A/N: This is the last chapter. See you on the other side!

It had been absolute chaos in the minutes following the birth of the newest member of the family whose name was now officially Sadie Elizabeth Weasley. In the time since then, Hermione had been given her first look at her tiny daughter after they had checked her over; ten fingers, ten toes and a wicked set of lungs. She had calmed down immediately after being snuggled to Hermione's chest and the new mother could do nothing but stare down at her.

"We can talk later, Hermione. You must be very tired," Elizabeth Granger had tried to tell her daughter.

"No!" Hermione had reached for her mother's fingers as she had made to pull away as Hermione had been momentarily distracted by the body she was holding tight. "Don't go. Please don't go. Just stay here with me."

Roger Granger's eyes had been cloudy from the moment Hermione had laid her own eyes on him, and at that they fully glistened. Hermione in turn had burst into tears again.

"I just don't want to let you go quite yet," she had hiccupped.

"Oh pumpkin, don't cry. It breaks a dad's heart," he had responded softly, settling with his wife again to sit quietly as Hermione worked over all the things running through her head while balancing the hormones in her body that were swinging back and forth after the birth of Sadie. "We aren't going anywhere."

"But you must be terribly upset with me," Hermione had choked out, careful not to disturb her little girl's slumber.

"Darling, all of that worry is for naught," her mother had patted her leg gently. "How could we be mad at you for protecting us the best way you knew how?"

"You've succeeded, haven't you? Here we are, my bright little witch, and here we shall stay. So have a nap, and we can talk about it later at length. If I recall correctly," her father had joked, pretending to have a hard time with the memories, "'at length' is your preferred style."

Now, the delivery room was quiet. Hermione had finally let her parents leave in the custody of Molly and Arthur who were going to make sure that they got back in to the hospital tomorrow to visit after Hermione had had time to rest a bit.

Blinking her eyes open, Hermione realized that it must be late at night or quite early as the room was dark, only the hall light shining through the small window in the door casting a faint contrast over the room. George was there fast asleep in the chair, the two new parents sandwiching the clear acrylic bassinet that their daughter was asleep in. He was slumped to the side with his head leaning heavily on his limp shoulder and his arm was extended as though he had nodded off while his hand was holding the side of Sadie's hospital crib.

Sadie Elizabeth. Elizabeth, after her muggle grandmother of course.

Hermione gazed at the man in the dim light, committing those moment to memory forever. Dishevelled and out cold, he was perhaps the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on in that moment.

George had explained quickly that he had been going away on business at the beginning of the year, but the new law had put an end to the deal they had been making with another company in Wales to buy them out; the owners had decided to keep the shop and the products so they had a steady income for the family now that the owner's daughter was about to have a baby with her Ministry match.

George, of course, had understood. He wouldn't want to be in a position where he couldn't provide for his child and his wife and he sympathized.

After the deal had fallen through, George had made it his mission to get Hermione's parents back. That started with ensuring that all the remaining Death Eaters were locked up for life so that Hermione wouldn't worry about her parents being in danger after they were found, their memories restored and brought back to England. George was well aware of how big a hole their absence had left in Hermione's life, no matter the noble reason she had had for sending them away.

He began helping the Wizenagmot and the Aurors with finding the people who would be able to give reliable testimony as to the guilt of the remaining followers of the Dark Lord, those of which had thought they would get off scot-free because they weren't brought in with the first biggest bunch to be sentenced to life in Azkaban. It required a lot of effort on his part, with the help of Fred and Lee, to remember everything they had reported on over PotterWatch during the duration of the final year that lead to the Final Battle at Hogwarts. Their memories were often the ones that would guide the Aurors in the right direction, their ability to recall names and circumstances mind-blowing. It was tough, it was time consuming and it was trying on his patience, but in order to secure them, he had to remain professional and detached and not let his feelings get in the way of the law professionals doing their work.

On top of that, he was organizing and coordinating with their relator to find them a place to live that Hermione would be happy with, balancing the actual running of the shop more now that Fred wasn't there as often and trying to keep Hermione none-the-wiser about all of his plans.

Nott and Yaxley, the Death Eaters that he had pointed out to Hermione had been arrested in June, had signalled the end of the end for the extremists. With the sworn accounts of not only the Weasley family but of every person that would come forward against the last few, George had helped secure them a life sentence. Nott and Yaxley were quickly followed by the Carrows, Macnair, Avery and Dolohov, all of which who had been trying to convince whoever would listen that they hadn't been followers of Voldemort by choice.

He hadn't told her any of this, regardless of his want to, because the Law forbade him, and he hadn't spoken of his plans for her parents so that he didn't get her hopes up. He wasn't sure if the Healers would be able to restore their memories without giving them massive brain damage or messing up some other essential functions like breathing or short-term memory. Brains were tricky things.

"I'm so sorry," George's gravelly voice broke the delicate silence of the late hour and Hermione's eyes snapped back up to his face. His eyes were now open and a moment later he shifted and raised his head. "About everything. I hated sneaking around, and I despised having to use your pensieve memories to find them and give them back their own memories," he continued, clearing his throat and waking fully.

Hermione blinked and steadied her breathing. She knew all of this now; George had given her the complete truth. The perfume she recognized on him at the party had been her mother's. The reason Hermione hadn't made the connection was because not only did she have no idea George was even in contact with her parents, but the perfume had been her mother's favourite back when Hermione was just a child. Elizabeth hadn't worn that particular scent in years. It turned out that while they were away, Elizabeth had had a sudden desire to wear the perfume that had defined the early 80's for her and so she had hunted down the fragrance by Estee Lauder. Hermione had smelled it on George after he had gone to check up on them at St. Mungo's the morning of Harry and Ginny's party.

It had shocked Hermione to know that her parents had been back in Britain for over a month without her knowing, but George had insisted that their return be kept under wraps while the very last trial had taken place and Hermione could find no fault in that. During the time they were back in secret, they had been recovering and were being closely monitored to make sure their mental states were fully integrated and that no lasting damage had been done either by Hermione's hand, or by the hands of the well-meaning Healers.

The reason it had taken so long for George to be found when Hermione had been admitted to St. Mungo's was because no one had known about her parents, and no one knew he would be visiting them a few floors below the maternity ward in Spell Damage.

He had been at the hospital the whole time and had raced down with both of her parents the moment he had found out.

"I know you're sorry, and I understand why you kept it all from me. But I wish you had had enough faith in my ability to recognize for myself what I can and can't handle. I think I've gotten a lot better at it over the last seven months," Hermione croaked in response.

His apologies helped, but it would not magically fix everything between them. Luckily, Hermione very much thought that time would.

After all, he was a good man and she loved him very much.

In the time after Sadie had arrived, Hermione had spent many hours awake at odd times, being sleep deprived and staring for rather long periods of time at her tiny daughter while George took care of them and the house with the help of Hermione's mother.

This was especially helpful when Hermione had felt well enough to work on her book for short periods of time throughout the day. The deadline was drawing closer by the day, and even though the majority of it was done, Hermione still strived to make it the best it could possibly be. As hard as it was for Hermione to tear herself away from the little girl and leave her with her father for an hour or two, it had to be done.

Born seven pounds, 6 ounces and nineteen inches long, Sadie had sported a fine crop of dark brown hair that was the softest Hermione had ever felt in her life. Thankfully, the little girl seemed to have inherited George's texture, for it lay relatively flat and gave no hint of a future of unruly curls like Hermione's had, even at her birth. A plump round face with a slightly upturned nose rather like her mother's, and a grip like a vice when she got a hold of anyone's finger. The two new parents had waited patiently to get a glimpse of her eyes during their stay at the hospital and they were rewarded with a dark blue peeking out from under feathery baby eyelashes.

Both sets of grandparents had cooed over her, Hermione's parents trying hard to reconcile the Hermione they had seen over two years ago with the Hermione in front of them now. War hero, married, first time mother, book author.

When the time had come for them to leave the hospital, George had insisted on dressing her teeny body in the only onesie he had agreed to bring, 'Bewitching' emblazoned across the small torso. The degree of proudness he had given off after successfully dressing her himself had been heart-warming, and had started the slow process of getting back to normal for Hermione.

On the morning of September 20th, the day after Hermione's birthday, Hermione had made her first trip out of the house into Diagon Alley to meet with her editor Amelia. Her first apparition in eight months had been a bit shaky on the landing, but it had felt great to get that tiny bit of her freedom back.

The appointment had gone very well and Amelia had been very pleased with the draft of the last chapter. The very last section was all about the Final Battle, and it had been the hardest for Hermione to write by far. Not only was it still so recent and a large part of her life, but she had endeavoured to write it as unbiasedly as possible. The parts that she had added on from scratch had been prefaced by a small foreword and a single quote:

History is written by the victors.

-Sir Winston Churchill

Muggle Prime Minister and Officer of the British Army

It was not about gloating that she had been on the winning side, but rather a reminder by Hermione to the many readers that would hopefully devour the book that history always has two sides; the victors and the defeated always believe they have the moral high ground for different reasons. It was a cautionary tale about self-examination and beliefs.

When Hermione had returned home after taking the muggle underground and enjoying her first walk outside of the house with the privacy of her own thoughts and nothing more, she had climbed the stairs only to find her mother's shoes and bag gone from their spot by the front door and the house silent. Frowning, she peeked her head around the corner and into the sitting room.

George was on his back on the couch with his feet up fast asleep while Sadie was curled up on his chest with her head tucked under his chin, her little arms and legs pulled close to her body and back curved under George's palm. Compared to her dad, she was unbelievably tiny, just a curled up like a little bean on her front and fast asleep.

Like father, like daughter.

"History is something that must be safe-guarded; it is often cyclical and therefore a sign of the shape of things to come..."

Hermione had taken to dictating her last edits and adages for she could think and read hands-free but when it came to writing, especially with a quill and ink, holding Sadie often made the words illegible. The one month-old was nestled in the crook of Hermione's arm happily as she fed and the new mother was grateful for the general contentedness of her first-born.

"No, scratch that last, it sounds a bit too pompous, doesn't it sweetheart?"

The enchanted quill that was doing the scrawling for Hermione dipped again into the open inkwell and scratched through the last lines that had come from Hermione's mouth yet again. Writing her dedications and afterword had been the most difficult out of all of it. History was one thing to write; it was to the point and factual, mostly. But this? This was something different entirely.

"Pompous? Do you need your inner Percy removed again?"

George appeared at her office door, lopsided grin on his face as he observed his wife sitting at her desk with his daughter happily feeding in her arms. Hermione knew that she must look a mess after a day home alone with a new baby but she had learned that some days, the very most you can do is get out of bed and sometimes wash your hair.

Which she hadn't done for a day or two.

"Will you do it for free this time? I fear I have nothing to offer in return for a Percy-ectomy," Hermione shook her head in dismay and George grinned.

"You have plenty," he winked.

"Oh, don't be gross, I haven't showered in days," Hermione grimaced and raised a hand to adjust her topknot.

"And yet here I am, on my way to kiss you," he laughed and approached, bending down to kiss the soft skin of his daughter's forehead and then raising up to slant his lips over Hermione's gently. She had thought that this would be a peck, but kept their lips connected finally releasing her when she gave a soft sigh up.

"That's what I was waiting for," he grinned and righted himself. "Give me a mo' to set up the bath and then I'll take her and you can finish up here."

Hermione smiled thankfully as Sadie unlatched herself from her chest and George left his two girls to cuddle. Hermione burped the little girl and they both sat quietly, listening to George draw a bath in the master suite and lay out the towel and small pyjamas for afterwards.

"Alright, I'm ready!" he called, his voice echoing around the bathroom downstairs and up to her through the stairwell.

"Here we go," Hermione grunted and stood. The little girl tried raising her head from Hermione's shoulder to observe where they were going but she wasn't strong enough to keep it from wobbling and thumping back down quickly.

They had learned through a bit of trial and error that Sadie hated baths with a passion unless she was allowed to lay on George's chest.

"Now I know I'm in the buff but there's no need to ogle me like you did last time," George commented as Hermione rounded the corner and she laughed at him. He had moved everything on the lip of the tub to be within arm's reach and was wetting a soft washcloth in the lukewarm water beside him.

"Ah, yes, I do apologize but it can't be helped," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You mean you can't help it," George gave her a grin and accepted the tiny bare body of his daughter, lowering her to his chest and reclining against the back of the tub. He covered her back with the warm damp washcloth and she squirmed against him. "I don't blame you, love."

"Do you want me to stay?" Hermione asked, lowering the toilet lid and making to sit.

"Nah, we're fine. You go do your thing, I'll call when we're done," he smiled.

Hermione mirrored his smile and rounded the corner back into the master bedroom, deciding that she could use the next fifteen to twenty minutes wisely by tidying up the mess in there.

A wave of her wand sent the notes on her side table to join the rest in her office, banished the dirty bottles down to the kitchen and directed the laundry basket to scoop up any clothing that happened to be on the floor. Magicking fresh sheets onto the bed, Hermione sighed in anticipation of bedtime, knowing she would sleep soundly aside from waking up to feed Sadie.

Things with a new baby were a bit hectic sometimes and though Hermione's mother was more than willing to help out a few times a week, they didn't want to take her up on her offer too much. Even her father had stayed with the little girl in the time since her birth and Hermione had come downstairs after sending an owl off to her editor to find him educating the little bundle in how to properly swing a golf club.

It was still very odd to have her parents back. Not unwelcome; in fact she was quite excited for obvious reasons. But the shock of how suddenly they had appeared back in her life still struck her sometimes. She had always thought that she would have time to find them, secure them a place to live, give them their memories back and go through the healing process over a timespan of months. They did go through those things, it was just George who had orchestrated it as soon as he could.

Elizabeth and Roger had both been caught up to speed on her life and were familiar with the reasons as to why their daughter had gotten married. Hermione had also told them in no uncertain terms that she loved George, and he her, no matter how they had managed to get there in the end.

"Well love," her father had offered one day when he had relieved his wife of helping Hermione in the first week of being home, "I know you're still hurt over George keeping things from you, and I see why. But I also see why he did it. Even though he made my daughter cry, I can say quite certainly that you couldn't pick a better man than him to marry."

"But he lied," she had remained resolute.

"But not out of malice," he had clarified wisely. "And you've already spoken to him about it. You can see his logic, yes?"

"Yes," Hermione had acknowledged.

"Excellent. Now I will take my darling granddaughter and she and I will have a fabulous time of her napping and me with the watching her nap and you will go and take the time to talk to him about this and be clear with what you expect in future. Because until you do, you won't feel the weight lift off your shoulders. That way, if there is a next time, you will know that you had been clear."

The resulting talk had helped them close the gap between them quite a bit, and time would fill in the rest. Jump ahead four weeks and things were largely repaired, so her father had been right.

A wail from the bathroom caught her attention and Hermione grimaced, realising the sound must be a lot louder for George who was in an echoe-y bathroom with the little noise-maker.

"I know, I know," she could hear him trying to console his daughter. "Just a minute more, I promise. And then warm jammies and snuggles. Doesn't that sound like the best thing since breastfeeding?" he joked with her.

Another cry.

"There we are. All done, princess."

Sadie's first birthday had gone swimmingly and Hermione grinned to herself thinking of the way her quiet daughter had tried her damndest to use her baby fork to eat her first slice of cake instead of planting her face in the centre of it like Rhys had.

"Definitely your daughter!" Harry had laughed while trying to help his goddaughter with her utensil, cameras flashing from around the dining room, while Ginny hovered off to the side trying to contain their son James in her arms.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably on the bench as she waited, idly finishing the remains of a sundae they had purchased and shared in celebration of Hermione's own birthday that day. George and Sadie had wandered off, the littlest one of the two toddling beside her father, grasping tightly at his hand as he bowed low enough for her to catch it in her grip.

Another kick under the ribs and she hissed, looking down at her stomach.

That had been a surprise.

Hermione had finished her book perfectly within the limits of her initial contract, November 1st a calm affair where she had had the final meeting with her editor at the publishing house in Diagon Alley and they had sent everything off together for print. The book had been out in time for Christmas at the end of the year and they had seen a very good return on them, even better than expected.

Hermione had decided to take a few more months to be solely at home with her family while George handled the craziness of Christmas before she started on her next project in January. True to form, about two months into the new deal Hermione had found out that they were expecting again, and had spent at least an hour sitting on the toilet lid staring at the test sitting on the counter beside her wondering when they would learn to get pregnant with more convenient timing. Her due date was October 12, and she could not be happier to be in her last month again; the end was on the horizon. She had suffered through an unusually hot English summer while being largely pregnant and it had been torture. Hermione swore up and down that if it were to happen again, she'd like for it to be a spring baby, but she wasn't holding her breath.

"Yeah, you hold onto it. That's a girl, don't drop it..." George's voice drifted to her and she realised that they were coming back from their adventures. "Can you give those to mum?"

"Boo-fuh!"

"Yes, they are beautiful, just like you and mummy!" he slid onto the bench beside Hermione with Sadie in his arms. "Can you say 'happy birthday'?"

"Peeeeeeee!"

The two parents laughed and nodded.

"Thank you, sweetheart. Are those for me?" Hermione asked lightly and the little girl thrust her fist out to her mother, two orange-y pink tulips bobbing in her outstretched hand. "They are beautiful!"

On the morning of George and Hermione's second wedding anniversary, he gave her the gift of a long leisurely shower, amongst other things. That January 1st had dawned early for both of them, Sadie's small body wiggling into bed as George's left it to fetch the newest addition who could be heard crying out their hunger from the nursery across the hall.

"Good morning my darling girl," Hermione had snuggled the one-and-a-half-year old close for a few moments before pushing herself up into a more upright position and readying herself for George to deposit their youngest daughter into her arms in order to feed her.

"Happy anniversary, love. Here's my gift to you - a freshly changed baby!" he joked after returning to the room a minute later with a little bundle cradled in his arms.

Isla Jean Weasley had been born precisely on time, October 12th at noon. The little girl was nothing if not timely.

Where as Sadie had chocolatey brown hair that fell mostly straight, Isla had been born with head of hair that was an obvious mix of her parent's colouring. A medium browny red, it held a subtle curl to it with cowlicks Hermione could already see, especially after she had had a bath and her hair was damp. Sadie had been a relatively quiet baby, which had done wonders for Hermione's work schedule just after she had been born. Isla, however, had other plans and was quite vocal; not crying per se, but just making sure Hermione and George knew she was there and wouldn't forget about her any time soon, if that were even possible.

Sadie and George had spent the time in bed snuggling, the little girl laying on her father's chest just as she used to when she had been as small as her new sister was, although she was a lot bigger and longer now. Her small legs dropped to either side of George's stomach and her toes rested on the mattress as he rubbed her back slowly. After they had finished, George had offered to take them downstairs for breakfast while giving Hermione the time to shower at length.

When she emerged from the humid bathroom, the steam followed her out into the empty bedroom and Hermione dressed for the day. Taking the extra moments to herself, she dried her hair and braided it with more care than she normally had time for before catching the distinct smell of bacon wafting from the kitchen. Upon descending into the kitchen, she spied George's favoured set-up with the girls.

Sadie was clicked into her highchair and pushed up close to the table there while Isla cooed from her rocker that was perched there on the table itself. Both girls were staring in awe at the show taking place in front of them, the younger of the two with a much more glazed and unfocused look. Bubbles floated and danced in front of them, making a gradual colour change as they hung in the air. Blue to green to yellow, and on through orange, red, pink and violet.

"Pint!" Sadie cried as her favourite colour emerged, her finger extending to try and grasp one of the bubbles but they remained firmly out of her range of motion.

"Pink again?" George asked, busy turning the bacon over and spooning more pancake batter onto the griddle.

"Pint!" she cried again and when he had finished, he turned to flick his wand. The bubbles all started to cycle through pinks after that and Hermione nodded in approval.

"You're a magical genius!"

"I know," he grinned, and kissed her soundly.

"Aaaargh!" George cried and there were screams and yells from all around the back garden where everyone was gathered for Victoire's fifth birthday and for Harry and Ginny's fifth wedding anniversary. The balmy May day had presented the opportunity for a backyard picnic at the Burrow and everyone was in attendance.

The couple of the hour had brought their sons James and Albus and the witch had just found out she was pregnant for the third time, swearing as Hermione had that number three was the last one.

Victoire and Dominique, Bill and Fleur's girls, were joined by Molly and Lucy, Percy and Audrey's girls as they ran around the backyard with Sadie, Rhys, Roxanne, James, Albus, and Isla. The kids were running haphazardly as Fred and George ran after them growling, encouraging the loud screaming and hysterical giggles from the group while parents looked on and took a moment to themselves.

"Here you are, dear," Molly's voice came from behind Hermione and she twisted around to spot the woman holding out a cold glass of lemonade for her.

"Thanks, Molly," Hermione accepted it gratefully, the heat of the afternoon getting to her even though she was sitting with her youngest daughter in the kiddie pools, playing with her toys and splashing the water around joyfully.

"I can have some?" a voice asked confidently and Hermione turned back and reached out a hand to help her three year old stand without falling face first into the water.

"You won't like it," Hermione warned. "It's sour."

"Sour?" Piper inquired, a confused expression adorning her face.

"Just remember I warned you," Hermione laughed and pulled the little girl close enough to give her a sip from her glass, watching her face expectantly for her reaction.

Piper's little mouth drew into a tight 'o' and Hermione laughed, pushing her damp red curls off her forehead as her little body shuddered in her purple bathing suit. The girl gave a little hop and splashed a bit, laughing.

"More?" she blinked her brown eyes widely up at her mother and Hermione nodded, instructing her to sit in her lap with a splash before handing the toddler the glass. Coaching her to take tiny sips, Hermione plunked a pink hat back on her head while the little girl was distracted and would tolerate it.

"Daddy, no!" screamed Isla as George lifted her from the ground and swung her around.

"Me next!" cried Victoire, her long fair hair flying out behind her as she ran around and latched herself to George's leg.

"No, me next!" came James' voice as he rolled around on the grass with Fred, play fighting.

"No, me next!" Charlie insisted, hopping down the back steps of the house and barrelling towards the group of kids there with a cry.

Charlie and Alyssa found out after being married that they would be incapable of having children, much to their displeasure. Hermione wasn't too knowledgeable on the details but the Ministry had had to accept the medical answer from the Healers at St. Mungo's and they remained happily married and became very involved as aunt and uncle to all of their nieces and nephews, babysitting and distracting quite often so that their parents could get some work done or squeeze in some time together without children under foot.

"Hello everyone! Sorry we're late!"

"Uncle Ron!"

There was s sudden shift in Hermione's lap and Piper made a dash fro her favourite uncle as he came around the house, Lavender following with their two boys, Aidan and Andrew. Hermione often thought that Lavender had no clue that her boys were named after famous Quidditch players, Aidan Lynch of the Irish National Team and Andrew Kirke who had recently joined up with Puddlemere United.

Piper threw herself at Ron and he scooped her up quickly.

"Hello, pip!" he laughed and she stopped giggling, stilling in his arms as he brought her to his chest.

"My name is not Pip, it's Piper," she insisted seriously.

"Right, I'm sorry, Piper," Ron nodded solemnly in agreement at the opinionated three-year-old.

"Lunch!" cried Mrs. Weasley and there was a large kafuffle as everyone started towards the long picnic bench off to the side, parents and children and grandparents, many moving bodies covered in sun lotion and dirt and water.

"Here," George appeared and offered his hand to Hermione to help her up from her seat in the pool as everyone gathered and jostled for position.

"Thank you," Hermione smiled gratefully, clutching her glass in her other hand.

"So you know how Ginny's knocked up again?" George voiced and Hermione turned to look at him over her shoulder after stepping from the water.

"Yes..." she narrowed her eyes at him.

"What do you say we try for one more?" he asked lightly with a small smile, running a hand through his ginger hair roughly while waiting for her reaction.

"Absolutely not!" Hermione laughed.

Ten months later they welcomed Juliette Lyra Weasley into the world.

A few notes for the end:

BSG AND Firefly reference in there, anyone catch them? Highfive if you did.

The internet tells me that Sadie means 'princess', which is purely coincidental given that a number of you were dying for moments where George would call his little girl 'Princess'. I picked the name aaaaaaages ago, back in September. It was always going to be a girl. It is a favourite of mine, as well as Isla, Piper and Juliette, though Piper is a recent discovery; I was watching 'How I Live Now' on Netflix on a recommendation from my friend and the youngest girl is named Piper and it just sort of stuck. As for George having four daughters, I think he adores them, is a fantastic father to them and has plenty of nephews to fill any sort of want for sons in his life. (A song I think describes his feelings at the birth of all three of them is White Dress - Ben Rector, more specifically with Sadie considering he and Hermione got married 'at the end of December' and she was pregnant already. The end of December is basically January 1st, okay?)

Hopefully everything is clear, and I wrapped up everything you wanted to see properly. I've been grieving the end of this story for weeks and as sad as I am to finish it, I am also incredibly proud. I think we've ended on a high note here. If my calculations are correct I just breached 200,000+ words and every single one of those words is dedicated to you guys. I appreciate you all so much.

So are you happy with this? Is it a favourite? Do you think you'll come back to it in the future? Are you going to come join me on my next tale?

Thank you (for this crazy ride!), and leave your last thoughts below for me.

P.S. - The first chapter of 'Retribution' is now up. Come say hello over there after you're done here!