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Note: Uh…it's been two years. The sad thing is, this has been written for a long time, and lost within the bowels of my computer. Yes, I suck. :D But hey, better late than never, right?

- -

Kalasin is sitting in the gardens two weeks later, when the first messenger hawk finds her.

For a few moments, she tries in vain to bat the persistent large golden bird away, a little confused as to why it's beleaguering her while she's trying to read. Then, the former empress catches sight of the thin parchment scroll tied to its leg, and she actually drops her books and squeaks, completely amazed.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she unties the letter from the hawk's leg. She gives the deserted gardens a furtive glance, making sure that nobody else is anywhere near her.

She kneels on the soft grass beneath the bench, and spreads the crumpled letter on the hard surface.

Just seeing his handwriting—elegant, a tiny bit shaky from lack of practice, the ink dried and flaking in some places, is enough to make her almost want to collapse in a helpless puddle of glee. The letter tells her everything she needs to know. Ozorne is alive, whole, human again, and, amazingly enough, hidden in the capital.

There is a merchant ship leaving for Sarain in a week's time. Their ship. He says he will be waiting for her there, and all she needs to do is leave the Imperial Palace and make it to the harbor undetected. Kalasin reads and rereads the letter over and over again, until she's memorized every word of it, including Ozorne's trademark closing to all of his letters to her, from as long back as she can remember. Always three or four words or closings scratched out, and finally Regards, Ozorne finishing it out.

She folds the letter into a tiny square in the middle of her palm; then, closes her eyes and concentrates for a moment, and then the letter is reduced into a tiny pile of ash in her hand. A breeze blows, carrying the ash away with it.

- -

It's either very late at night or very early in the morning when Kalasin slips on her black cloak and casts a last, almost regretful look at the rooms around her. There are memories in every corner of these rooms, so many that they almost strangled her when Ozorne disappeared. So many that they're causing her pain now.

She leaves quietly, shutting the door on the past five years of her life.

The Imperial Palace is deserted at this hour, something she's quite thankful for.

She runs into someone at the doors. "Kaddar," she says, not quite surprised to see him here.

The Emperor gazes at her for a moment, and smiles a little bitterly. "I knew you would."

"Can you blame me?" she replies.

"Where are you going, at least?"

Hesitating, she looks into his eyes. "Can I trust you?"

"You've always been able to."

"Sarain." In response to his surprise, she smirks a little. "My mother was born there. Shakith has guaranteed us a life of peace, freedom, and anonymity."

"Us." It is a statement, not a question. It's only confirmation of the barest whispers of rumors he's heard for the past month.

The former Empress meets his stare unflinchingly. "Ozorne and I."

Kaddar doesn't look like he knows whether to be glad for his friend, or curse bitterly.

"Don't worry. I…I don't think Carthak will hear from us again."

"It's better that way. And…thank you."

"For what?"

Kaddar places one hand on her head gently. "May all the gods bless you, Kalasin Tasikhe. I wish you and all your family a long and healthy life."

Kalasin blinks away sudden tears. "Thank you, Kaddar."

His hand moves from her head to her cheek. "Should you leave?"

She steps away from him, so that she's half out the door already. "Kaddar? Find a beautiful woman, and marry her, but make sure she's at least as remarkable as I am."

Kaddar smiles at her, and bows deeply as she leaves, and that's the last she will ever see of him.

- -

Their house in Sarain is small, but beautiful. It isn't the Imperial Palace, but it has rooms and a kitchen full of light. The gardens are surprisingly large, and a huge, mature cherry tree is the centerpiece. When Kalasin sees it for the first time, it is laden with sweet-smelling pink blossoms.

Strange-looking birds nest in its branches, and she thinks, amused, that Ozorne might not have said good-bye to his precious pets for good.

Ozorne waits for her near the front, and when she's finished inspecting the house, she comes back out to greet him. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright, and she's smiling as brightly as he's ever seen her. "Do you like it?" he asks awkwardly.

Her response is to fling herself into his arms and give him a very grateful kiss. "I love it. And yes," she whispers into his ear. "It's worth it. Every little bit of it."

- -

Kalasin has that look in her eyes again, and Ozorne knows that yet another one of their increasingly frequent battles looms ahead.

"I'm not asking for a lot—"

"Too much for my liking, either way—"

"Honestly!" she exclaims, stamping her foot. "I'm not asking for tons and tons of babies—I just want two or three!"

Ozorne glares at her. "Do you have any idea of the problems children cause? Yes, they're sweet and innocent babies, but what are you going to do when they're all grown up?"

Kalasin sighs. "For Mithros' sake, you aren't going to have to worry about any son deciding he wants your throne and poisoning you in your sleep, here."

"You never know."

Kalasin gives him an imploring look. "Please? I promise that none of our children will try and kill or otherwise harm us."

He scowls, and they glare at each other for a few long moments. "Fine."

She's taken by surprise. "…What?"

"I want daughters. Only daughters."

Kalasin blinks a few times. In all her life, she's never heard of a man who wanted daughters. "I'll, um, try my best?"

She tilts her head slightly, and inhales the scent of slightly burnt chicken. Squeaking in dismay, she rushes out of the bedroom, leaving Ozorne standing by the window. His fingers clench, almost convulsively, around the curtain's fabric, burning tiny holes into it.

He sees the milky-eyed goddess in his mind's eye, and remembers the terms of their agreement—again. Ozorne sighs heavily, and hopes, against all reason, that Shakith will forget—

"Ozorne! Dinner's ready!"

The former emperor leaves, and as he greets Kalasin with a quick kiss, he hopes that he's not making a mistake that both of them will regret.

- -

Ozorne finds her out in the gardens, again. She's on her knees, gazing up at the bare cherry tree, with Suri in her arms. He walks out to join her, knowing that he won't get her inside the house for a while. As soon as he wraps an arm around Kalasin's shoulders, holding her close to keep her warm, his daughter senses his presence, and gurgles happily.

"Why?" she asks him bleakly. Her eyes are red and swollen. "Why was she born like this? And why didn't you just tell me, damn it?"

Ozorne is startled to hear her curse. "It's the price to pay for bargaining with gods."

Kalasin closes her eyes. "You never told me there was any price to pay. You told me it was a favor that Shakith had done you. Repaying old debts, or something of the sort."

"Kalasin, it couldn't have been helped, either way—"

"Our daughter's eyes the price to pay? You could have warned me," she whispers bitterly. "I thought she'd have your eyes. And she's so beautiful. I almost died when she opened her eyes and looked at me."

He says nothing.

"I just can't believe it." Kalasin wipes at her eyes with a corner of the sheet. "She's not going to be able to see us, not going to see the skies or the grass or the pink blossoms from the cherry tree—"

"Gods, Kalasin, I know." His voice comes out harsher than he had intended. "But she's not going to be a cripple. She's our daughter—blind or not, she will have a bright future."

Kalasin blinks hard. "I…yes." She is silent for a few moments. "I'll get used to it."

"She may be blind, but she can't be allowed to remain nameless for much longer." Ozorne touches the soft hair of the baby in Kalasin's arms. "Have you thought of anything?"

"Suri."

"Princess?"

She nods up at him, waiting for an answer.

Ozorne smiles a little. "It's very fitting."

- -

It's late spring, now, and he's in the gardens again, observing the various nests in the branches of their cherry tree. The birds here seem to thrive for the rest of the year, but he needs to observe this year's nesting, to see if this year's generation is going to be any different from the previous year's.

The peace is shattered by a sudden squeal, and something small tackles him from behind, wrapping her thin arms around his neck. "Papa!"

Not really surprised at the intrusion, Ozorne reaches around and pulls his daughter onto his lap. Her skirts are muddy, and she has flowers in her hair. She beams up at where she thinks his face is, and he bends, kissing her cheek gently. "Good morning."

"Morning," she echoes, clinging to his arm and listening intently to the chirps coming from above. "Birds?"

"Mm-hmm."

A few minutes later, Kalasin enters the gardens. Her skirts are equally muddy, and Ozorne wonders, absentmindedly, what the two women in his life do on their morning walks. She greets him with a kiss, and sits down next to them both. "Birds again?"

Suri nods, and Kalasin smiles. "Well, I suppose breakfast can wait."

Much later, Ozorne thinks that if this is their happily ever after, it is much better than all the books made it sound.

- -

After two years, this is it. It's over.

Kalasin and Ozorne? FTW. Thank you to everybody who's offered feedback and stuck with me, along the way. :)

…Never fear, I'll be back. Harder, better, faster, stronger, and two years older and a better writer, as anyone who's read my more recent works can testify. Expect some more works about Kally and Ozorne – I'm not sure when, but rereading this has helped me rediscover my love for their relationship. In the meantime, though, it may be easier to get a fix by checking out my other stuff involving them.