A/N: Here it is folks, the end! I'm so glad that people have enjoyed the narrative and spent the time reading and reviewing, it means so much to me! It's really gotten me back into writing again, and I couldn't thank you all enough for that! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I hope you enjoy the last fluff-tastic section and I hope if I should write anything else, you all will continue to enjoy that too! I've really enjoyed, I hope you enjoyed, and let's get on with the last section!

Five years later.

It was spring and all of the draperies were down, as they were every year at the first sign of a comfortable day. His girls spent most of their days in the garden, or going back and forth to town (not without protection, of course), or even in the library, if the weather did not allow for outdoor activities – and he joined them, occasionally, particularly in the garden. They both looked so right surrounded by flowers.

It was unfortunate that it was raining as he sat in front of his spinning wheel. They were surely working diligently in the library – Belle's definition of a princess' education was perhaps not the one she had been granted, but she was giving the Dark Princess quite the education. When he looked up at the sounds of the main hall doors opening, he grinned.

The chestnut haired cherub rushed forward, something large hugged to her chest as her slipper-covered feet padded across the carpeting in the main hall. The golden eyed mischief maker squealed with delight, "Papa! It is tea time!"

She stopped short of the wheel, just barely, dropping the object in her arms – now revealed to be a book to throw her arms out to keep her balance. Rumpelstiltskin was up before she could topple over and swept her up into his arms, hauling the slender child up in the air, eliciting a squeal of joy – clumsy and always needing saving from the next fall, just like her mother, he thought and laughed at his darling girl. "What did you have there, Little Miss?"

Belle smiled at them as she entered, carrying the tray with three teacups on it, along with a plate of what appeared to be biscuits – and was that blackberry preserves?… to the table. "Mama's favorite book," she answered matter-of-factly, indicating with the anxious open-close of her fingers that she wanted to be down to retrieve it. Belle contentedly poured tea, and he regarded his Dark Queen with a deep, contented breath, placing the princess back on the ground to grab the book.

"And which book is that?" he asked, making a show of walking across the floor and performing a grand flourish of a bow before kissing his queen on the cheek. There was nothing desperate or depressing about this anymore, it is just a fact of their existence, and he slid his hands to the small swell of her stomach. Their darling girl would not grow up in isolation.

Belle rolled her eyes at him and swatted his hands away, their daughter giggling with delight. "I think you know it well, Papa," Belle cut in, wrinkling her freckle dusted nose, "Don't you think so, Heilyn?" they had laughed when they picked it; it meant cup bearer, and then nothing else seemed to fit.

"Oh yes!" she agreed emphatically, her blue dress – it complimented her so well – swishing around her never resting feet. She held up the well worn cover, and Rumpelstiltskin immediately recognized it.

"Is Mama filling your head with fairy stories, darling girl?" he asked with a bright laugh and crouched onto Heilyn's level, tilting his head to the side in such an exaggerated way that she erupted into a sea of giggles, throwing her arms around his neck and locking her hands tight. "Oh yes," she breathed with brightness that could only come from her.

He scooped her and the book into his arms, standing up straight and looking to the mother of such a blessed creature with a wicked smile before placing the book on the table and as carefully as possible tickling her exposed underarms. Heilyn howled and squirmed, Rumpelstiltskin held onto her for dear life. "Well, I assume that means I am to be reading this afternoon," he looked at her with a serious face.

She returned the face, matching his expression – she may have looked like Belle, but she certainly had the same flare for the dramatic that he possessed, if he did say so himself. "I like it best when you read," she answered honestly, looking over his shoulder at Belle. He sneaked a glance back and she pretended to be hurt, "Papa does the voices best!" Heilyn squirmed uncomfortably, she hated even pretend upsetting her mama, "but you read much prettier," she announced, trying to be democratic, and Belle grinned at her, apology clearly accepted.

"Come then," he balanced everything in his arms – far more graceful than Belle, a point of contention, and settled into the arm chair he preferred, Heilyn on one knee, his chipped cup on the opposite arm, and the book in his lap. Belle took her seat in her armchair, tea in one hand, knitting needles in the other, and he flipped to the first page of the story.

He did not need to look at the words as he recited the story of the young woman who gave up everything for the man she loved. He performed to his audience, voicing each of the characters, exploring the narrative he was so familiar with, and met Belle's eyes as he did so, a secret smile between them.

Their existence was not entirely peaceful. They fought; they fought enough for three lifetimes, though never in front of Heilyn, if they could help it. But it was a… partnership – as they were equals here (sometimes, she asserted she was the one who held the real power – and sometimes, he did not disagree), and in the Dark Castle, that was enough.

In this moment, with his daughter on his knee, a story as appropriate as this being played out for her amusement, with his voice carrying the narrative, and her shrill laughter and rapt attention focused on him, and Belle sitting across from them listening, he got lost in the story for a moment, and Heilyn's golden eyes until he realized, in the middle of the speech by the evil king all he heard was click-clack, ringing in his ears.

END