he performed to save mine and Gilbert's lives, we didn't think he would survive. He fell into a long, feverish coma as his body fought the constant, clawing craving for faerie magic, which had been entirely purged from him. The sudden loss of it left his body in shock and desperately struggling to reacclimatize to an entirely human existence without magic. Even now, he shows signs of craving it in the form of chills and trembling and brief losses of focus. But he's alive, and he's healing, and Francis keeps a close, loving watch over him, and so we're no longer worried.

The first person Arthur wanted to see upon waking—after Francis—was Gilbert.

He called us all into the bedroom, then gestured for Gilbert to come to his side. "No," he said when the white wolf began to kneel. His voice was quiet, but not weak. With the last of his authority, he said:

"Stand, Gilbert. You're the alpha, now."

Gilbert immediately shook his head. "You'll get stronger—"

"I know I will," Arthur dismissed, "but being the pack's alpha isn't about physical strength. I think you know that, now."

Gilbert nodded.

"Does anyone disagree with my choice?" Arthur asked, casting a glance at us.

No one spoke, because there was no need. Gilbert was already the alpha of our pack in everything but name.

In example, Antonio bowed his head to Gilbert, baring his neck in respect and submission. There was a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. Then Alfred did the same, mimicking the wolf's posture with a smirk. Lovino, too, nodded in shallow incline. And then Francis and Arthur. I started to bow, but my life-mate caught my chin in his hand and said: "Not you, Songbird."

Those red eyes smile at me now from our pack's fierce-looking alpha. The white wolf sits where Antonio and Francis had lay sprawled, his tail swishing. The sun gleams on his—freshly washed—coat, but he no longer blends into the landscape, which is as green and lively as Antonio's eyes. The whole valley is animated with the sights and sounds and smells of spring, and I breathe it all in as I indulge in the world around me:

Arthur and Francis talking quietly beneath a leafy canopy. Al, snoozing lazily in the dappled sunlight nearby. Antonio, in search of a projectile to fetch. Lovino and his younger brother, Feliciano—who's house we're all currently living in—talking rapidly over each other as they come into the back-garden, carrying lunch. And Gilbert, his tall ears erect, his posture alert for danger. It's only habit now, because the city respects privacy in a way our former-village did not; the laws are judicial, not social; and the house is isolated and surrounded by thick, green forest. We're safe here—

—but tell that to our ever-watchful, overprotective alpha.

"Matt," says Feliciano, before I can go to Gilbert. He hands me a letter, saying it arrived by messenger only a moment ago.

I take it, and immediately recognize the magistrate's official seal.

Gilbert's nose twitches as he joins me, a growl rolling up his throat. I placate him with a pat as I break open the seal, and soon I'm absently rubbing his arm, because Gilbert has changed his shape to stand beside me. (Feliciano gives a little gasp, then nervously giggles, still not used to the rapid transformations of fierce, furred wolves into stark-naked men.) Gilbert tugs the red cape off my shoulders and drapes it over himself like a tartan.

"What's it say?" he asks, tying a knot.

It says that I've finally been registered as a widow, since Cal is dead. It says that I'm once again a free agent, no longer subject to matrimonial law. And it says that I've legally inherited all of my late-husband's assets. His house, his shop, his stock, his fortune, and all of his worldly possessions—everything is mine, now. And I already know what to do with it. I'll sell the house and the shop, along with all of its stock, and I'll throw all of his hunting trophies from a cliff the first chance I get, but his fortune? That I'm going to keep. It's going to pay Arthur's medical bills, replace all of our lost belongings, and buy materials for my family to rebuild a house of our own. I'm going to use that blood money to support our pack's future in whatever way I can.

"Birdie—?" Gilbert whines, knocking his head gently against mine. "What does it say?"

I look at my wolf, wearing my red cape like a storybook villain, and I laugh, because it looks ridiculous on his tall, muscular frame. But what he wears doesn't matter, because it's the heart that makes a man, not the skin—or fur—he wears. And it's not the wolf or human-man that I love about my life-mate. I simply love him because he's Gilbert.

"It says we're going to be okay," I tell him.

That snow white, blood red face smiles as he corrects me:

"We're better than okay, Matthew. We're happy."

I kiss his cheek in agreement. "Yes, Alpha," I tease, and receive a low, lusty growl in reply. Then softer, I say:

"Yes, my love, you're absolutely right."

ENDE

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