A/N: Here we are my loves, the end of yet another story. I had so much fun pulling the strings in this dark fantasy land! I hope you all enjoyed the tale of Edward and Isabella and their game of hearts. Now, to see how it all ends. I hope it does not disappoint! Until next time! XOXOX

Epilogue

High heels clicked against stone floors, alerting all those nearby of the arrival of the Queen of Volterra.

Guards stood up straighter as the queen approached, shaking as she gave them cutting glances. They had all heard the stories, the whispers, the nightmares. Only a fool would incur her wrath. It was best to keep a head down as she passed, to avoid eyes contact at all costs. Rumor had it that her eyes were so dark they were like endless voids. Other rumors spoke of one eye made of glass just like the mask that covered half her face. But they would remain rumors so long as the guards averted their gaze, kept their necks bent low in bows, watching only the train of her ink black dress disappear down the hall.

The Queen of Volterra liked to wear black. Some thought it was because she ws in mourning, though she had more to celebrate these days than mourn. It would have been a satisfactory theory had her gowns not also been scandalous in shape and cut, clinging to her frame and revealing all sorts of patches of skin, from thigh-high slits to gowns that lacked backs entirely. No one dared question the queen's virtue, however, not with her Executioner by her side dressed in black to match, the only color coming from his emerald eyes.

There were many things Volterrans did not question about their queen, things that went deeper than what she wore or the color of her eyes. But so long as the Queen of Volterra remained formidable and unapproachable as a mountain, remained reclusive and elusive, then so would the questions.

One thing that the queen did not hide was her hearts.

It was her signature, her calling card, her mark upon the world. With every battle won, every confrontation ended, she would reach into the chest of her fallen enemy and take their heart, only to put said heart on display in her palace. This was something she was proud of, something that she flaunted. With every conquest, her collection expanded, and grew to the point where the people of Volterra had gifted her another title: The Queen of Hearts.

Isabella did not mind the name. No, in fact she rather liked it. The Queen of Hearts was immortalized; her legacy would live on long after Isabella died, even if it was a legacy riddled with fear and bloodshed. That would have bothered Isabella once upon a time. Now, she thought such a legacy made her strong, made her equal to any king. Empires were a game of chess, and no one dared challenge her lest they be reminded why the queen was the most powerful piece on the board.

Sometimes, Isabella liked to peruse her collection and revel in her past victories. She could spend hours getting lost in her memories, going heart by heart, remembering all that came with them.

They all sat on obsidian granite pedestals, hearts placed in glass boxes, obsidian busts of their owners carved above. Isabella walked through rows upon rows of them, her heels clicking off the granite floors, the only sound to alert the dead of her presence. Her most prized hearts lied in the center of the room where the monuments were the most grand. Instead of busts, there were four full bodied sculptures, the hearts glass-covered and placed at the breast where they would have rest inside their bodies of flesh. The red stood out livid against the black stone, drawing all eyes to the still hearts.

Isabella walked up to the nearest statue: a wrinkled old king with a receding hairline, wild eyes, and razor-thin lips that expressed displeasure and madness in equal droves, even in death. She reached up to stroke the stone cold cheek, tutting. Aro was not her handsomest statue, but he was one of her favorites. Seeing him brought back the memories of his death, of watching him choke on the poisoned pie she had fed him on their wedding night. The shock on his face, learning the whole thing was a sham was satisfying in a way Isabella had yet to replicate. Not even the death of his brothers, Caius and Marcus, who stood in obsidian beside him, tasted as sweet. Then again, Isabella was not the one who put an end to their lives; she had Edward and his exceptional marksmanship to thank for that.

Taking over Volterra was a swift effort, easy in some ways. The people were so lost, so tired of fighting, that they were willing to welcome any change, including the broken former queen of their oldest enemy. It was easy to sway the people that Isabella was on their side, however, after she showed them her face. After she showed them all that Forks had taken from her. After she finally gave into her anger and created the fourth and final statue that stood all by its lonesome.

Jacob was her handsomest statue. He had died in his youth, after all, his face still smooth and unmarred. Even when Isabella had him beheaded as a prisoner of war after his failed attempt at invasion, he was unmarked by the battle. Part of her hated him more for it. How could he scar so many people and walk away without a scratch? He could not hurt her again, not when he was made of stone, his bones buried in some unmarked grave on the borderlands.

Isabella gave her former husband one last look before turning her back to him. She had long-since stopped feeling badly about his death, thinking that perhaps she should have been the better person and let him live. There were many decisions Isabella regretted making, but Jacob was not one of them.

There, at the very end of the hall, was a scene that touched Isabella's cold heart.

A small girl, just old enough to comprehend the morality of what she faced, stood with arms outstretched, reaching for the nearest heart. Her hair fell down her back in dark ringlets, her skin a smooth, unmarred pale, dark lashes fanning against cherry red cheeks. Edward knelt on the ground beside the girl, a patient smile on his face as he watched her struggle, her tip toes adding not quite enough height to get what she wanted.

"Now, now my love," Edward chided gently, reaching out to still the girl's grasping hand. "Careful. No need to disturb the dead."

The little girl let out the most adorable pout, eyes sparkling with intent to goad Edward into doing her bidding. "But Papa, you promised to show me a heart!"

Thankfully, Edward was immune to such charms, shaking his head. "And shown you I have. Now come, before you mother catches us - "

"Too late."

Isabella stepped from the shadows, approaching the two slowly, head held high and disdain in her eye. She would play the stern part, of course. She had to make herself formidable in this place, had to make the tales of the Queen of Hearts real, for her daughter's sake. Edward caught on quickly, stifling a smirk of his own, green eyes shifting to the little girl at his side.

"Mama!" the girl cried as she saw Isabella, darting from Edward's side to barrel into Isabella's waist. She wrapped small arms around Isabella, holding on tight, oblivious to whatever danger the Queen of Hearts could pose. Isabella was a danger to everyone, this much was true - everyone, except her daughter, her light, her love.

Isabella reached down and scooped her daughter up in her arms, the little girl laughing as she was brought eye level with her mother. Small hands stroked Isabella's cheeks, the one of flesh and the one covered by glass. Her daughter had never questioned why Isabella was this way, never had the urge to pull at the masks Isabella wore on a daily basis, but Isabella knew the time was coming soon. The little girl grew more and more curious by the day, her appearance in this place a sign. It was only a matter of time before Isabella had to sit her daughter down and break open old wounds.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Isabella asked, brow arched though she had a good idea of what was going on.

"We wanted to see the hearts! It was all Papa's idea!"

"Do not blame this on me," Edward chided, a smile still on his lips as he approached them. One hand reached out to pet down the little girl's curls, but his eyes were on Isabella. "Seems our daughter has a sudden, insatiable curiosity for history. Our history."

"Oh, but that is not a story for children," Isabella sighed and shook her head, much to her daughter's disappointment.

"But Mama - "

"No buts, Renesmee," Isabella cut her daughter's pouting off before it could transform into a full blown tantrum. "When you are older, we promise."

"I am older now. Today is my birthday!" Renesmee whined, pouting out her bottom lip, frown lines furrowing into her youthful face.

Yes, it was Renesmee's birthday, a monumental celebration to be held throughout Volterra. Before Renesmee's birth, there was little that Volterra had to celebrate; now, her people lauded their princess' birthday with fanfare and jubilation, people drawing from far and wide to participate in the festivities. Isabella was glad that this was the Volterra her daughter would get to know and grow up in, not the war-torn wasteland Isabella had first stumbled upon.

Isabella was also grateful that her daughter would never have to know the gilded cage of life in Forks. Even if Isabella had broken that cage beyond repair, she made a vow to herself that Renesmee would marry for love, on her own terms and no one else's. But there were many years to worry about that - decades, if Edward had his wish. For now, Renesmee could enjoy being young and carefree.

"And what a strong five years you have had," Edward agreed, soothing his daughter. "Now, what if we go and do something even more fun than looking at hearts."

"What is more fun than that?" Renesmee asked, curious brown eyes searching Edward's for answers.

"I hear that the kitchen is making your favorite dessert tonight," Edward said mischievously, green eyes flashing with temptation. "Why do we not pay them an early visit, see if we can sneak our fingers into the batter before anyone notices, hmmm?"

Renesmee squirmed out of Isabella's arms, landing feet-first onto the ground and taking off towards the door in a flurry of excitement. Isabella and Edward both laughed to themselves. Of course their daughter would have inherited Isabella's sweet tooth.

"Catch me Papa!" Renesmee shrieked, bending round the corner out of sight. They could both still hear her, however, her giggles bouncing off the floors and the walls.

Edward shook his head. "I believe we have created a monster."

"The most perfect, adorable little monster," Isabella agreed, leaning forward into Edward's embrace.

Edward laughed under his breath and leaned down to capture Isabella's lips in a kiss.

"I love you, My Queen," he said as they pulled away, nothing but adoration in those beautiful green eyes.

"And I love you, My Executioner."

Edward smiled and took Isabella's hand in his own, placing a kiss to her knuckles but leaving their fingers entwined. "Come now, let us go catch a monster before she terrorizes anyone else."

Isabella could have said something along the lines of 'you have already caught one'. Her face alone would be enough to earn her that label, her actions over the past few years only furthering it. But even at her lowest, burnt and bleeding in the middle of a ballroom with a chandelier sticking through someone's gut, Edward had never judged her. He never once thought her a monster, because he had done monstrous things as well, and who was he to judge? They were kindred spirits, the two of them, drawn together by more than just duty and mission. Together they had defied the odds and reshaped Volterra into a prospering, blooming thing. They had created a daughter with a smile like sunshine and a laugh like tinkling bells. What kind of monsters could do that?

Isabella heart beat in time to Edward's as they went forward into the next adventure, never letting go.