Prince Alan Stuart had sailed through the last thirty-five years of his life with the winds of various sorts of fortune at his back. Though he had once thought himself hideous and useless, and feared that he was one of the most unfortunate men to have ever been born, the last fifteen years of his life had brightened his view to a considerable degree. For once he and his beloved Katarina had decided to wed each other and to create a National Theatre that would bring them purpose and freedom, he considered himself as blessed a man that had ever lived. And after the theatre that he and his wife started gained the blessing of the royal family, produced new operettas and musicals every season, and took off in popularity, every day became an adventure that they tackled with excitement, interest, and attention.

Yet though Alan's life now contained more joy than he had ever foreseen at the tender age of eighteen, it certainly was not perfect either. And even as he looked at the face of one of his greatest sources of joy – and stress – Alan had to smile at the strange ordeals that fate had been treating him to as of late.

"I don't understand," young Rosamund sulkily said, "why on earth we cannot eliminate each and every rat we come across with my flames! We could even sell the carcasses at the concession stand afterwards. It shall be double the fun and double the profit!"

"My dear girl," Alan dryly said to his twelve-year old daughter, even as he saw his beloved wife heave a heart-felt sigh at those words, "while I admire your fiery spirit, your actions may douse our theatre in a sea of flames. Not to mention how many people we might accidentally poison with rat canapes afterwards."

"In all fairness," fourteen-year old William said in counterpoint, "Rosamund does tend to fry her victims very well so there probably wouldn't be too much residual poison left over. And anyway, would servings of flame-broiled rat be that much worse than what mother thinks is suitable to serve to customers?"

"Young man!" Katarina bellowed, even as both of their children started giggling. "I put you in this world and I can take you out of it if you jest about my concession stand often enough! What on earth is wrong with the food that I have our theatre chef serve?!"

Perhaps wisely, both of Alan and Katarina's children remained silent at that, even though they shot knowing looks at each other – for who else but Katarina would hire Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler to create snacks for theatre goers? But though Alan had to concede they had a point – Cut-Me-Own Throat Dibbler's snacks were so unorthodox that people often bought his food less for the sake of consumption and more to have souvenirs that would not go stale for years – he knew he had to step in before their actual topic was lost.

"Leading aside the whims of our theatre chef," Alan said dryly, "we still need to solve our greatest problem – namely, how to deal with the rats have been infesting our theatre. After all, we can hardly hold rehearsals for The Fourth Prince and I if our sensitive actors keep screaming and leaping into each other's arms every time they so much as sense as squeak."

Rosamund grinned mischievously at that. "Father, that problem would be easily solved if only you let me test out the actors first to make sure they aren't the sort to get flustered easily."

"That would be a fine idea," Katarina dryly told her daughter, "if only your idea of 'testing' people's nerves did not leave them shell-shocked and fainting."

Rosamund just groaned and pressed her hand melodramatically to her heart. "Is it my fault a few gusts of flames aimed at a person's feet seems to startld them so much – even when I warn them it is to occur ahead of time? Oh, to be so misunderstood as a psychological visionary!"

"Or a terrifying dictator in the making," William muttered. "Little sister, I sometimes think you are a little too much like Uncle Jeord for anyone's good. All the implements and letters he sends about his exploits as a "diplomat" abroad may be influencing you unduly."

Alan rather agreed with that. Though he had managed to slowly form a caring relationship with his once-estranged twin brother over the last decade – aided both by Katarina's ability to ignore any sign of Jeord's existence as well as Jeord's role as a "roaming diplomat" who happened to be conveniently located wherever enemies of Sorcier's royal family were eliminated – he had… mixed feelings about Jeord's relationship with Alan's children. It had turned out that Jeord was not the marrying sort and once he had left Sorcier, he had became quite the 'bachelor' overseas. Though Jeord doted greatly on his nephew William and niece Rosamund – no surprise there, given that his twin's children were basically as close to him in blood as his own would be – his way of doting could be quite… odd.

Yet while Katarina and Alan often raised their eyebrows at some of Jeord's presents from overseas – which included a surprising number of razor-sharp blades and hexing magical implements, as well as letters detailing just how to use them against enemies – they were content to let him be their children's exotic and fascinating uncle overseas. And though both she and Alan were sometimes nervous at how deeply Rosamund idolized her fellow flame-wielder, Jeord did do as much as he could to boost her skill and pride in her magical abilities.

Anyway, it wasn't as though Jeord's way of doting on them was any less ferocious – or terrifying – than that of Alan's mother, now known as the Dowager Queen Rosamund. Indeed, he and Katarina often wondered whether the Dowager Queen – who was forever dropping by to see the productions unfurling before her eyes before absconding off with her delighted grandchildren – was marking the children for some strange form of "greatness" in the future.

Alan's mother did, after all, have a habit of arranging people's fates to her benefit – though her matchmaking of Alan and Katarina had certainly worked out in the long run.

And as Alan thought of his family, Katarina stepped in to tell their son: "Will, please don't interfere with your sister's relationship with her uncle. You know he means the best for her, though she does need to reign it in occasionally."

Then Katarina, while fondly running her fingers down her daughter's wavy silvery hair, added: "Also, Rosamund, we have talked about when it is and isn't permissible to use your lovely flames. And it certainly isn't permissible to do so against someone who is not attacking you."

Both of their children sighed, conceding the point, and thus, Alan seized the momentum to return the conversation back to where they needed to be.

"In any case," Alan said firmly, "we still need to decide how to deal with these rodent menaces. Our actors need to feel comfortable while they rehearse, our backstage staff need a comfortable and clean place in which to do their work, and patrons pay very good money to get box and front-row seats to our latest spectacle. And though giving Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler flame'd rat carcasses honestly might be a step up from his attempts at cuisine – sorry, Katarina, but I remain shocked anyone would buy anything from him at any point during the history of cuisine – we need to figure out how to get rid of these rats. So does anyone have a plan? One that hopefully will not lead to our theatre being ruined?"

And that was when William – their handsome, brown-haired, blue-eyed boy with all the determination of Alan's wife and the cunning of his mother – smiled.

"I may have just the plan," he proclaimed grandly, and smiled even more fiercely as his family all turned toward him eagerly to see what he had in mind.

"Well," Katarina said to Alan just three short days later, as William's cunning plan went into action. "At least we can take solace in the fact that we did not go with our sweet Rosamund's idea to basically burn our theatre down. Though…"

Here his wife paused to sigh as he put his arms around her as they watched a most interesting spectacle that culminated in what could only be described as a tsunami of rodents.

"I am not sure," Katarina wryly concluded, "if the rampaging and fire-breathing golems that our children co-created together are any better at pest control."

"Not to worry," Alan grandly promised his beloved even as he conjured the occasional burst of water to dampen an errant flame. "We do still have an excellent insurance policy, remember? If nothing else, I am quite sure mother will find some way to render William and Rosamund's antics as an insurance act of God. They are, after all, close enough to being that on account of being her grandchildren."

And even as Katarina dissolved into a fit of laughter, Alan gathered his beautiful wife to him and watched as his delightful children herded what appeared to be half the rats in Sorcier out of their Royal Theatre. And even as he did so, Alan felt the strangest sense of completion that was only partially due to realizing that his family would soon not have a rodent problem after all.

(Though they being who they were, no doubt they would find many more problems to substitute soon enough).

After all, Prince Alan Stuart had sailed through the first eighteen years of his life with nothing but the winds of misfortune at his back. Yet now, Alan Stuart, the foremost composer and luckiest man in Sorcier, thought of all his past years of pain and misery and self-loathing…

And felt as though they were dissolving away with the wave of rats his children were tossing out of their home.

For a moment though, Alan could almost find himself marveling at his good fortune.

After all, did he really deserve all the wonderful gifts his life had recently brought to him?

Would fate somehow find a way to take away the joy in his life now that he was so happy?

Was it truly safe to enjoy as much laughter and contentment as he did currently?

But before he could sink into his usual worries and anxieties, he felt his wonderful wife turn around and gently cup his face between her hands – before she leaned in to kiss him tenderly.

"Whatever you are thinking," she said softly, her voice vibrating through his bones even over the sound of scampering rodents and shrieking children, "I hope you know that I will always love you and be with you despite all that might occur. From the day I arrived at your side until the time in which we both die, I am going to love you absolutely and completely."

And so, just as she always did, Katarina found a way to once again set him free.

"My love," Alan said, bending over to kiss her with as much heartfelt gratitude as he had experienced on the day in which he had wed her. "May I always remember as much so that I never need fear anything."

It was true, too. With Katarina and their amazing children by his side, Alan would not allow himself to fear whatever fate had in store for him – and would not let old pain and misfortune keep him from enjoying the joys of the present either.

And so, taking his wife's hand in his own and running forward to help with the great Stuart Rodent Elimination Program, Alan let the past drift away like the phantom it now was and went back to life as it ought to be.

Author's Notes:

Much love to Palhinhaea, who co-wrote this chapter with me and gave it an appropriately beautiful ending. I honestly could not have written this story without her patient and endless support!

Also, thanks again to all the wonderful readers who loved this Alan and Katarina together. If anyone else is writing Alan and OG!Katarina fic, please link me! These two are a crazy under-rated couple!

Additionally, although he didn't cover himself with glory in this story, Jeord is really not an irredeemable mess in this world! A hot mess, yes, but not an irredeemable one! So once he gets battered by actual consequences for his insanely selfish actions and grows up a bit, he turns into a decent enough guy. He's not about to win any contests in empathy but he does love his family, managed to reconcile with his twin brother, dotes on his niece and nephew (who he basically treats like his own children), and basically compares every woman he meets to Katarina only to find them lacking. (Given his various attachment avoidance issues, he finds it far easier to love a woman when she's utterly lost to him than when she's available - and it doesn't help that she's in a very happy marriage that he can project himself onto without doing any actual hard work!) So he's living a very exciting and fairly happy life abroad... and who knows? Maybe he'll find a romantic partner who can handle his various adrenaline junkie issues eventually!

Dowager Queen Rosamund gave up her crown to Queen Selena once she finally nagged her boring-but-stable son Ian into taking over the throne. She delights in her grandchildren, spends a lot of time teaching little Rosamund to become an adept schemer who might become Queen (or at least a Duchess) herself someday, and is living her best life in her golden years!

And as for Alan and Katarina... they still have many beautiful years ahead of them to raise their children, continue growing their theatre, and grow old together. It's the ending they deserve!

Thanks again for reading!