Three years later.

"Look there, she goes, isn't she dreamy," Cisco sighs, resting his chin on his palms as he watches Cindy out in the yard, throwing sticks for Houblon to fetch. They're only babysitting - dog-sitting - but the bull terrier is tireless and requires near constant attention. Amused by the scene, Cisco adds, "Look there, she goes, isn't she great."

"How many verses is that now?" Barry asks, turning the page of his book, wedged into a corner of the room he could never have fit in as a beast but finds oddly comforting as a man, knees pulled up to his chest.

"Two-hundred-and-seventy-three," Cisco says serenely, clearing his throat as he sings, "Look there, she goes, isn't she lovely."

"Look there, he goes, off to the clouds," Barry rejoins.

Sighing happily, Cisco says, "Cindy invented beauty."

"Did she now?" Barry asks without looking up.

"Kindness, too."

"Wit?"

"Of course. And charm."

"Extraordinary woman." Snapping his book shut, Barry pushes himself to his feet, stretching his arms over his head and grimacing. "Ah, my friend, I am not young enough to sit like a child."

"When did you ever act your age?" Cisco scoffs, and Barry thwacks him on the back of his shoulder with the book. With a twinkle in his eye, Cisco begins, "Such strong-"

"Don't-"

"Words," Cisco guffaws, laughing.

Barry sighs, shaking his head fondly as he walks away. "Au revoir, Cisco."

"Au revoir, mon ami flou!"

The prince canters into town astride a familiar white mare.

A few people greet him in passing - perfunctory bonjours that he returns - but no one makes much of a fuss about him. Dismounting, he leads Volo to the stalls and pays a boy to take care of her as he browses the market, filling a sack with foodstuffs.

At Cavell's stall, he lingers. "Magnifique," he tells the baker, snapping a fresh baguette in half and inhaling deeply. "Magnifique."

Clasping Barry's hand with both of his, Cavell bows. "I am so glad you think so," he says, and though he tries to foist it on Barry for free Barry pays him the due silver, smiling. "You are too kind."

"And you are a friend. I wish to see you prosper."

To the bookkeeper he ventures, trading an apple for a conversation. They barter as they talk: Eddie offers up Iris' favorite wine for a few of Barry's book recommendations. Paying the winery a visit, Barry makes it back to a small cottage in town well before dusk. Knocking on the door, he asks, "Iris?"

"Come in," she replies, and he invites himself inside. Poring over sheets of parchment on the floor, she looks up at him and brightens. "Oh, that smells lovely," she says, rising. Her blue-and-white dress suits her.

"What are you doing?" he asks, genuinely curious as he lets her take the bag.

She smiles sheepishly. "Promise not to laugh?"

He lifts both eyebrows. "I promise," he says. When she looks at him seriously, he adds sternly, "I swear on my life I will not laugh."

"I was working on a story," she explains, "for children. So that they, too, might love reading as much as I do. I'm not - I don't have the knack for fine literature, but I can tell simple stories-" She smiles up at him as he embraces her, asking, "What do you think?"

"I think you are the most remarkable woman in France," he replies, kissing her forehead. "And I am unworthy to call you my wife."

"I'm a woman with no title who married a prince," she reminds him, swaying in his arms. "Surely that qualifies me as unworthy."

Shaking his head, Barry says, "Princes do not deserve you."

"Is that why you ceded the crown?" Iris teases. "Were you frightened I might not marry you if you were still royal?"

Barry lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "When I was younger, all I wanted to be was a good king," Barry says. "My father was a great king. It was my life's purpose. But to even step into his shoes felt a tall order. I could never exceed him. And I never really wanted to be a good king; I wanted to be a good man. A good friend. A good father." Flushing, he adds, "Not that ... I didn't mean to imply I am unsatisfied with you and our situation - I don't need children to be happy."

Iris squeezes his waist. "All I need to be happy," she says, "is you." Leaning up on tiptoe to kiss him, she adds softly, "But I would not be opposed to a bigger family."

Unable to resist a smile, Barry hugs her. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She steps back and tugs on his shirt, and he follows her across the floor. "Do you regret it?"

Shaking his head, he admits, "I feel freer than I ever felt with all the money, all the power a man could ask for."

At the back door, Iris pauses to open it. They disappear down a little alley together, hand-in-hand, moving at a pace almost uncouth in its joy. She does a little twirl under his arm and Barry cannot stop smiling. "My mother is a wonderful queen," he tells her. "And the Ramons will make fine kings. Dante was born with a crown envisaged on his head." Smiling, he adds, "He will make the finest king France has ever seen."

She tugs him and he moves a little faster, nearly running. They cross the cobbles to the dirt path. Barry laughs and asks, "Where are we going?"

She doesn't respond, letting go and taking off, and he huffs and tears after her. She's surprisingly quick, even for the fleet-footed former king. Perhaps a quarter-mile away, she pauses and crests a hill, looking back at him invitingly. He joins her and sweeps her into his arms. "Captured," he announces, slightly out of breath and flushed with joy.

She holds onto his arms, intersected over her shoulders and across her chest. She rocks them back and forth, slowly, content. He savors the warm summer breeze and her presence. His heart beats very fast, and he is sure every one is for her. "I love you," he tells her again, head on her shoulder.

She lifts his squeezes one of his hands. "I love you, too."

Nuzzling her shoulder, he confesses, "My mother and father - at times, they seemed almost stupid in love. When he was a husband first and a king second. It was rare, but it was beautiful. I always wanted it." Smile pressed against her shoulder, he says, "I found it."

She reaches up to tangle a hand in his hair. "Flatterer," she muses, but there's only warmth in her voice. Letting go of him, she turns and says, "Your mother's approval certainly made the transition easier."

"Mother would support me nearly to the ends of the Earth," Barry says. "It's my father's reaction I cannot gauge."

Cocking her head at him, Iris asks, "What do you mean?"

"I cannot say if he would be disappointed or proud of me for surrendering the crown," he admits. It hurts a little, and she reaches up again to cradle the back of his neck. Resting his forehead against hers, he closes his eyes for a moment.

"I'm proud of you," she tells him, stroking his hair. "And I am certain he would be, too."

Barry finds tears in his eyes, clearing his throat as he pulls back. "Don't make me cry," he warns. "We're dining with your father tonight. It's undignified to arrive in tears."

She shakes her head fondly at him, releasing the back of his neck and teasing, "What place does dignity have in our lives?"

Barry grins. "Oh?" Letting go, he steps back, smiling wolfishly. "If that's the case..." Without another word, he takes off down the hill, out of sight of the village, his laughter just out of its reach as Iris tackles him at the base.

"Enough adventures for one lifetime?" Wally asks, scrubbing down the bar with a rag.

Jesse smiles, leaning against it. "Absolutely not," she says. "Witches and enchanted horses? Castles and terrifying Beasts? I hope it all never ends."

"The Good Doctor Wells might be able to help you," Hartley pipes in, toasting them with a mug. "He's off to the Arctic and is looking for enthusiastic young hands to join him, help with the science. Cold does strange things to people. Some say there are snow monsters up there, Yetis twice the size of a man."

"Those are stories," Wally retorts.

Hartley arches his eyebrows. "Would you ever have believed in men turning into Beasts and enchanted roses before you'd seen them?"

Jesse brightens. "Where is the Good Doctor?"

Hartley casts a thumb over his shoulder at a smiling, spectacled man sitting at a table, engaged in a spirited conversation with a younger man. "The man next to him is Prince Julian Albert. He likes to finance exciting projects. The Good Doctor's reputation gets around."

"Sounds thrilling," Jesse says. "Wally, we should-"

Wally shakes his head. "What if I become a Yeti?" he says. "And you a - a sled, or something."

Jesse laughs. "Oh, wouldn't that be something?" she muses, undeterred. "Come on. When else will you get the opportunity to be young?"

"And foolish? Often."

Undeterred, Jesse strides confidently over to the table and says simply, "I would like to accompany you to the arctic."

Prince Julian lifts his eyebrows at her, but Doctor Harrison Wells merely smiles. "Are you certain? The North is unkind."

"She is far unkinder," Wally assures, stepping up. She looks at him and he hastens to explain, "I meant only to say she is - fearsome, you know - very tough for a woman. A person." Flustered, he rubs a hand down his face. "I honestly can't believe I'm saying this, but - permit me to accompany you as well."

Wells nods once, and Prince Julian says slowly, "Surely, surely, you're joking. They're children."

"I'm twenty-four," Wally scoffs.

"Twenty-two," Jesse admits, curtseying.

Julian looks at Wells expectantly, but the bright look doesn't falter. Sighing, Julian says with only a hint of clearly forced regret, "Well, if this is ... how the die are cast, it would ... behoove our venture if I accompanied you." Then, brightening, he sits up straight and adds, "Father's going to kill me, but - well, I have the perfect gear."

Wells claps him on the shoulder. "I could not be happier to hear this," he admits. "And I promise you - science is my second love, and my comrades my first. I will call off the mission before any of you come to harm."

"Splendid," Jesse says, while Wally sighs. Looking over at Hartley, she asks, "Won't you come?"

Hartley shakes his head fervently. "I would rather muck the stalls than freeze my breeches off," he assures. "At least horses do not threaten to bite off my fingers as often as snow."

Jesse shrugs, undeterred, and pulls up a chair to the table. "My father owns this tavern," she adds, "financing the trip shouldn't be a problem. Persuading him to let me go will be more challenging, but he knows he cannot restrain me for long."

Wally pulls up a chair beside her, crowding Julian a little, but the prince merely accommodates him, a ferociously enthusiastic edge to his entire demeanor. "We will be conquerors," he says, pounding a fist on the table. "Adventurers. Explorers." Grinning, he adds, "Oh, this will be fun."

And, though it will be cold, and long, and at times harrowing, six months in the icebox in the North will only affirm Julian's prediction.

Dinner with Iris' father is always entertaining.

Mostly because Barry always says something that makes her father give him the patented Bartholomew look.

Tonight, it's: "So ... Wally's ... your adopted son?"

Iris nudges Barry's foot under the table, but it's too late. Clearing his throat, Joe plants his elbows on the table and asks carefully, "You do realize I punched the last man to broach the conversation."

"You're so fatherly to him," he amends. "I merely - wondered."

Shaking his head, Joe reaches up to rub his eyes. "Admittedly," he says slowly, "it has crossed my mind, these last three years." Eyebrows up, Iris stares at him. "I joined the army for nearly a decade. Francine - my wife - she knew what she was getting into, and she respected the potential difficulties of our relationship beautifully, even when I was gone for eight months or more." Clearing his throat, he adds with some difficulty, "Losing her was ... the single hardest thing I have ever endured."

"I'm very sorry," Barry says, and his sincerity relaxes some of the tension in Iris' father's shoulders.

"It was unexpected," he says. "A strain of plague swept town while I was gone for a year-long assignment. Most of the villagers were of kin who had survived the plague and were immune, but Francine was a transplant, and succumbed." He brushes his mouth and Iris reaches over to lay a sympathetic hand on his arm.

"You were six," he tells her. "And - Francine was pregnant when I left, but when I returned ... you were with a family friend, as our will declared, and I was told her baby was stillborn. The financial burden of raising two children is sometimes ... overwhelming, particularly for people of humble means. Orphanages were in fashion, and cheap." Shrugging a shoulder eloquently, he admits, "Paternity has crossed my mind."

Barry doesn't say anything, and even Iris cannot find words. "Father," she says at last, slow and almost disbelieving, "you do realize what an extraordinary coincidence it would be otherwise?"

"I have seen far more supernatural things," her father says, looking right at Barry. Barry deflects his gaze to the table, but her father's voice is exasperatedly fond as he adds, "I'm not mad at you." Barry dares to look up, and he repeats, "I'm not. I should be, as you have accused me of fathering a bastard orphan when I have done no such thing, but it has been three years. When you reach my age, that is simultaneously no time and a lifetime. I wish not to bear grudges for slights, and I further wish not to fight the truth, however improbable." Conclusively, he finishes, "I treat him as my son; what more would you ask?"

"Nothing," Barry assures. "Nothing more. You are an exemplary father." Taking a sip from his wine, he repeats softly, "You have raised a wonderful daughter."

Her father relaxes more fully. "She is," he agrees. "The most wonderful daughter a man could ask for." Looking right at Barry without blinking, he adds, "And you - you make a wonderful son-in-law."

Barry's eyes mist. He looks down at his plate, but despite the small smile, a tear still slips past his hold. "Dammit," he mutters halfheartedly, and her father laughs.

Iris smiles at them both, reaching an arm around Barry and giving his shoulders an affectionate squeeze.

From then on, dinner is warm and wonderful, shared at the small table in her father's humble home, with Houblon occasionally trampling over to shove Barry's chair hard enough he nearly falls out of it.

As far as she's concerned, Iris wouldn't have it any other way.

For their part, Caitlin and Ronnie spend a great deal of time with the Ramons at the castle, enjoying their parties as guests, offering their services when it comes to reconstructing the six-month-damaged castle. But they also strike out on their own, and it is in a slightly larger village that they lose themselves, never more than a day's ride from some family, never more than three days' from more distant friends.

On Iris' thirtieth birthday, they make the three-day trip to the castle to celebrate. Dante and Cisco harmonize Happy Birthday; Barry nearly drops the cake when Houblon leaps up for it, holding it higher out of reach; a firework display turns truly exciting when one of the rockets zips back inside through the castle door and explodes in the foyer, empty but for a rather traumatized Hartley standing on the balcony of the first level.

("What should we bring her?" Ronnie asked Caitlin, a week prior to the party. Caitlin smiled, taking him to the market instead of responding.)

And so it is that they present Iris with a watch on her birthday, as a reminder of something dark before and brilliant after, night-and-day.

Iris laughs, full and warm, and hugs Caitlin and then Ronnie.

Theirs is a friendship that endures forever.

Linda attends her chickens for a time, but when they finally pass away, she leaves town.

Few know what becomes of the woman with three silver foxes at her heel, but some say she is magic, healing the incurably sick, bringing rain to the desperately parched. Others might have her burned at the stake for her unworldly interference. A select group know the truth about the witch and the three Fates, and smile at the rumors of her work.

She doesn't ever truly cross paths with them again, but they know of her, and her prosperity brings them joy.

There comes a time when Barry and Iris enter the empty ballroom on opposite sides of the grand staircase, once again in royal blues and sunflower yellows, respectively.

Golden sunlight pours into the room. A pianist plays a gentle, familiar tune from his corner, and a quartet of the closest friends - Cisco, Cindy, Caitlin, and Ronnie - watch the couple meet each other. Barry holds out an arm, and Iris lays her on top of his.

As they descend the staircase, the beloved Queen Nora sings.

"Tale as old as time...

Tune as old as song.

Bittersweet and strange,

Finding you can change,

Learning you were wrong.

On the floor, Barry bows; Iris curtseys. Taking up her hand and resting a hand at her waist, Barry sways with her, smiling softly.

Resting her head against his chest, Iris lets him lead, and Nora's voice carries clarion clear across the hall, underscoring every step, every pulse, every unceasing breath.

Briefly, Iris doesn't need to look to see that his smile mirrors hers: bright and hopeful and full of love. Waltzing across the floor with him, she finds tears in her eyes, and nothing but joy in her heart.

Softly, Nora closes:

"Winter turns to spring.

Famine turns to feast.

Nature points the way,

Nothing left to say,

Beauty and the Beast."