Sorry for not being quite so prompt with this epilogue, but I had a BB story to finish, edit, ect, accompanied by a not very writing-friendly work schedule. At least it certainly feels like it's been forever since I posted the final chapter to the story. Anyway, here it finally is. This story is now completed. I still can't believe it. It was a blast writing this and thank you very much to all of you who've stuck with me.

The epilogue is mostly fluff. Not entirely, but mostly. It's also packed with information, so I recommend not just skimming through even if the pairing in here isn't entirely to your taste. I just really hope it all makes sense.

Epilogue

Stiles noticed the familiar bright blue car in his driveway as soon as he came round the bend. It practically gleamed in the late evening sun, the sort of shine that only came from either hours of tireless work or a carwash. In this case it had definitely been a carwash. He'd been expecting the visit, although not quite so soon. As he eased his dark green jeep into the space beside his visitor's car, he considered his workload for tomorrow, trying to decide out how easily he could take the day off.

The evening was nice, warmer than was usual for early May, with a breeze that was calming and refreshing. He knew where he'd find her, so didn't bother to call out as he entered his house, only craned his head towards the kitchen window to see the top of her red hair as she lounged on one of his patio chairs. Through the open back door, he also caught a glimpse of a half-empty wine bottle sitting inside his wine cooler (she'd given it to him ten years ago for Christmas after her first divorce, because she'd been annoyed that he didn't own one). She'd been here for a while then. Possibly.

She didn't acknowledge his arrival, though he had no doubt she'd heard him. He slid the deadbolt shut on the door and then ran upstairs to splash some water on his face and change out of his uniform. It was going to be a long night.

He didn't rush, but didn't waste time either as he threw on a pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt. He stopped in the kitchen and opened the fridge - he raised an eyebrow at the three unopened bottles of wine laying next to the two he'd already had in there – and dug out the cheeses he'd bought yesterday. He arranged them on a platter with a variety of crackers and then cut up a bowl of fruit. He highly doubted she'd eaten much of anything today and, while her alcohol tolerance was legendary in at least a dozen universities world-wide, he felt he should be discouraging her all-wine diet.

Finally, he picked up his food offerings and stepped out onto the patio. She was sitting with her knees primly crossed, wine glass in one hand as she leaned against the small iron and glass table with the other and stared into the distance. A second wine glass sat on the table across from her, filled with wine and covered in condensation.

"Hey," he said softly, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the evening. "Wasn't expecting you quite so soon. How're you doing?"

Lydia blinked and then looked up. "I was done officiating exams and I have minions to do my marking this term," she said, watching as he set the food onto the table. "They'll e-mail me the results. I can go over it and submit it to the university from here."

Stiles nodded and sat down, picking up the wine to take a sip. It was excellent, but then Lydia's wine selections always were. One thing her fay genes had given her was a more discerning palate and a taste for fine wines. He high-fived himself internally when Lydia picked up a cracker and carefully cut herself a piece of cheese to put on it – he'd been lucky that the delicatessen in town had had all her favourites. He popped a half-strawberry into his mouth and smiled.

"So... it's done then?" he asked casually.

Lydia nodded. "Yes. As of eleven oh seven yesterday morning I am single once again. Everything's signed, sealed and notarized by the appropriate authorities. I even let him keep the cottage."

He blinked. "Wow, you must've really been flooring it."

"How quaintly old-fashioned of you to call it that." She shrugged. "I had a mani-pedi, got my hair done and then drove all night."

"And one of these days you're going to realize you're not eighteen anymore."

A small smile graced Lydia's lips. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her eyes sparkling with mirth as she popped a piece of cheese into her mouth.

"And Aiden?"

"Staying with his father for a few weeks."

Stiles sighed. "Poor kid. That couldn't have been easy for him, watching you divorce again."

Lydia snorted. "No, me divorcing his father was hard on him. He practically had pom-poms for this one."

Stiles grinned. Yeah, Lydia's son had never really been a fan of his new step-father. Aiden had tolerated him for his mom's sake, but Stiles would get mile-long e-mails telling him all about what a dick her new husband was. And Stiles would reply with sympathetic words, feeling sad that his close friend was married to the man and tried desperately to bury the tiny part of him that owned its own set of miniature pom-poms. 'Cause really, he'd met the guy a bunch of times and never quite understood what Lydia saw in him. If nothing else, he'd hated Beacon Hills, hated coming to visit with Lydia.

Lydia topped up her glass and raised an eyebrow at Stiles' still half-full one. Sheepishly, Stiles took another drink. Lydia topped it up anyway, filling it nearly to the brim.

"So, are you staying for my dad's retirement party?" he asked her.

"Hmm... might as well, I suppose. Will it coincide with the one for the new sheriff or will that be a separate party?"

"Same weekend, separate party. I'm throwing dad's here at my house Friday night since he gives his keys over to the real estate agent on Monday and doesn't want to have to clean up after a party. Besides, by then most of his stuff will be at Sanuye's anyway. The party for the new sheriff will up at the Hale House on Sunday afternoon. I heard Derek say something about venison."

"Derek's organizing the party?"

"Uh, no, I think Derek's just organizing the venison. And probably using it as an excuse to be out of the house while his girlfriend and Scott's wife organize the party. Just wait 'till you see Scott: he's both adorably excited and absolutely terrified at taking over from my dad. Isaac probably won't be helping, seeing as he's conveniently busy writing exams and coaching lacrosse. And, actually, their team's pretty good this year; we should totally go catch a game while you're here."

"Because I don't get enough team sports working at a university."

"Yes, but this is Beacon Hills Lacrosse; that's its own special brand of team sport."

"Well, I don't know, no one's died on the lacrosse field in years."

"Seven years, five months to be precise."

Lydia looked up from where she was spreading some soft goat's cheese onto a cracker. "Seriously? Someone's actually counting?"

He popped a peach slice into his mouth and shrugged. "Isaac put up a counter in the locker room."

"Only in Beacon Hills," Lydia muttered, shaking her head. Stiles could tell she was amused.

"Don't you just love this place?"

Lydia actually looked thoughtful for a moment. "Not the place, no. I mean, sure, it'll always have nostalgic value being my childhood home, but I love the business of big cities. There's so many places to go, so many places to see, always some new hole-in-the-wall restaurant to discover. Also, while it's true that I have a lot of good memories here, some of the worst times of my life happened here too – not counting both my divorces."

Stiles blinked, the smile disappearing from his face. "Then why do you keep coming back?" He mentally cursed himself for how soft and vulnerable his voice sounded.

Lydia looked at him askance, her lips curling slightly at the corners. "It's not the place I keep coming back to."

"Oh."

Something warm spread out from his chest, infusing his limbs and his head with a light, fuzzy feeling. He took a large sip of his wine to keep the silly grin off his face. As a result he missed Lydia's thoughtful, calculating look.

"Stiles?"

"Hmmm?"

"Ask me to marry you."

For half a second, Stiles stopped breathing. Then he started choking, clamping a hand over his mouth so as not to spew wine all over the table. He set his wine glass down with less gentleness than he should have and pushed his chair away so that he could double over into a coughing fit, eyes watering as some of the wine managed to make its way up his nose.

"What did you say?" he finally managed to rasp out.

Lydia's face was carefully neutral, hiding both her nervousness and her amusement (though Stiles could read both in her bearing). "Ask me to marry you."

"Yeah, okay, that's what I thought- but why? I mean where is this- I mean... huh?"

Lydia sighed. "You still love me, don't you?"

Stiles fell silent. His heart was beating a million miles a second, the sound so loud in his head he could barely hear anything else. And usually, he heard everything. The solid foundation he'd built his entire life around had suddenly disappeared and he was floundering, trying to grasp onto reality but not knowing where it was. The only thing he understood in this surreal place he now found himself was the one truth that had never abandoned him.

"Yes," he heard himself answer as though in a dream.

Across from him, Lydia visibly relaxed. Then she smiled softly.

"B-but..." he rallied. "I can't leave Beacon Hills. And you... you're, like, destined to do amazing things. Hell, you already have done amazing things. I read your last paper – didn't understand any of it of course, but I read it and it sounded like it was probably brilliant. You can't do any of those amazing things from here. I-I won't ask you to stay. I could never ask you to stay. I-"

"I know."

The phrase took the wind out of his word-sail and Stiles' mouth closed with an audible click. He stared at her wide-eyed, trembling with something that could've been excitement and could've been fear. Lydia swallowed and took a deep breath. Then she carefully placed her empty wine glass back onto the table, folded her hands into her lap and then met his eyes with a determined gaze.

She was putting on a brave face, he realized, and part of him felt a little less jittery for realizing she was just as terrified as he was.

"Stiles," she said softly. "I knew what you were doing. I've always known. And part of me loved you all the more for it, that you wouldn't tie me down. No, you refused to. You've always seen all of me in a way no one else ever has and that's always been part intimidating and part comforting. I nearly killed you and you still stood by me. But you never said anything about your feelings for me and at first I found it incredibly frustrating until I realized why you weren't saying anything. And then I kept silent as well. Because you were right. I knew what I wanted in life, what I wanted to accomplish and if I'd stayed behind in Beacon Hills with you then I would've grown to resent it, resent you."

She paused and Stiles waited patiently for her to continue.

"But, as you so aptly put it, I'm not eighteen anymore. I'm older now, more patient. I have most of what I'd wanted, or at least am on the way to accomplishing my goals. Except one. I've tried and I know you have too even if you've never actually made it to the altar with anyone. Long distance relationships are tough, but we've been doing well so far. I have vacation so do you and... well, I've got a good prospect on a position at the University of California, although I won't know how that goes until a couple months from now."

She took a deep breath. "Stiles, I never told you this because I didn't want to make things even more difficult, but I do love you. I have for a long time. And I'm done with the cheep wine and tequila shots of my student days. Now I want to savour fine wine. If it means that things become a bit more complicated then I'm okay with that. Second best just isn't worth it anymore. So ask me to marry you."

Stiles swallowed nervously and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He opened his mouth and then closed it and took a deep breath. No, this wasn't how he wanted it to go.

He stood up and held out a hand to Lydia. Lydia blinked at it, but put her own into his and allowed him to pull her to his feet. He looked into her eyes. They were wide and slightly fearful: he'd changed the game on her, done something she hadn't expected. He smiled, because really, she should've totally expected this. He squeezed her hand, let her feel his sweaty palm, let her see his own fear, his own nerves.

Except, that while he was terrified of what he was about to do, he wasn't scared. Life had thrown so many curve-balls at them and monsters literal, figurative and imagined, but they'd overcome and defeated every single one. Together.

"I'm not going to kneel for this," he said quietly. "Because if we're going to face the future together, we'll do it standing side by side. When you need me at your back, I'll be there to protect you, knowing that when I'm unable to stand, you'll protect me. So, Lydia Martin, will you marry me?"

For a moment, Lydia looked speechless. Then her lips spread into a radiant smile. Stiles didn't need to look at her from the Spirit World to see her glow.

"Yes, of course I'll marry you, Stiles."

"Well you'd better, I mean this was your idea aft-"

Lydia pulled him into a kiss.

Stiles was shocked for all of a second, but this was Lydia and he was used to rolling with her punches. And he hadn't realized just how much he'd been starving for her lips, yearning for permission to touch, to taste, to feel. His mind spun in uneven, dizzying circles and then his thoughts stopped completely and all he could feel were the years of built-up, quiet, unacknowledged love both of them were pouring into the kiss.

He felt light-headed when they parted, his body vibrating with tiny tremors of excitement. Lydia looked equally stunned as she stared into his eyes, both of them panting heavily. Bright, happy smiles spread across their faces in unison.

Kik kik kik

Stiles laughed and then turned his head to look at the Cooper Hawk that had landed on a large branch of the maple tree in his yard.

"Hey, Stormageddon," he called. "Guess you get to be the first to know: I'm getting married! To Lydia! You remember Lydia, right?"

Lydia rolled her eyes at him, but gamely allowed him to pull her into a one-armed embrace as he turned her around to face the hawk. "I can't believe you named him that. I'm going to regret that Christmas gift forever, aren't I?"

"What do you mean? It's a great name. It's not my fault that Storm's kids have a tendency to hatch just after freakishly intense storms. It actually snowed when this guy was born!"

The thought of his feathery companion still brought a lump to his throat. He'd never actually seen a male Cooper Hawk in the area, yet Storm still managed to lay several nests of eggs. He built shelters around them for her to help protect them against predators and he then watched them learn to fly, watched as Storm taught them to hunt. And then they would leave the nest. Occasionally he'd spot one of them around the Preserve or out towards the Forest Man's territory – somehow, he always knew when the hawk was one of Storm's hatchlings – but they never flew close to the town. Until one day several years ago, Storm flew in with a companion: an immature hawk from her last brood, who for weeks never left Storm's side and seemed to watch everything Storm and Stiles did with sharp, curious eyes.

A month later Stiles found Storm laying cold and still at the base of her tree. He'd buried her body by the Nemeton, beneath the marker he, Scott and Derek had built in memory of the Beacon. Stormageddon had been with him ever since.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as he suddenly realized something. He turned to look at Lydia frantically. "What about Aiden? Oh my god, I can't believe I forgot about Aiden! Is he going to be alright with this? Should I call him and make sure it's okay that I'm marrying his mom; what if he starts to hate me?"

"Stiles." Lydia's look silenced him. "Aiden loves you. In fact, he likes you more than he likes most of his biological family. I practically had to bribe him to stay with his dad when I told him I was coming to Beacon Hills to visit you. He stood and watched over my shoulder as I booked him a flight for the day after he's done school for the summer."

Stiles grinned. "Guess I'll have to convert the guest room into a permanent room for him then."

Lydia chuckled. "He'll love that."

"Awesome. So... should we wait 'till tomorrow to tell anyone?"

"Of course. Private celebrations first. We can visit your father in the morning and then video Aiden in the afternoon when he's out of school. Everyone else... we'll message them."

"You realize Scott will go ballistic if I don't tell him in person?"

She sighed. "Fine, we can visit the Hale House too. Now can we get back to the private celebration part?"

"Oh absolutely," Stiles whispered as he leaned down to capture her lips in a tender kiss.

"You're absolutely sure about this?" Stiles asked again as they exited the jewelers, feeling giddy and excited, yet terrified that this was going to be the one time he failed to read Lydia correctly.

Lydia huffed in annoyance and whirled on him, folding her arms across her chest. "Stiles, since when do I silently just go along with something I don't like? Also, since when do you think I would just go along with something as important as an engagement ring?!"

"Er..."

She sighed. "Stiles, I don't think I ever told you, but I remember your mother. She was a wonderful, beautiful woman and I feel honoured that you think I'm worthy of wearing her old ring."

"You know, I hadn't actually intended it to be an engagement ring..."

"I know, but I like it. It feels... like I have her blessing. It's been a long time, but I think I can still feel her essence in this ring, the happiness she felt when she wore it. And I like that it isn't just a diamond. Plain diamonds are boring and besides rubies are a symbol of love and devotion - a few ancient cultures even believed they would change colour to warn their wearer of danger."

Stiles chuckled. "Definitely a plus if you're going to be spending more time around Beacon Hills."

"Exactly. It's too late anyway; the ring's being sized."

"Yeah, okay, fine. I mean, it's not like I don't love the thought of you wearing my mom's favourite ring."

"Then stop complaining about it."

"Then I will. Wanna go grab cappuccinos and cannoli?"

"New place?"

"Nope, still Mia Casa. Old Mrs. De Fiore retired three years ago and left it to her daughter, Angelica, who moved it up here last November. It's a bit bigger, more modern looking and Angelica's husband is a French pastry chef, so they've expanded their selection a bit, but the classics are still classic."

"Hmm... then I would love a cappuccino and cannoli."

Yesterday they'd ended up staying at home, cocooned in their little bubble of happiness and ordering Chinese food for dinner to go with the wine Stiles' fridge was still ridiculously full of. Their only contact with the outside world had been calling Aiden and telling him they were getting married. As per Lydia's prediction, the teen was ecstatic for them and made them swear they would absolutely not elope and get married without him there.

A shadow fell over them shortly after they'd sat down at a small patio table with their orders. Stiles had heard the footsteps and tell-tale tap of his wooden cane as the newcomer approached, but he'd learnt over the years that it was easier to allow people to let their presence be known at their own pace.

"So I hear congratulations are in order," said Chris Argent as he looked down at them.

Stiles exchanged looks with Lydia and groaned. "Seriously, how have you already heard? The only person who knew before this morning was Lydia's son."

Chris shrugged. "I stopped by the Hale House an hour ago and it was all they would talk about."

Stiles shook his head and got up to pull in a third chair for the older man. "And seriously, why are we still calling it the Hale House when there's only one Hale actually living there? I mean, yeah, it's Peter's home base too when he's not off globe-trotting and being an internet celebrity, but that only makes it one and a half Hales living at the house. And Derek's girlfriend isn't a Hale yet, so she doesn't count."

Chris chuckled. "I think you're working against too many years of tradition there."

"Besides, the McCall House just sounds tacky," said Lydia.

"So, when's the wedding?"

"Dude, we only got engaged, like, not even two days ago!"

Lydia ignored him. "We were thinking around July 16th. I called Allison and she said she's on assignment that won't be done before the tenth and Liwanu and his wife are expecting another child around the beginning of July, so the sixteenth sounds safe."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Liwanu and his wife are having another child? What is this, their fifth?"

"Fourth," Stiles corrected him. "And since Sanuye's their midwife we want to wait until after the baby's born."

"I am not having my wedding interrupted by a birth, not even if it's just paper signing at City Hall."

"Going on a honeymoon afterwards?"

Stiles frowned. He hadn't even thought about a honeymoon. If he was honest, he still hadn't entirely absorbed the information that he was actually marrying Lydia. After decades of knowing he could never have her, it felt like a dream to know she wanted him to be hers. He looked over to Lydia. She looked thoughtful, clearly having not given a honeymoon any thought either.

"Hmm... I've never been to South America," she said slowly.

Stiles grinned. "South America's beautiful." He blinked, his eyes widening. "Hey, did I ever tell you who I ran into when I was in Argentina back in February?"

Lydia shook her head. "No, you didn't."

He grinned. "Ethan. As in Ethan and Aiden."

Her eyes widened. "The twins? You ran into the twins?"

"Just the one of them, but yeah. Turns out that after leaving Beacon Hills they ran straight across the boarder to Mexico, decided they didn't really like Mexico much, then continued on to South America. They wandered around Brazil for a few years until they came across another wolf pack, except apparently the pack alpha was a vicious cruel bastard who made Ducalion look like a saint. And he really didn't like them, tried to chase them off. Except that, well, he hadn't had to actually fight anyone in years so he was just a bit rusty and Ethan and Aiden were young and really strong. Anyway, they took him down and took over the pack. Aiden's still there with a mate and a couple kids: twin girls apparently. Ethan moved to Argentina about eight years ago to live with his boyfriend. Who's a ridiculously talented jazz musician by the way."

Lydia smiled widely. "I'm so glad they managed okay."

Stiles smiled back. "Yeah, Ethan looked happy. And I met his pack, which was awesome. They're not rich or anything – not like the Hales were – but they're a fun bunch people, wolves, whatever. And they served the best food I had during the whole trip."

Chris chuckled and shook his head. "On that note, I'll leave you two to your date," he said as he stood up. "And congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Thanks, Chris."

An hour and several bags of groceries later, they were walking back towards Stiles' jeep. The sky above them had gotten darker and Stiles could feel moisture in the air, though it felt far off. Stiles was still surrounded by his fluffy haze of happiness and not even the most violent storm would've been able to dampen it. They'd just finished putting the groceries into the trunk when someone cleared their throat.

"Excuse me," said a polished male voice with an English accent.

Stiles and Lydia turned to the stranger. He was blond, looked like he was in his early to mid-twenties and wore a navy suit that was just the right shade to bring out colour of his bright blue eyes. His smile was easy and charming, the sort that was clearly used intentionally to charm things out of people, although it seemed genuine enough at the moment.

"Can we help you?" Stiles asked.

"I hope so," said the blond. "Are you Mister Stiles Stilinski by any chance?"

Stiles' eyebrows rose in surprise. He looked to Lydia, frowning slightly at the pensive look she was directing at the other man. "Uh, yeah, I am. And you are?"

The blond stuck his hand out. "My name is Arthur Pennbrooke and I'm a reporter for the London Times."

Stiles blinked, but reached out to shake Arthur Pennbrooke's hand. A jolt ran up his hand as he did so, but he masked his reaction. "It's good to meet you, Mister Pennbrooke," he said instead. "This is my fiance, Lydia Martin."

For once, Lydia was the one who couldn't hide her reaction. "Arthur!" she gasped, her eyes widening. "You're Merlin's Arthur!"

The blond froze at that. "Er, I wouldn't say I'm Merlin's exactly... Hang on, you know Merlin?"

"He visited here once a long time ago," Stiles heard himself say, even as he remembered Merlin's sudden departure...

Arthur sighed. "Oh course you know Merlin," Stiles heard him mutter. He sighed and looked back to Stiles. "Well, unfortunately Merlin didn't mention actually knowing you, however he was the one who pointed me in the direction of Beacon Hills. I assume you've heard of the rumors that have been making international headlines about the US and European governments being in possession of proof as to the existence of werewolves and other previously-thought mythical beings?"

Stiles' expression darkened. "Yes, I have."

Arthur nodded. "And you're also known as Shaman Pathwalker, the owner and moderator of The Nemeton, a site dedicated to the supernatural and the occult?"

"Hm, the website's mostly just a hobby: I'm a forest ranger first and foremost."

"Oh, of course."

"Why exactly are you here?" Lydia demanded.

"Most articles that have come out about the issue of werewolves and supernatural have been focused on old legends, myths or possible scientific explanations about how a shape-shifter could be physically possible. And others have been pointing out just how dangerous these beings could potentially be if they are indeed real and hiding among us. I want to write something different. I've been looking for evidence within the werewolf myths of a positive influence. Because surely something as powerful as a werewolf would made an excellent protector."

Stiles felt himself relaxing slightly. Because, yes, he had been watching events and speculation unfold and it had worried him. He and Chris were convinced remnants of the Argent and other hunter families were behind it. Allison's 'Nous Protégeons' movement had been steadily gaining popularity over the years, drastically cutting down the number of hunters who still followed the old ways that led to indiscriminate hunting. This was no doubt retaliation for that; getting the general public behind werewolf hunting would be a devastating blow against the peaceful cohabitation Allison and her group had been working towards.

Most people in Beacon Hills were scoffing at the whole thing, considering it ridiculous. Scott was grateful for that, especially with his youngest due to start school in September.

"A reporter, huh?" Stiles said softly, chuckling to himself as he looked to Arthur. "Saving the world with the pen instead of the sword?"

Arthur blinked and then smiled brightly. "Well, they do say the pen is the mightier of the two weapons."

"Unless it's trying to vivisect you."

"Yes, I suppose a sword might just have the advantage there." His eyes grew serious. "I've already had the... pleasure... of speaking to a few lovely local ladies on the matter and they told me some rather interesting stories about The Protectors of Beacon Hills. They also told me I should go visit a Hale House, but first I should speak to you. So now I-"

"Never want to see another muffin ever again?" Stiles guessed cheerfully.

Arthur snorted. "So it's not just me then."

"Oh no, they do that to everyone. Avoiding ensnarement by the Muffin Club is one of the first skills new recruits at the sheriff's office learn in this town."

"I see." Arthur shook his head in bemusement. "Would you have some time over the next few days to speak with me on the topic?"

Stiles considered him for a moment. This was a man who Merlin trusted, a man who was here because dark times were coming. During his darkest moments, Stiles sometimes considered just how bad things could get. What would the world look like if a war were to break out between humans and the supernatural? Maybe there was a way to prevent anyone from ever finding out.

"Do you know why my site's called the Nemeton?" he finally asked.

For a moment, Arthur looked uncertain. "A nemeton is a druid temple, usually centered around a tree or other such natural altar..."

"Yeah, but did Merlin tell you why the name's significant?"

"No."

Stiles nodded. "Meet me tomorrow at the entrance to the preserve and I'll take you to where it all began." He held out a hand. "I have a few people I need to talk to before I can tell you anything of any real significance, but that story is different and I think it's best told on location."

Arthur smiled. "Thank you, Mister Stilinski."

"It's Stiles. And I'll see you tomorrow morning at eight o'clock."

"Absolutely."

Stiles took a deep breath and closed his eyes as Arthur turned and walked away. He reached inside of himself, towards the Darkness and skirted its edges, holding onto it, but not letting himself be sucked in. Then he opened his eyes and looked to Arthur.

When he looked at a shifter he saw their dual nature, around a vampire he saw the dark shadow of ever-present hunger and he saw the glowing core in other Sparks and people with powers. As Arthur walked away Stiles saw a brilliant, golden crown gleaming from atop his head, the same bright colour as the dragon in the centre of the deep red cloak swishing against his boots.

A hand slipped into his and he looked to Lydia. She glowed from within, her fae heritage shining through every strand of hair, every delicate laugh line on her face. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. Oh, whatever, they'd worry about that tomorrow. He wasn't going to worry about anything until at least then.

THE END

In as much as any story ever really has an ending... And, before anyone asks, no I'm not planning a sequel.

The proposal scene was inspired by a scene in a story written by my friend LittleBounce in her Grimm fanfic series - which I highly recommend if there are any Grimm fans out there (so long as you're not completely allergic to OCs - well-written, well-presented OCs that really do add a lot of depth to the stories).

Thank you so much to everyone who's read/reviewed/favourited this story; I'm so happy it found an audience.