AAAND we're done! This is officially the last chapter! I wish everyone a wonderful Epiphany, even those who don't celebrate it. That said, the twelve days...and this story...are finally at an end.

I'm going to take a moment to be a sycophant. I'd like to thank everyone that took the time to review this story: Linnea Skye, MrsCuddles, and zagara. In particular, I'd like to extend my gratitude to the latter two. MrsCuddles provided moral support for this project in its infancy, and took the time out of her busy schedule to offer ideas and even some reviews. Zagara was my first and only regular reviewer ever, whose beautiful comments gave me the incentive to keep this thing going. Thank you all so much!

Again, I wish everyone a happy Epiphany, and I thank you for reading this little piece of work. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own AKT.

The day's holy feast had come and gone, bringing a bittersweet contentment to those that partook of it as they celebrated the holiday's end. Songs had been sung, prayers had been chanted, and the season's greenery had been cut down and cast aside, forgotten until the next winter's spirits came round once more.

When all was said and done, scores of men, women, and children gathered in the southern apple groves, dancing before the trees as the wassail Kings and Queens led the processions to the hearts of the orchards.

"Wassail! wassail! all over the town, our toast it is white and our ale it is brown; our bowl it is made of the white maple tree; with the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee."

The Queens were lifted into the cracking boughs, and brought dripping toast, soaked in the warm wassail, out of their clay cups, hanging the bits on the branches as a gift to the spirits of the trees, in hopes of a prosperous harvest in the new year.

"Here's to thee, old apple-tree, whence thou mayst bud, and whence thou mayst blow, and whence thou mayst bear apples enow! Hats-full! Caps-full! Bushel, bushel sacks-full! And my pockets full, too! Hurrah!"

"Hurrah!"

And there you have it; a little of everything to close out the year.

The 'holy feast' is the Feast of the Epiphany, which celebrates the visit of the magi to Jesus (in the Western world), or the baptism of Christ in the Jordan River (in the Eastern world).

Wassailing is a tradition that dates back to the Middle Ages, involving singing and toasting the health of the apple trees in hopes of a good harvest; for more information, see Chapter 13. Each ceremony has the same basic structure. A wassail King and Queen will lead a procession in a song and dance, and the Queen will be lifted into the boughs, hanging wassail-soaked toast on the branches as a gift to the trees; the youngest boy can also perform this duty.

The song that the procession sings is from the medieval carol The Gloucestershire Wassail; the chant is...I don't know what it's from. :/

That's all from me...for good! Okay, that's not true. Still, I've enjoyed this road immensely, and I hope you have, too! Peace out!