It was not my intention to let so much time lapse between updating - I am so sorry! I hope you enjoy this last chapter.

PART V: A Tolerable Solution

As the queen rushed towards her chambers, her dinner with Baron Beaver hastily, and some might say rather rudely, interrupted, all who saw her kept out of her way; the courtiers, who usually sought out every possible chance to get her Majesty's notice, didn't dare to approach her. Servants, who always had a reverent curtsy or bow and a friendly smile to offer for their fair queen, now turned their faces away and kept their silence. The ladies and lords, some more friendly with the queen than others, halted the greetings ready on their lips and pretended not to notice. All of this was not done out of malice or anger or jealousy, or any such petty human emotion. Instead it was born from respect, kindness and discomfiture.

Queen Snow, striding – nay, almost running – to her chambers, not caring who saw her, not caring to greet anyone or meet their eyes, looked anything but the composed and good-natured ruler. Her subjects, knowing instinctively that they weren't seeing the queen, but the woman, averted their eyes, giving Snow at least the illusion of privacy. By not acknowledging her, they let the tears wetting her cheeks to remain solely hers; personal and private, a secret.

-o-

Heart hammering, Snow entered her sitting room, but even there was no peace; a maid was half-crouched in front of the hearth and startled, she dropped her fire irons, stumbling into a hasty curtsy. Lips pursed tight together, eyes stinging, Snow strode to her bedroom door; a quick glance showed that at least that room was blessedly empty.

She went inside and shut the door; a hush fell over the world. Finally, Snow was alone. Here, she didn't need to be the queen. No one was there to see the tears that still dropped from her eyes infuriatingly, against her will. No one was there to judge her and to find her wanting.

Something soft touched her hand and Snow jumped back, already knowing what she would find at her side; the wolf's unique caress had become familiar and expected during the previous weeks. Eric had somehow managed to slip inside the room just before Snow had closed the door, and now the wolf stood in front of her, blue eyes questioning.

Hastily Snow turned away from him, wiping her eyes. Her heart still beat madly in her chest, like a wild bird trapped in a cage.

"I'm fine," Snow said, knowing the lie would have been transparent to even her most oblivious counselors, let alone to Eric, who always seemed to see right through her, to the very heart of her. For that very reason it hurt, to know that he knew and yet –

The wolf gave a low whine and pressed against her legs. Snow closed her eyes.

"No, I'm – I just…" The words got stuck in her throat, but as always his steady presence dragged them out of her. "We are right where we started, and I don't know what else to do." It was remarkable how he managed to coax confessions from her just with his silence, without saying anything at all. Just looking at her like – like, there was nothing more important than her words.

Almost against her will, the words started pouring out of her, a tight pressure that was finally released. "Maybe I am being unfair, maybe the Baron is wrong, maybe this spell cannot be broken – but I can't help but feel that everything he said was the truth, that if you just wanted –" Snow swallowed and stepped to the window, the world outside the glass so far away from the space that the two of them always created together; sometimes the outside world seemed unreal, like a half-remembered dream when everything was so vivid and bright with Eric's eyes on her. But really, it was the other way around; the space between them was the mirage that covered the real world that lay outside his pull.

The anger drained from her, leaving only tiredness and sadness in its wake. It was futile to fight against the real world.

"I know why you don't want to change back. You are afraid I'm going to ask you – to ask you to marry me. To be my consort. I know you don't want that." Snow couldn't look at him, so she kept her eyes at the blurred glass in front of her. "And I confess, I…I would have preferred it to be you, but no matter – you'll stay as my friend, won't you?"

She didn't get any answer, not even a low whine. The wolf was unnaturally quiet and still. Snow strode abruptly to the door and opened it wide, eyes now dry. "Please leave, I want to be alone." She was proud of how her voice sounded calm and collected. "I have to make some decisions. I have to pick someone."

The wolf didn't move for a long moment, but as Snow continued to hold the door open, he finally slunk out of the room. Snow breathed deeply and let the door close, only then noticing how her hands were trembling. She clenched her fists, nails digging painfully into skin. She had something she had to do.

It was time she honored her promise to the counselors, and most importantly, to her people. It was time to choose a consort.

-o-

Overwhelmed by thoughts and feelings that Eric hadn't let himself feel – or perhaps the better word is acknowledge – for a very long time, the wolf let his instincts take over. He ran and ran, the sounds, the smells, the sights, the whole world just a blur, a rush of wind. After an immeasurable time he found himself in the middle of a forest. The Dark Forest, to be precise.

Eric growled. Just perfect, he thought. Of course he would end up in this rotting freaking dump of an excuse of a forest. Agitated, the wolf stalked over twisted tree trunks and gnarled roots, turning back and then turning again, going over circles, no destination in mind. Snow's words ran in his ears; the impossible, unbelievable words.

Didn't he want to get his human form back? Hadn't he done everything to end the spell – true, there hadn't been that much to do, but that was hardly his fault – and hadn't he waited and hoped for a resolution? She had claimed that he didn't want to change back. Surely all the ridiculous wedding preparations had addled her brain. As for him being afraid of the queen asking him to be her consort…it was even more absurd. Firstly, he was not afraid – the thought about her asking that (the thought about marrying her) hadn't even entered his mind! (Liar.) And her claim that he didn't want to be her consort, that was – well, he simply hadn't thought about it. At all. (Liar.)

All of these were futile thoughts anyway. For it was impossible. No one would endorse him as the queen's consort. His name was not in the List. It never would be. Eric had accepted that a long time ago. He could be her friend and confidante and protector; he had always been glad that he could at least be that much. He had been a common soldier, and now he was just a common huntsman. Queens didn't marry his sort, they didn't love –

Eric let loose a hair-raising howl. A flock of ravens took to flight, bursting from the trees to the grey sky, their screams echoing long after they had gone. Exhausted, the wolf paused his restless pacing.

It had always been impossible. He had known that from the start.

But none of it mattered. Eric remembered Snow's tearstained face, the iron control she tried to cling to as the pressures of everything – those moronic counselors, the inane suitors, the blasted wedding, the devilish spell, and mostly Eric himself – tried their damnedest to crush her. He should be at her side, right that very moment, helping her shoulder the burden, and not causing more grief.

The wolf howled again, frustrated beyond all measure. He could be of no help as an animal; he couldn't reassure her, couldn't tell her that he would always be there for her, that he would always be her friend no matter who stood beside her throne as her consort. Couldn't say that she was wrong, that although it was impossible, he wanted – oh, how he wanted to be the one at her side!

And while he was howling his misery and rage in the woods, scaring every living thing in a hearing distance, Snow was going to pick someone – was at that very moment probably choosing one of those idiots to marry. For Eric knew her; knew her determination and honesty and pig-headedness. She had made a promise and she was going to keep it, damn the consequences to her future happiness. Snow wasn't going to wait anymore; she thought that dragging things out would just make things more painful, would give her too much time to second-guess herself.

Eric knew her. He knew what she really meant, when she said, I would have preferred it to be you –

The wolf growled, sharp teeth gnashing. He was such an idiot. So certain he knew her, all of her, but that had been his greatest self-deception. Eric had wilfully closed his eyes to the myriad of feelings visible every day in her face: the longing, the want, the love – the hope. For it would have been too painful to know, how her feelings matched his perfectly, when nothing could ever come of it. In other words: Eric had been a stupid coward, a bastard of a highest order.

He had to go back, he had to turn back, he had to go to her, he had to –

"Lost again, eh?"

Eric almost jumped from surprise; suddenly, somehow without him noticing, there was an old man standing just a few feet away from him. The old man. The one, who had started this whole mess in the first place by turning Eric into a wolf.

"Not true," the man cackled, rotted teeth in full display, "but true, very true."

The wolf growled, taking a menacing step towards the old crazy. Eric was so tempted – but it wouldn't do to eat the man before he could end the spell. The wolf flashed a sharp grin, but the old man ignored it as well as the dangerous glint in the beast's eyes. He continued to smile benignly, leaning on his walking stick.

"Good gift, yes?" The old man nodded to himself. "Good gift, they say."

Eric rolled his eyes. If the man would just get his big whopping crazy over with already and proceed with the transformation. Eric hadn't the time for this nonsense; he had to go back to Snow – preferably as a human. The wolf growled again, more pointedly.

"Impatient, eh? Always so impatient, men are," the man mused. "I don't give my gift just to anyone, no. A man I once made a fish, another a bird. And then there was the beaver…" Suddenly the man's eyes zeroed in on Eric's; his gaze seared right through the Huntsman, ageless, merciless and knowing. "But always, I did not give anything they didn't already have."

Then the world turned again: a bright flash blinded the wolf, a thunderous roar deafened him, and something terrifying, but now also familiar, shook and rattled his bones, tore at his skin, making him howl from pain and fear.

Then it was over and Eric woke to a duller, more muted world. But it was a wonderfully familiar world – a world where he was human again. A naked human, alone in the middle of the Dark Forest.

"You couldn't have spelled me some clothes? Or at least an axe?" No one answered and Eric burst into a manic laugh.

-o-

Snow was deep in counsel with her counselors, when the Huntsman burst into the Council's meeting chamber; the heavy oak door crashed into the wall as Eric strode into the room, out of breath. His rude manner of entry aside, he was a sight that was not usually seen in the chambers of the honorable Council. Eric's hair hung wildly around his face, there was a smear of mud on his cheek and he wore old, patched clothes, which were clearly too small for his big frame. In short: he looked like the village idiot.

A stunned silence fell into the room. It did not last long; the queen, almost afraid to believe her own eyes, rushed to the Huntsman and fell on his neck. "Eric! Eric." The counselors stared, aghast. This was not, most certainly, a very dignified behavior.

"You are back," the queen murmured against the Huntsman's chest as his arms came most scandalously around her. "But –" To the counselors' immense relief, her Majesty disengaged from his embrace and took a step back, lifting an enquiring eyebrow. "What on earth are you wearing?"

Surely it was impossible, but it almost seemed like the Huntsman blushed. He fidgeted and one of his big hands tried to tug the tight, threadbare shirt lower without much success; more than a sliver of his abdomen was visible to all and sundry. "Well, let's just say that I owe some farmer five gold pieces," the Huntsman shrugged, seemingly nonchalant.

"Five gold pieces for those rags?!" Count Tuppence exclaimed. "You sir, have been robbed."

"Well, these and a horse. And I was in a hurry," the Huntsman said, all of his attention on the queen, who had not taken her eyes of him once since he had entered the room. "I –" He sounded uncommonly hesitant, unlike his assured self. "I hope I am not too late."

"If you mean the wedding, then no – you have sufficient time to…make yourself presentable." Lord Trombone wrinkled his nose, wondering where on earth the Huntsman had been, for he smelled worse than usual. Really, the man's aversion to a good, scented bath was not natural. "The Midwinter's day is still ten days away – although there is no time to waste. Might I recommend the services of the castle tailor?"

The Huntsman let a sound escape that resembled uncannily the growl of some angry beast; the counselors couldn't help but shiver a little. "Thank you, Lord Trombone, for your kind suggestion. I'll take it under consideration." Although the words were courteous, the wide toothy grin accompanying them was most disturbing.

Before things between the counselors and the Huntsman could escalate further (of which they all had amply experience), Lord Hammond hurried to say, "I suggest that we take a short break from this meeting. Get some fresh air, something to eat. And I really need to inspect the wedding orchestra – they were still horribly out of tune yesterday. I might have to sack the trombonist."

"But we have to still –" Count Tuppence tried to protest, but was quickly interrupted by the queen.

"Excellent idea," Queen Snow said, still intently watching the Huntsman. The counselors got the hint; most of them peevish and all of them curious, they none the less slipped out of the door, leaving the queen and her Huntsman alone in the empty room.

Alone together, Snow searched for words and could only ask, "How?" Eric knew what she meant: how he was human again, how he was here, how all of this had happened in the first place?

"Met some crazy old man, had some epiphanies – it's a long story." None of it mattered. Only one thing mattered, everything hinged on it, on her answer. He had to know – although her answer might very well slay him, the suspense of not knowing was almost as bad. "Did you pick someone?"

"Yes," Snow said, and Eric's world shattered. "I was just telling the counselors," she continued, oblivious that nothing would ever be the same again. He loved her and he had lost her. She was going to marry another.

"Who? Who did you choose?" He managed to ask, though his throat felt drier than the desert.

"You. You idiot." Her smile was brilliant. "It was always going to be you."

"But I…you…" Eric knew he sounded incoherent at best; he couldn't believe that there might still be hope, didn't know how she could have chosen him, when he had done nothing but avoid her feelings, pretend his own didn't exist, and run away and get turned into a wolf for good measure.

"I did some thinking." Snow sounded solemn, the happiness in her eyes equal in size to the seriousness. "I decided to trust that I know you… I decided that I will not take no for an answer."

Eric couldn't help the small bark of relieved laughter that escaped him. She was amazing. He would never deserve her, not in a million years. "From me or the counselors?"

"Both." She grinned. "I was persuading them, telling how this is an obvious, easy solution. Trying to sing your praises – you realize that your rather uncivilized appearance might make things a little more difficult…"

He could do nothing but grin back; suddenly the bleak future he had imagined had vanished and all was frighteningly, excitingly open. "Well, best to not get them hope for miracles."

"I don't expect you to change – I don't want you to change a bit." Snow sounded earnest, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes as she continued, "Although…no wenches."

"No one but you. Not ever." Eric meant to sound teasing, but the words came out grave; a promise.

"So…" Suddenly Snow seemed almost shy, her cheeks coloring. "What do you say?"

"Are you asking me to be your consort?" He still couldn't quite believe it.

"I'm asking you to be my husband."

"I would be honored to be your husband," Eric said, aching to touch her. Suddenly she was standing too far away; he couldn't remember the last time he had held her hand in his or touched her smooth cheek with his fingers.

"But…?" Snow was still hesitant; Eric cursed himself silently – it was his fault for making her doubt his regard for even a moment.

"No buts." He took the few steps required to reach her swiftly, eagerly. Cupped her neck, his thumb rubbing her warm skin. Heard her sigh. "I'm done with objections. Done with being a coward." He swept his thumb to the corner of her mouth. She parted her lips slightly. "I want to be your husband – I love you."

"Good," she exhaled, eyes fixed on his mouth.

"Not to mention there is no one more suitable for the job," he couldn't help but add.

"Really?" She asked, her lips now tantalizingly close to his.

"Yes," he growled, making her laugh.

"I quite agree –this is…this is a rather tolerable solution…" The rest of her words were lost as Eric finally claimed her mouth with his own and proceeded to show Snow just how much he thought he was up to the job.

When the counselors came back from their break, they got their third shock of the day. (The first being the queen announcing her choice of a fiancé, and then the fiancé in question appearing to the scene dressed like the court jester.) After a very hasty and mortified retreat, the counselors agreed it was all quite impossible and well above their pay grade to fix. Best to just get the queen married as soon as possible, and all the accompanying madness over with. And after that, well…they were already counting the days for the heir to the throne to be born.

-o-

The readers may be rest assured that although Queen Snow's and her Huntsman's future hardly lacked trials and tribulations, they got to share them together, side by side. And as promised, that future began with the most magnificent wedding of all of the kingdoms that had ever been seen or heard or otherwise witnessed. All agreed that Duke Hammond had done an exceptional job; the wedding ceremony was tasteful and touching (hardly a dry eye in the castle), the wedding feast lavish and delicious (although the roasted mutton with mint sauce raised some eyebrows) and the wedding program inventive but suitably traditional (the majority of the guests were too drunk to notice that the trombonist couldn't keep a tune to save his life). And all this without a single bird in sight.

Even the most modest of men would feel proud and a little smug after such a feat, so it is no surprise that Duke Hammond felt quite content as he watched the revelers dance, drink and sing as the night grew older. All had gone according to plan and the queen had never looked as radiant and happy as when she had said her marriage vows. If the Huntsman could make her that happy every day hence, the Duke certainly could put aside his reservations about the match. Eric had definitely made a more dashing bridegroom than insipid Duke Gherkin, who had looked like he had swallowed a lemon, when marrying Lady Sonia the week before. Their wedding had been quite unimaginative. Many had already said that Duke Hammond had done a much better job. (And unlimited booze had nothing to do with their generous praise.)

The Duke sighed, suddenly a little bereft. It would be next to impossible to top tonight's celebrations. At best, there would be about twenty years before he could have a chance to plan another royal wedding. Maybe this would be his swan song, a graceful exit, when he was at the top of his game. But still – there were so many ideas left to fulfil, so many adventurous color schemes still left to explore. Maybe he should expand; after all, someone had to plan and execute the christening ceremony of the future heir to the throne. He was undoubtedly the most experienced, the most qualified. Once again, the kingdom needed his loyal service.

The Duke could already see it: it would be the most magnificent, most talked about, most exquisite christening ceremony there ever was…

-o-

The End