XXIII

Epilogue

One year later …

"There you are, my love! If you don't hurry, we're going to be late," the Countess of Dunsmore said as she hurried into her husband's shop. She rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek as his arm slipped about her waist to support her.

"Dearest, I sent word to the castle I'd be back before ten," Rumpelstiltskin said gently before he became distracted. "Gretchen, no, dearie, that blue wool goes to Lady Danbridge in Lykaster. Don't mix it in with the order going to Tannen." He sent the girl off to correct her mistakes, and smiled apologetically at his wife.

She arched a brow at him, clearly amused. "Yes, I know. Which is why when the hour approached eleven and still you hadn't returned … well, I thought we'd come to see what was keeping you."

The earl groaned. "I'm sorry, Belle. I suppose I let the time get away from me. At least we don't have to be in Avonlea for the christening until three." He brushed his lips to her brow. "Give me just a moment to speak with young master Patrick and we'll be on our way."

Belle watched him hurry off to the back of the shop to give instruction to his first apprentice, maneuvering lithely around several bolts of cloth and a large display of yarn. Atop his duties as liege lord to their small village, he took pride in operating his small spinning and weaving shop. It had come to the point where he'd had to turn away potential apprentices, as anyone with a measure of talent wanted to learn from him. Dressmakers and tailors from miles around – some even from so far away as Longborne – all wanted his fine wares for their shops. Special orders were filled for those – mostly noblewomen – who could afford his embroidery thread and yarn. And he poured the profits into the village, keeping only what was needed to pay his workers.

Her husband was in possession of a kind and generous soul. He wanted the village – for which he was responsible – to be prosperous and well cared for. It was growing at an alarming rate, and she wondered if they would have to begin turning people away as new families flocked to Dunsmore to settle down. Jefferson was never far from his side, guiding him in the business of caring for the crofters, maintaining their rented homes and seeing to the collection of taxes. Yet Rumpelstiltskin always had a new enterprising idea he wanted to implement. There was no unemployment, no homelessness, in Dunsmore.

During the first months of their marriage, Belle was sure he would work himself into the ground, but he'd seemed to only grow stronger. The power of his title was never abused, but used to help their people. "People in our village will not know what it's like to go to bed hungry, nor cold, Belle. They won't know the poverty I suffered while worrying if I'd be able to provide for my child day to day. If they're willing to work, then we'll provide work for them," he told her, so passionate, so driven, and her heart had swelled with pride in him.

"And what if we run out of space to house them all?" she'd queried innocently.

"Then we'll build more. Hence providing carpentry work for those who are experienced and in need of a job."

Their lives had settled into a comfortable routine. She spent mornings with Bae, expanding on the lessons provided by his tutor, and then she and Baelfire would join Rumpelstiltskin in the shop in the afternoons. When Bae would become restless, Thorrin would watch over him while he played with the many friends he'd made, and then together her little family would return home for dinner.

Certain days of the month were set aside for special tasks, but Belle didn't care as long as those tasks were carried out together. She didn't like to be parted from him for overlong, feeling as if a part of her were missing when they were separated.

Belle didn't understand how she could seem to grow to love him more each day, but she didn't question it. A game of chance in a tavern in an obscure little village in the Frontlands had brought her an untold gift. Who was she to question the will of the gods who saw fit to bless her? She snapped out of her reverie as his arms curled about her waist, his long spinner's fingers drawing nonsensical patterns over the swell of her belly where their child rested.

"Are you sure you're up to the ride, dearest?" he asked, pressing a lingering kiss to the curve of her neck.

"Two hours to Avonlea won't overtax me, I'm sure," she assured him. "We still have four months to go, Rum. I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

"Cheeky wench," he admonished, nipping her gently with his teeth. "I love you, Belle. I worry for you. I would … I don't want to think of my life should something happen to you."

She turned in his arms and cradled his smooth cheeks in her warm palms, locking her earnest gaze with his. "Then don't. Enjoy today and be happy."

He nodded and pressed his brow to hers for a long moment, relishing the feel of her in his embrace. He was happy … extremely so. "Come. Let's not keep Bae waiting."

*.*.*

Rumpelstiltskin paced a wide circle around the sitting area in the Great Hall, his nephew cradled in his arms. He cooed softly to little Liam as he tried to soothe him. The pomp and ceremony of his christening accompanied by the influx of guests in the palace for the feast to follow being too much for him. The wee babe – all of three months old – stared up at him with his cobalt blue orbs, his hand curled around the spinner's finger. "There now, sweetling, all is well," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the babe's tiny hand.

"Rum, you're going to spoil him if you're not careful," Lyssa chuckled from her spot upon the settee next to Belle where she sipped her tea.

Lucern lounged back in his chair and grinned at his wife. "It's good practice for when his own little one arrives, eh, Rum?"

"He's had plenty of practice with Bae, Luc," Belle joined in, her eyes seeking out her son across the room at the refreshment table where he stood with Abel and Grace. "And a fine job he did, too."

Rumpelstiltskin placed his now sleeping bundle in the bassinet next to his mother and moved to his wife's side. He was grateful to be off his ankle for a while. Though he no longer needed the aid of his cane, the weather or too much activity still sent a twinge of pain to the joint. He gladly accepted the tea Belle had prepared for him, his eyes scanning the myriad of guests who'd come to have a look at Avonlea's newest prince.

"Lyssa, love … I don't mean to alarm you, or cast a pall on this rather auspicious day – "

The princess blinked at her husband, bemused by his hedging. "But? Spit it out, husband, before we all expire from old age."

His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Grimmold's ship was spotted in the harbor this morning."

"Bloody hellfire!"

"Who is Grimmold?" the spinner asked, confused by Lyssa's heated reaction to the name.

Belle hid her smile behind the rim of her cup as her sister-in-law fumed silently. "Lord Grimmold is a former suitor, darling," she offered by way of explanation. "Edmund – Lyssa's older brother – tried to make a match between them."

"A match?!" the princess seethed. "The idiot would have sold me to the blackguard if my father hadn't put a stop to it. I can't understand why your papa would even allow him into port."

"You know why, sweetheart," Lucern said, reaching out to cover her hand with his. "He has a network of spies who feed him valuable information. On more than one occasion, he's brought us news which has foiled enemies against the crown. King George, for example, would have gouged Papa on their trade agreement if it weren't for valuable information Grimmold provided."

"Well, I am not obliged to like the man," his wife insisted. "Any man who makes his fortune dealing in nefarious activities such as he – "

Rumpelstiltskin set his cup on the low table and leaned forward, his forearms braced against his knees. "Nefarious?"

"Spies, piracy, slave trade," Lucern replied. "Nefarious indeed."

The spinner cast a cautious glance at his wife, and then searched out her knights with his troubled gaze. He would have to have a word with Gaston to tighten the security around his family. Lucern might not feel inclined to be wary, but Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't be taking any chances.

"Well, let's just hope he won't be in port for very long," Belle agreed with her brother's wife. "He's odious in the extreme and lord only knows who his pet of the month might be."

*.*.*

Icy cold grey eyes narrowed on the back of her master's head, bringing new meaning to the phrase 'if looks could kill'. She glanced down at herself in disgust, her lip curling as she took in the finery, the jewels sewn into the little vest and the wide waistband of the gauzy skirt she wore. The clothes she could stand - barely - the bands about her ankles and wrists, the collar and long golden chain about her neck – the mark of her slavery – which she could not abide. Her slavery, she thought bitterly, wondering for the thousandth time how she'd ever been brought so low. And not just any slave. Oh no! That would have been bad enough, but no, she was her master's prized concubine. Just the word, her title no less, made the bile churn in her gut.

Milah stumbled forward as Lord Grimmold – the lousy bastard – caught her woolgathering and gave a sharp yank on her leash. "Chin up, pet. Can't have you falling off the dock and ruining your clothes before we make the palace. How would that look?" he sneered over his shoulder at her.

"It would look poorly on you, master," she clipped out through clenched teeth in a deceptively docile tone. She knew when to pick her battles by now, having been with him for over a year now. She matched her steps with his, keeping her pace measured as she followed behind him along the sun weathered planks of the dock. Her gaze, though meekly lowered, raced over her surroundings, always looking for her one chance at escape.

"You would think you'd have learned by now," he sighed, dragging her behind him into one of the hired hacks which would transport them to the palace. A heavy hand to her shoulder pushed her down to her knees between the two seats, and she shuddered. He never let an opportunity pass to put her in her place. "I don't know why you have to make things so difficult for yourself, pet."

"Because I don't want to be owned by you!" she spat, her eyes flashing fury. She braced herself as he drew back his hand to strike her, her entire body tensing. She held her ground, raising her chin defiantly. She'd be damned if she let him break her.

"I'll have to deal with you later," he hissed, lowering his hand. "Don't want that lovely face marred with bruises when you'll be in plain view of others. Maurice might take exception to it." He took her chin in his harsh grip and brought her face close to his. "But don't think I'll let you off easily." He trailed the fingers of his other hand over the polished gold of her collar and then lower over her breasts. "There's always tonight."

Milah glared at him. Perhaps if he were handsome or kind, she wouldn't mind belonging to him, she thought. He provided well for her, after all. His cherished pet. If he wasn't so fleshy or hairy or cruel or … argh! It was all that bloody princess's fault! She should never have agreed to that game. Her luck had turned all right, but not for the better. She'd thought to take her winnings and begin a new life, one free to do whatever she wanted, to find love and happiness. Instead, she'd run afoul of one horrid happenstance after another. Only one thought consoled her through it all. Her poor pitiful former husband was nothing more than a slave. A smirk toyed at the corner of her mouth as she thought of Rumpelstiltskin. At least she wasn't alone in her fate.

*.*.*

"Now as I have already explained, pet … are you listening to me, girl?" Grimmold snapped in impatience.

"Yes, master." Milah quickly righted herself as he yanked her out of the hack. She clenched her toes against the soft leather soles of her sandals to keep them in place before she lifted her gaze to his.

"It is imperative to stay in the king's good graces." He tightened her chain around his fist and pulled her forward to whisper conspiratorially to her. "It's always good to have a few royals in one's pocket, per se. You are not to speak to anyone, do you hear?"

She kept her gaze focused on where she was going and nodded.

"That doesn't include me, by the way."

"I was simply following instruction … master," she bit out. Gods, how she hated to put voice to that vile moniker. "Where are we … er, I mean … which kingdom are we visiting?" she asked, more than a little impressed with the sheer opulence of the palace as she followed him through the grand entry doors.

"We are in Avonlea in the Marchlands. The sovereign is King Maurice who will be succeeded by his son Lucern, the crown prince." A look of distaste flickered across his ruddy features beneath his bright red beard. "The prince is married to Lady Lyssa. Ah what a fiery little piece. Nearly managed to gain her hand for myself."

"Lucky girl to have escaped your attentions," Milah muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" he asked, having clearly heard her. He wondered if she would dare to repeat it.

"You were saying?"

"Yes … " he said, giving her a piercing look. "The prince and his princess are celebrating the christening of their firstborn son. That, pet, is why we're here. It would behoove me to offer my congratulations … and a gift. His full lips smacked rather loudly in anticipation. "You will enjoy the feast, I'm sure. After your last punishment, I would think you'd savor a good meal."

"I'd rather starve than sit at your feet and eat from your hand," she hissed quietly. Her cheek earned her a sharp tug at her leash, causing her to crash unceremoniously into his broad back.

"Don't tempt me, pet. That can be arranged."

She didn't comment further as he led her towards the Great Hall. Apparently, he'd been there before, seeming to know his way around. Her eyes drank in the rich appointments, the smell of fresh baked bread and roasted meat – causing her stomach to growl loudly – filling the air, everything a delight to her senses. It was the kind of place she'd always envisioned herself … though on the arm of a high-ranking nobleman rather than her odious master.

Milah took a deep breath, inwardly cursing the heavily laden tables and their mouth-watering contents. Gods, she was starving! Thankfully, the receiving line to have a look at the wee babe wasn't too long, and she'd be able to eat soon. Even if it was at her master's feet. He was right; her stubbornness could only last so long.

She craned her neck – something her master frowned upon as well she knew – to estimate their time in line, and saw … HER! No! It wasn't possible. Not here! But it was her, that thieving, cheating princess who'd conned her into giving up her husband and child. She recovered herself quickly as rage settled in her breast and caused an angry flush to mottle her features. She couldn't allow Belle to see her, to see how far she'd fallen due to the hand she'd been dealt.

Swallowing back the bile burning her throat, Milah gently laid her hand on her master's arm. "Master? Must we waste time here to see the child?" she asked, her body language soft and biddable. His eyes narrowed suspiciously on her. "Perhaps we can return to the ship and spend a pleasant evening together."

His lips pursed into a moue of displeasure, his arm tensing beneath her fingertips. "No, I don't think so, pet. I'd rather like to have a look at sweet Lyssa's offspring." He pulled her forward with him as the line inched forward. "Now what is it you want in order to offer yourself so willingly? Or is it something … or someone, you'd rather avoid?"

"I simply wish to leave," she whispered urgently.

Grimmold laughed raucously as he saw through her ploy. "Then, by all means, we must stay. I am thoroughly intrigued."

It took a great effort to stop herself from stamping her foot. Instead, she ducked behind her master and focused on making herself small. She could just imagine the ridicule in store for her should the princess set eyes on her. Yet she couldn't help but watch the woman where she sat with her family.

"Mama! Mama!" Baelfire gushed happily as he weaved in and out through the guests to make his way to the sitting area. His face was flushed and the smile on his lips brought out the deep dimples in his cheeks. He stopped before Belle and presented her with a rose. "Look, Mama, Grandpa's hybrids are in bloom."

Belle beamed at the boy as she took the ivory and mauve rose from him, bringing it to her nose to inhale its heavenly scent. "It's beautiful, darling. Are these the same ones you helped him plant?"

He nodded enthusiastically, nestling into her side as he sat beside her on the settee. "They are. Will you and Papa come out to the garden with us and see?"

Milah's jaw dropped as she watched her son call another woman 'mama'. What the hell was going on? When she'd sold Bae to the princess, she'd expected him to be a servant – much like Rumpelstiltskin was destined to be – yet he was calling her 'mama'. She took in the changes wrought in his features over the past year and tears burned at the backs of her eyes.

Grimmold raised a brow as he looked down at her. She had never deigned him important enough to share her past, and he had a sneaking suspicion it was about to catch up with her. He wouldn't miss this for the world, even if making her stay there and face it would make her unbearable for the next week or so. "Is something wrong, Milah?" he asked quietly.

She jerked her gaze to his, more than a little surprised at his use of her given name. So surprised, in fact, she lowered her guard enough to answer honestly. "That's my son," she whispered brokenly.

"Your son?! Then … you're Dunsmore's ex-wife?" he asked incredulously.

Milah frowned. "Dunsmore? I'm not following. I was married to a cowardly spinner whose greatest achievement was running instead of fighting in the ogre wars," she spat bitterly.

"The princess's husband, her former servant who was granted an earldom when he saved the life of her brother … the prince."

She shook her head, her body stiff with shock. "No!" she hissed. "No, it can't be the same man." She refused to accept it, couldn't allow herself to believe it. Fate couldn't be so bloody cruel. However, she couldn't dispute the unmistakable face and frame of her former husband as he strode forward and helped the princess up from her seat. Her eyes widened further as he did so without the aid of his walking staff. How the hell had that happened? And then her eyes narrowed on the evident swell of Belle's belly. Oh, this just got more and more unbelievable.

Seeing the little family were about to leave the gathering, Grimmold tightened his hand around Milah's leash and pulled her forward. "Lady Belle," he called, catching her attention with his jovial tone.

Belle groaned inwardly as she turned, pasting a pleasant smile upon her face. It mattered not that she wasn't Avonlea's high princess, she was still duty-bound to be courteous and diplomatic with her father's subjects. "Horace, how nice to see you," she said, holding out her hand in greeting. She tried not to shudder as his lips brushed her knuckles.

"You're as lovely as ever, m'dear. And might I congratulate you on your marriage. I was so sorry I wasn't able to attend your wedding."

"Thank you," she said, inclining her head to accept his well wishes. "And who is your friend … "

"Milah …" her husband gasped, his face draining of color as he stared at the woman half hidden behind the corsair.

Belle's attention shifted to the woman she'd hoped never to see again, only to feel her son's hand slip into hers and pull her over to stand beside his father. She looked down to find Baelfire's eyes beseeching her. "Make her go away, Mama."

Maurice rose anxiously from his chair next to Lucern and stepped forward, hoping to diffuse the coming scene. "Horace, have you tried that delectable torte Mrs. Potts just put on the buffet? Why don't we have a piece and discuss business while everyone becomes reacquainted? Surely, your lady friend can spare a few moments to speak with my children," he said, his tone casual enough to put them all at ease, but firm enough to let the man know he wouldn't be taking no for an answer.

Grimmold nodded, pausing only a moment to drape her chain around her neck. "Behave, pet. I won't be long."

"Hey, Bae, why don't we go find your friends, yeah?" Lucern said, reaching out to take his nephew's hand. "And Thorrin, too. We can walk out to the stables and visit with the new foals."

Baelfire looked up at his mother, his grip growing painful on her hand. "Mama, I don't want to leave you." His eyes swung to Milah and she frowned at the fear she saw in his eyes.

Belle pressed a kiss to his brow and cradled his little face in her hands, silently cursing the woman for showing up now when Bae was finally better able to deal with her abandonment. "It's alright, my darling boy. I know how much you've wanted to see the new foals, and when you return, we'll go out to the garden and see your roses. I promise it will be fine."

"Can't you come with me?" he asked, terrified his birth mother would try to take him from Belle.

Belle pressed her lips close to his ear. "Papa needs me right now. Your uncle will not allow anyone … anyone, to take you from us. Let me help Papa and then I will come for you."

Bae puffed out his little chest and gave her a solemn nod. "Ok, Mama."

Belle's eyes flashed fire as she watched her son leave with Lucern. "Come with us," she said, slipping her hand into the crook of her husband's elbow. "Unless you'd rather have this conversation here in the hall for all to witness. I'm sure it would greatly entertain the court."

Milah was left with no choice but to follow when Gaston and Merrick flanked her, leading her to the salon behind Rumpelstiltskin and Belle.

Belle was so angry, she trembled. She squeezed her husband's arm. He hadn't said anything aside from the horrified whisper of her name. "Are you alright, Rum?"

He shook his head, looking back to make sure he hadn't been hallucinating. "What is she even doing here?" he hissed angrily. Color suffusing his cheeks now that he was assured he wasn't losing his wits.

"We're about to find out," she said, patting his arm with her free hand. "Should I ring for tea?"

Rumpelstiltskin gaped at her, suppressing a chuckle. He appreciated it that she was trying to lighten his mood if only for a brief moment. "I'm thinking something stronger would be more fitting, dearest."

Belle pulled Gaston to the side when they reached the salon. "Gaz, please ring for some mead for Rumpel. I'm afraid he's going to need it."

"We haven't had dinner yet, Belle. Are you sure? The spinner's a bit of a lightweight when it comes to drink," he returned.

"Knowing him, he'll sit there and hold it just to have something to do with his hands. Please, Gaz."

He nodded and he and Merrick withdrew from the room, leaving the earl and countess alone with Grimmold's plaything. Rumpelstiltskin sat on the sofa, silently glaring at his ex-wife as Belle moved to sit beside him. The tension in the room was palpable as neither of Bae's parents wanted to be the one to break the silence which had fallen between them.

Belle sighed and leveled the woman with a piercing stare. "What are you doing here, Milah? You are in direct violation of the contract –"

"In case you haven't noticed, I didn't have much of a choice," she snarled, pointing a finger at the collar about her neck.

Rumpelstiltskin waved an impatient hand. "How the hell did this happen to you?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. "With the amount of gold you gained from Belle, you should have had enough to make yourself quite comfortable. Why would you sell yourself?"

Milah's lip curled in disgust. "You would think I'd sink so low as to sell myself, Rumpel," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I was more than set to enjoy my winnings … things just didn't go according to plan."

"Do tell, dearie," Belle snorted, rather enjoying herself enough to use one of husband's favorite affectations.

The woman's eyes narrowed. "It was like I was cursed. I never should have agreed to that game with you," she spat. "My life has been nothing but a living hell since the day I met you. I was set upon by thieves not even a day out of that pathetic village. I was thrown onto a ship and bound for the slave market. I've been with Grimmold for over a year and you couldn't even contemplate what tortures I have suffered at his hands! And all the while, my husband – "

"Ex – husband!" the spinner corrected.

" – enjoys every comfort!" she cried bitterly.

Gaston returned to the room and pressed a tankard of mead into his friend's hands, his eyebrows raised in askance. "Is there a problem, m'lady?" he asked, turning his cold gaze on Milah.

"Everything's fine, Gaz, thank you," Rumpelstiltskin said, draining half the contents in his cup. "Actually, everything is bloody well perfect. Poetic even." A slow smirk quirked his lips as he rose from the settee.

Gaston retreated to lean against the cold hearth, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the little drama with amusement. It wasn't often he was treated to a glimpse of the spinner's snarky side.

"Rum?" Belle asked, almost able to feel the tension radiating from him.

"No, Belle, think about it. Karma is a fickle bitch, isn't she? For years after I returned from the war … no matter what I did to try to please her, it was never good enough. And she was more than a little vocal in her displeasure. She was horrid to me and she neglected our son. Yet I stayed with her because she was my wife. I had a duty to protect her."

"You should have left!" Milah screeched. "I couldn't have made it any plainer I didn't want you!"

He set the tankard on the end table with a thunk as he pointed one long finger in her direction. "I'm bloody well glad you hated me, Milah. Your hatred pushed you into wagering me in that game and I couldn't be happier. Baelfire couldn't be happier, and it's all because of your greedy hate-filled heart."

"Bastard!" she yelled, swinging her balled fist at him.

Rumpelstiltskin caught her wrist, his grip causing her to flinch. His smile was wide as he chuckled, the sound making her all the more furious. "You served me up to Belle on a silver platter and she taught me what it was like to have someone love me." He tossed her hand away and moved back to his wife's side, pulling her to her feet and slipping his arm about her waist. "Do you know what it's like to have someone love you unconditionally, dearie? Of course, you don't. How could you when you aren't capable of such a pure emotion."

Belle rested her hand over his heart, feeling the thundering beat beneath her palm. For a moment she was worried for his health, never having seen him so angry before.

"I have my wife, my son and another child on the way. I have love, Milah, and it was worth the misery I suffered at your hands."

His good fortune made her hate him all the more, but she held onto her temper. "I want to speak with my son. Allow me to speak with him and I'll ask Grimmold to take me away from here immediately."

"No," Belle interjected adamantly. "I'll not allow you to frighten my son."

"He's my son!" the woman cried viciously.

"No, he's my son. He ceased to be yours the moment you signed his bill of sale. He belongs to me and Rumpel and there's nothing you can do about it." Belle's chin lifted, every inch the princess she was born to be. "Gaston, please escort this woman back to Lord Grimmold."

"Do you wish for them to leave?" the knight asked, eyeing her cautiously.

"That won't be necessary. I won't deny Papa the business he needs to conduct with Horace. Just make sure she isn't allowed near Bae."

Rumpelstiltskin breathed a sigh of relief as his former wife was led from the room, his arms tightening about Belle's waist. He buried his face against the crook of her neck, breathing in her floral scent and letting it calm him. "I'm sorry I lost my temper, sweetheart."

Belle pressed a kiss to his temple and carded her fingers through the soft locks resting against his collar. "Think nothing of it, Rum." Her lips ventured lower over his cheek and along the smooth curve of his jaw to his ear. His body relaxed into her embrace and he shivered beneath her touch. "We knew it would happen eventually."

"Hm?" he breathed, his lips mapping a path along the slender column of her throat.

"We knew fate wouldn't be kind to one such as her. It was only a matter of time before we were confronted with what karma dealt her. I, for one, think it's nothing less than she deserves."

The spinner sighed and drew back to meet her gaze. "Then why do I feel just the slightest bit guilty?"

Belle snorted. "You have nothing for which to feel guilty. You didn't make her choices for her, Rum. If you feel guilty, it's because you are a good man with one of the kindest hearts I've ever known. She's made her bed, let her lie in it."

His lips closed over hers, allowing himself to get lost in the beauty of her kiss. "We should go fetch Bae from the stables and assure him all is well."

"Yes, I agree," she said, slipping her hand into his as he led her from the room. "And then I have something I'd like to teach the both of you. Lucern might even wish to join in."

"Yeah, and what's that, dearest?"

"Have you ever played poker?"

THE END

A/N: Ok, now I'm going to go curl up and cry because it's over. This has been such a great ride. Handwithquill gave me this beautiful prompt and I deluded myself into thinking I could make it into a o/s. 23 chapters later … yeah, I really enjoyed bringing this story to life. I want to thank all of you, my darling readers, for supporting me throughout the writing process. Your lovely comments and kudos fed my muse and made me unbelievably happy. I love you all so much. I'm going on hiatus for a while. I'll be writing, just not posting for a bit. When I come back, I promise to have something new for you all to read and enjoy.

My heartfelt thanks –

Charlotte :D

Hugs and deepest love to all my reviewers: Wondermorena, MyraValhallah, DMC182, Melstrife, lovepeacebubble121x, Christinaisawesome, Twyla Mercedes, Kathy Parker, ninewood, Guest, kristen0901, Grace5231973, Erik'sTrueAngel, fire90, CLKit, and Songbird1986