Hi, guys. Thank you so, so much for the reviews for last chapter, and for every chapter before that. It's both completely upsetting and increbibly relieving to say that this is the last update for this story. I just want to thank everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, or alerted this story in the past few months. You guys are all amazing, and I wish I could send you all a present. :)

Instead, I give you the epilogue to Sweet Complications, which is dedicated to all of you. Enjoy, and thanks.

Disclaimer: Libba Bray owns all of these. Isn't it nice of her to let me steal...er, borrow them?

Six years later

Dear Fee,

I'm glad to hear you're coming to visit, and that you and Nicole are well. Of course I'll come with you to see Ann's play; Kartik and I were already planning on attending, and it's been too long since the three of us were together. Please feel free to visit us here any time; you know you're always welcome.

To answer your other question, no, there has not been any trouble since you last wrote. Philon and Gorgon and Asha are keeping a close eye on things for me. We haven't had any visitors lately, nor have any stories reached our ears. The last time I visited the realms, everything was in order. My visions have been rather quiet lately, only a few scenes of the realms. Little skirmishes, mostly. Nothing to worry about.

Tell Nicole I said hello, and I hope to see you both soon.

Love, Gemma

I slip my letter into the envelope and seal it, leaning back in my armchair. Fee's letter sits next to my newly completed one. I smile at it, remembering my vivacious friend's enthusiastic description of her life in Paris with her partner, Nicole. Apparently, her trousers have begun to spread among the other women, much to Fee's delight, and to her parent's silent horror. Neither of them have been to see their only daughter, and Felicity hasn't gone to them since moving to Paris shortly after my wedding. She is quite content to stay in Paris, where she spends her days posing for artists (clothed, of course).

While Fee is making a splash in Paris, Ann is flourishing in her stage career here in London. After marrying Charlie nearly five years ago, the two of them have paired up in many plays, with him writing and her performing. I've never seen Ann so happy, so alive, and Charlie seems just as content with her as his wife. Their first child, a charming two-year-old girl named Macy, seems to have inherited her mother's thrilling voice, much to the delight of her parents. Ann hasn't heard from her cousins and would-be employers in years, and doesn't seem to care, either. She's got her dream life, and wouldn't have it any other way.

Both of my friends write constantly, and I often meet with Ann in her spare time. We all keep watchful eyes out for any signs of magic or creatures of the realms, but nothing amiss has happened since the incident with Haresh six years ago, aside from a few stray creatures venturing out in curiosity, but none of them have presented any problems. They all seem to have learned from the centaur and Neela's fatal mistakes.

A slightly blurry picture on the mantle nearby flashes in the fading light, catching my eye. It's a family photo, centered around Father, and Tom, and me, taken the last time we had visited Father in India. I rather despise it, but I leave it on display so Tom doesn't make a fuss. In it, Tom looks as smug as ever, his haughty eyes almost laughing at the camera. A woman stands next to him, smiling blandly. She is his wife, the lovely and rich Delia, whose money comes from who knows how many generations back. I suppose he could have done worse, but a plainer thinker would be hard to find.

My eyes drift to Father on Tom's other side. His suit hands loosely on him, as if he's lost quite a bit of weight since purchasing it, which I don't doubt he has. I had tried not to look at him too much throughout this trip, for the sight of the haunted, empty ghost of my father had made me want to cry. I am on Father's other side, smiling tightly and plainly wishing I was anywhere but there. Kartik stands on my right, his arm draped securely over my shoulder. No one seems truly happy in this photograph, although Tom and Delia are doing their best to appear so.

"Mama!" a young, high voice calls to me from the other room. "Mama, Kally won't go to bed!"

Two small shapes hurtle into the parlor and throw themselves at me. I sigh and bend so that I am eye-level with my two children. The oldest, Rikash, is the spitting image of his father, except for the flecks of green in his dark eyes and the lighter tone to his brown skin. His head full of curly black hair flops into his curious eyes. At five years old, his chin reaches the crook above my hip as he clings beseechingly to my skirts.

His sister, Kalasin, gazes pleadingly at me with eyes almost as green as my own. Her hair is reddish-brown, and her freckled skin the color of coffee. Two years younger than her brother, the top of her head falls quite short of my hips, though if she is at all like me or her brother, she will soon come to a growth spurt. She is a constant worry for me, and I wonder if it was the same for my mother, this waiting for her to reach the age when she will come into her powers. Already clad in a nightgown, little Kally bounces up and down with little girl vitality, sticking out her plump bottom lip.

Both children tug on my nightgown, Kally begging to stay up and visit her pony, Rikash saying he won't sleep until she does. I sigh again.

"Hush," I order gently, and they close their mouths. "Kally, I've told you a hundred times, your pony needs to sleep, and so do you. He's still going to be there in the morning. No arguments," I say, cutting off the sulky reply I know my daughter is preparing to make, "you can go to the stable tomorrow. Besides, you're already dressed for bed, and I've told you your bedtime story."

Kally nods sadly. I turn to my son.

"Rikash, if Kally can't stay up late, neither can you." Rikash pouts, and I shake my head. "That is final. Alright?"

"Yes, Mama," both Rikash and Kally chorus.

"Good. Give me a kiss, then." They brush their lips against my cheeks briefly. Kally yawns, and I choke back a laugh. "Goodnight, my dears. Now scamp."

Giggling, Kally chases Rikash, her thee-year-old legs pumping furiously to keep up with him. I straighten again, smiling, as they gallop through the halls and up the stair case. The sound of slamming doors echoing from upstairs, just as another figure appears in the doorway.

Kartik walks towards me, arms outstretched and smiling. I slip into his hold and kiss him, taking in his intoxicating scent with a contented sigh.

"Hello." He looks at me fondly. "Did Kally put up a fight again?"

"Of course. She wanted to go to the stables." Kartik laughs, and I smile at him. "She is definitely your daughter," I tell him, fingering his coat. "Never leaves those horses alone."

"Mmm…" Kartik murmurs, kissing me again. I feel his hands tracing the buttons of my dress.

"Let's go upstairs," I suggest, smiling coyly. Grasping my hand, he pulls me up the stairs, making as little noise as possible. I let my eyes wander over Kartik. Six years hasn't done much to age him. I can still see the striking features, heavy lashes, and curly hair of the boy I fell in love with. He's taller now, though, and his chest broader and well-muscled from working with horses. His personality hasn't changed much, either, as he's still the protective, sweet, brooding man I met years ago.

Kartik opens the door to our room and hold it for me. I walk past him, and hear the soft thud as he closes the door again. I turn to face my husband.

"Come here," he says, grasping my hands gently and guiding me to the bed. I let myself fall back first, smiling flirtatiously up at him as he stands beside me. Gently, slowly, he lowers himself onto the bed, lying parallel to me. He reaches across my chest, grasps my hand, and pulls me around to face him. I plant my lips on his, worming closer into his body. He cradles my neck with his hand tenderly, deepening our kiss. His other hand wraps around my waist, securing my body to his.

Breaking away from our embrace, Kartik nuzzles my neck sweetly. The hand that holds my face to his releases me, only to come to rest at my back. I let my fingers explore Kartik, tracing his jaw line, smoothing his shirt collar. His lips glide across the ivory skin visible over the plunging neckline of my nightgown. I reach up with my empty hand and free my curls from their pins, letting them drape across my shoulders. Kartik brushes them away with a gentle hand, and I settle my head on his chest, listening to his familiar and steady heartbeat.

"You would think," Kartik muses aloud through our contented silence, "that after six years, you would cease to have such an intoxicating effect on me."

I smile up at him. "I could say the same about you."

"Mmm…" Kartik hums, and the familiar, yet still thrilling, surge of desire sweeps through me. "I was lucky to have found you, Gem."

A soft chuckle escapes me. "'Found' isn't completely accurate."

We both fall silent, remembering our early relationship. Threats, danger, and the elusive Rakshana had been the base of our acquaintance, always shadowed by a deep, mysterious force that kept us wanting more of the other.

At the other end of the hallway, Rikash snores gently. I remember when he was born. I had screamed and cried, and Kartik had held my hand his terror plainly displayed in his wide eyes. Fee had been visiting form Paris, and she waited in another room with Ann, Tom, Father (who had return from India to meet his first grandchild), and Grandmama. When I finally held Rikash in my arms, I had cried all over again, this time from happiness. Kartik's eyes had been moist, too, as he gently pressed his soft lips to mine, whispering about how proud he was of me, then bent to kiss our son's head.

Parenthood had deepened my already powerful bond with Kartik, and two years later, baby Kalasin arrived, kicking and screaming. This time, Grandmama hadn't been there to welcome her second great-grandchild into the world; she had died of old age about a month before I had discovered I was pregnant. Father, too, was ill, but his doctor had allowed him a quick visit. But all sad thoughts had faded from my mind as I watched my husband cradle our newborn daughter and introduce her to Rikash before kissing me warmly.

Other random memories come to mind: watching Kartik teach our children how to ride their ponies, stolen trips into the realms, listening to Kally gibbering incoherently to her brother. In every memory, Kartik is present, always there, watching over me and our family. I sometimes think he could never completely forget the true purpose of the Rakshana: to protect their priestess. Nothing happens to me that Kartik doesn't know about, and his protective nature only brings me closer to him.

A gentle touch on my back brings me out of my daydream. Kartik smiles down at me.

"Sorry to bother you," he whispers, "but you looked distracted. Is something wrong?"

"No," I answer, smiling reassuringly. "I was only thinking."

"May I ask what you were thinking about?"

"As if you didn't know," I laugh, wrapping my arms around his waist. "I was thinking about you."

Smiling, Kartik dips his head slightly, and I let myself sink into his kiss. His lips, gentle and sweet, send sparks through my veins. I am enveloped in his wonderful scent, the alluring perfume that makes my head spin delightedly. All too soon, Kartik pulls away, though he stays close enough so that I can still feel his breath on my cheeks. I shake my head, not wanting to let him go and straining to kiss him again, but he just smiles at me.

"It's late, Gemma," he murmurs. "You are tired. Sleep."

"I am not— "A huge yawn cuts off the rest of my sentence. I scowl at Kartik's amused face. "Oh, alright, I'm tired." A smile lifts the corner of my lips, ruining my false anger. Kartik laughs quietly, and swiftly brushes his soft mouth against mine, then trails his lips over my haw to whisper in my ear.

"Good night, my gem. I love you."

I smile drowsily, already half asleep. "I love you, too."

Silence fills the room as Kartik's fingers trace the lines in my nightgown, one of his favorite pastimes. The familiar feeling quickly starts to lull me to sleep. Eyes already closed, a sleep thought enters my head.

"Kartik?"

"Hmm?"

I smile, eyes still shut. "Tomorrow, I'm not going to sleep so easily."

Kartik kisses my neck softly. "Then I won't ask you to."

Done. I just finished my first fanfic. I can't believe it, but it's true. Again, thanks for everyone who read this. It means a lot to me that you guys liked this story so much. Hugs, kisses, and chocolate to all of you.

In personal news, I'm thoroughly enjoying my vacation in my hometown. I got to hang out with LunaEquus (even though I know her as Catherine...) and see my horse friends. Yay. :)

Oh, and I hope at least one person notived how Gemma tells Kally bedtime stories. They're about the realms, obviously. So, in case someone asks, YES the kiddies know about the realms, BUT not that they're real. Yet. I figured Gemma would tell her kids, eventually.

Until next time, lovelies,
Brighteyes

P.S.- Don't expect this to be my last fic in the fandom. I've still got Fading Scars to finish, and a couple other fics in mind, though most of them will end up on the cutting room floor. I've also been toying with the idea of writing oneshots in the Sweet Comp. world, where Kartik is alive, like when Rikash and Kally were born, their first return trip to the realms, blah blah blah. So I promise, I will be seeing you guys soon. :)