A/N: Well, that's it. My days of writing for RedQueen - and OUaT in general - are in all likelihood over. At least in terms of long stories like this. I highly doubt I ever return to this fandom other than little one shots. Stranger things have happened, though.

I sincerely hope everyone who stuck with me through the years enjoyed this send off. While it is not my personal favorite, it is in my view the best story in terms of quality I've ever published. A fitting ending I'd say.

To everyone who has left kudos and/or feedback on my RedQueen fics, I'd like to send out a giant thank you! Without you all, most of my material would probably still be rotting away on my hard drive. My labors were as much for y'all as for me. I'd also like to send one last shout out to my awesome beta, UnfairestOfThemAll, for putting up with my insanity. You made me a better writer, friend, and I am ever so grateful!

Well. I guess that's me signing off. Goodbye RedQueen and OUaT. You will forever live in my heart.

Standard Disclaimer: These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

Epilogue

Seven Years Later

"Neal!" Red bellows from the cozy cradle of Regina's lap. "Don't let your brother chew the stick! He's not a puppy."

Regina laughs heartily. Out in the distance, Neal and Emma are chasing after Henry, their youngest child, through an enormous meadow of knee high grass. Henry, now a toddler, squeals in delight as he totters along, stick in hand, playing a game of a keep away from the two older children.

"He's just trying to imitate his mama," she says, then nuzzles her nose against Red's cheek. She laughs again at Red's scandalized expression.

"Oh, Regina, you're so bad," Snow comments from where she is leaning into Charming's shoulder. She starts giggling uncontrollably when Red lunges to push her shoulder, nearly toppling her over onto the sprawling blanket they'd spread out to lunch on.

"Some might even say evil," adds Charming, grinning mischievously in Regina's direction.

As testament to her personal growth and their cooling distrust, Regina only spears him with a lighthearted glare that lacks all of her usual sting. "Best you remember that, shepherd, lest I put you out to pasture," she says, pointing the stalk of celery she's been nibbling on in his direction as if it were a magic wand.

"Or turn him into a sheep," Dorothy injects from her position reclined on her back with the back of her head laid on Ozma's lap.

Regina meets her friend's twinkling eyes and they share a devious grin as Aurora and Mulan snicker along. The glow of motherhood still clings to Mulan in spite of giving birth less than three weeks ago and sporting dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep due to nursing. Aurora is nearly as radiant, huddled close as she can get to her tiny but dangerous partner's right side. Meanwhile at Mulan's left, Phillip coos at the trio's newborn – a precious baby girl they named Valeria – about how funny it would be to hear Uncle David bleating instead of talking. Their eldest, the son so named after his father and paternal great-grandfather, is visiting his maternal grandfather or else he would probably be out in the meadow horsing around with the other kids. At an age in between Emma and Neal, the young Phillip is commonly found in their company. Often, being the most level-headed of them, he has to play buffer between the two headstrong crown heirs. Thankfully he has a knack for it seeing as he has three parents who each operate on an even keel. Phillip is the group's grounding rod of responsibility that keeps them from tearing the castle apart with their youthful hijinks, which is why Regina likes to spoil him rotten.

In response to Dorothy's jest, Charming holds his hands up, feigning terror. "Please, anything but that! I've been teaching Emma how to shear wool so she can help out a bit next spring. She's proven frightfully efficient. No doubt she'd have me under the clippers within minutes. And what would I look like when I turned back? No thank you, I like my hair and eyebrows just as they are."

The image of an eleven year old Princess Emma shaving her father in sheep form is undeniably hilarious. Filled with mirth, Regina turns her eyes back to the meadow. There, Emma is twirling around in a dance to the sounds of a song only she can hear, a gleefully cackling Henry balanced deftly on her hip. Neal is watching them fondly from the shade of a nearby tree, leaning against the trunk with his hands in his pockets and wearing a lopsided grin. No doubt if Snow saw the sight, she'd be making wedding plans.

Regina allows her mind to wander. Ever since Neal came home to Misthaven, he and Emma have been practically inseparable. Matchmaking hardly seems necessary from her perspective. Those two are as thick as thieves, and near enough in age that a union between them is almost a foregone conclusion unless their dynamic shifts dramatically in the coming years. She doesn't expect it to, though she's been wrong before.

As repugnant as it might have been once for her son, her pride and joy, to marry Snow's daughter, the thought is strangely appealing. Emma is a good girl and a nice balance of her parents' respective traits. She's respectful, strong, incredibly willful, and very independent, yet optimistic and hopeful and stubborn when it comes to never giving up on what she believes in. In a way, she almost reminds Regina of herself when much younger and still operating under the false impression that she had an actual stake in her own future. What's more, Emma adores Neal and the feeling is by every account mutual.

All of this in combination might explain why she doesn't bother chastising Red and Snow whenever they commiserate about their children's potential future nuptials when neither of the youngsters are remotely ready. Perhaps it can be considered when Emma turns twenty – assuming, that is, Neal hasn't fallen in love in the meantime. Some part of Regina, the part that doesn't still see Neal as forever requiring his mother's protection, actually wants the two to end up together. A union between them would make a nice full circle conclusion to the complicated, oft twisted, and – though fraught with tragedy – ultimately happy tale of their two families. It all got started with a marriage, after all...

It's almost sickening how sappy that is, but she cannot find it within herself to care anymore. Twelve years of relatively blissful matrimony with a hopeless romantic and adopting two amazing children has given her a new perspective on life that allows room for such sentimentality where none used to exist.

She can still remember the day they officially adopted Henry. An unexpectedly violent rash of flu swept through the kingdom, and the poor thing's parents perished in the outbreak. When he was found, he was severely malnourished, clinging to his dead mother's gown and suckling at a teat that had long dried up. Matron Vilenda oversaw his rehabilitation personally. It was through Vilenda that Red was introduced to the orphaned child.

Neal had been living with them for a little over four years by then and was settled nicely into the family, so Red naturally concluded it was the perfect time for them to add one more member. Regina was not so sure it was a good idea. She hadn't wanted to disturb the healthy environment they had developed for Neal and thought bringing another child into the mix, especially an infant, would upset their equilibrium. Neal did not agree. When they broached the topic with him one night over dinner, he was strangely enthusiastic about being an older brother. With no other excuses to fall back on, and outnumbered two to one, Regina folded like a cheap blanket. It was one of the best surrenders she ever made.

The first time she held Henry, she could not stop kissing his little face and gushing over how small and gorgeous and perfect he was. As if in response to her effusive show of affection, his tiny fingers wrapped around one of hers and he cooed up at her, his dark eyes transfixed by the strange woman who was holding him. Caught up in the moment, it was all she could do to keep from bawling her eyes out she was so ridiculously happy. Red did not help matters either as she stood with Neal, a blubbering mess of joy. Regina was even more pleased with herself that she did not squall like a teenage girl the way Red did when Neal finally got his turn to hold his baby brother. She did cry, though. Quite a lot, actually. She just did so in a dignified manner befitting her station.

That was just one of many occasions that Neal would inspire a fountain of adoration and pride to spring forth from her heart. Another source was how capably conducted himself in his role as Crown Prince. The nobles, as it turned out, had a modicum of good sense about them – that or healthy self-preservation – and did not fight her when she named him her heir upon his thirteenth birthday. As she had expected, Neal was not overly fond of the idea of having so much power thrust upon his shoulders, citing his estranged father's fall from grace. She had to remind him that he wasn't his father, just like she had to learn that she isn't her mother. It took some time and a little more convincing, but he eventually came to grips with his new position. Since then, he has only flourished.

Regina couldn't be more proud of him. After all he's been through, it would have been so easy to give up. But not her boy. No, Neal is a fighter and a survivor and possesses wisdom far beyond his youth, which made him a perfect candidate to rule over the kingdom whenever she and Red decide to retire to their conservatively palatial country estate. The only potential issue she can foresee arising is if the Dark One ever learns who Neal really is.

Not too long after his adoption and under the condition that it remain a fiercely guarded secret, Neal finally confided in his new parents as to his true identity – and that of his father. His real name, he told them, was Baelfire, and his father was once a poor, crippled spinner by the name of Rumplestiltskin. To say Regina had been shaken to the core by the disclosure is a gross understatement. For days, she fretted herself sick over Neal's safety, and Red's too, knowing full well how Rumple would react to discovering she had adopted his long lost son for whom he sold his soul to the most pernicious of curses to ever exist. Deal be damned, he would put her entire world to the torch, and then her, too, for daring to take his place in his estranged child's life. Not that he has one. He had lost any rights when he chose his power over his only child, and that's what Neal told her when she confessed to being afraid she would lose him.

Since their breakthrough in Oz, she and Neal have grown as close as any mother and son could hope to be. If he was the fruit of her own womb, she could not love him more. He is, in many ways, an extension of her being. When he hurts, she hurts. When he is happy, so is she. She shares his tears and experiences his joy and takes extreme pains to play an active role in his life in spite of the demands incumbent upon a ruler of a vast, prosperous realm. And he is so very much like her. Their moods often mirror one another and they share many of the same tastes in music, art, literature and food. Meanwhile, his appetite for learning rivals her own and his aptitude for politics is recognized by even the most experienced counselors. These days, he is as likely to accompany her to court as to spend leisure time cavorting with the other noble children. He is a mature, studious boy with a quick wit, and she counts it is one of her three greatest equilateral privileges to be his mother.

"I'm my mother's son," he likes to answer when asked why he's so well behaved for his age. And to her immense satisfaction, his smile is always directed at her.

Of course, he still adores Red. It's just that Red is more the entertaining parent whereas Regina is the responsible one and he's at that age that he's coming to appreciate what she has to offer versus Red's boundless energy and endless fun. The energy and fun do come in handy, though, when he is in a sporting or adventurous mood, which is quite often considering he is a sixteen year old boy just hitting his stride. They go on frequent hikes up and around the mountains ringing in the Dark Palace and practice archery together every afternoon at three o'clock on the dot. It was Red that gave Neal his first sip of beer when he was thirteen, though Regina was not nearly as impressed by that decision as their son was, and successfully lobbied for him to be allowed a pint or a glass of wine for dinner when he turned sixteen. He loves her a lot for that. It is also no surprise that he most often turns to his more sensitive mother when he needs advice on personal matters.

Of all the lessons Regina has learned about parenting, the hardest to absorb was that it is a team effort. On their own, they have deficiencies that might rob their children of necessary ingredients to becoming a successful, well-adjusted adult. But together they are able to offset those shortcomings. She doesn't have to do it all alone because Red is there to help and that principle is reciprocal. Together, they offer their children a solid, unshakable foundation comprised of love and trust and devotion that has been battle tested and tried by the blazing fires of crisis after crisis. Working as one, they can offer a better childhood than they were provided and help their babies secure a future that isn't quite so characterized by pain and loss and tragedy. Thus far, she thinks they are doing an admirable job, though she will admit to being biased.

"What are you thinking right now?" Ozma asks, breaking the spell that had fallen over Regina. The fairy queen of Oz is hypnotically brushing her fingers through Dorothy's long chestnut tresses while her spouse drifts in and out of a lazy summer afternoon nap.

Red, too, has surrendered to the pull of drowsiness brought on by a full belly and a heart brimming with love for her weird and wonderful extended family. As for Aurora, Mulan, and Phillip, they have joined Snow and Charming who are walking hand-in-hand alongside the children on a leisurely stroll through the meadow. Neal is currently sandwiched between Charming and Mulan discussing something intriguing – judging by the look on his face, Regina surmises the topic is probably the upcoming Tournament of Knights – while Henry is perched on his godmother's left hip, grabbing at Emma's hair as the princess skips at her mother's side.

Feeling so content she cannot help but release a drawn out sigh, Regina gazes at her faerie friend over Red's curtain of thick chocolate curls. "Just that I'm so happy I can scarcely believe this is real and not a splendid dream I'm going to eventually wake up from."

Ozma gives her a commiserating nod. "I know what you mean. If you'd told me seven years ago I'd be spending almost as much time on another world as I do my own and that I'd be surrounded by more family than I could have ever wished for, I'd have said you were mad. Yet, here I am."

"Here we are," Regina amends amiably. "I, at least, with more than I deserve, and both of us the better for the angels providence has so graciously blessed us with our lives. And to think, it all started because my wife ate an apple. The Fates truly do work in mysterious ways."

As if a cosmic exclamation point, a comet shoots across the sky, so bright that it's visible even in the afternoon daylight. Regina stares at the celestial sign in awe.

"For both our sakes, I'm glad they do," Ozma says, following the shooting star with equal wonderment.

"Me, too, my friend," Regina says, and holds on to Red just a little bit tighter. "Me, too."

And that is how one green apple changed not one world but two, not one kingdom but three, and not one life but countless. Inspired by love, two women defied the odds and the traditions of a society not fit to translate into the hopeful future they were determined to build and then went on to raise their children into princes and princesses and rulers in their own right whose wisdom and strength was renowned the world over.

When all was said and done, Regina and Red loved each other until the very end, and even beyond this mortal coil according to the belief of some who were there when Queen Ozma of Oz passed away. On her deathbed, she declared herself on the way to at last join her beloved and their friends in the afterlife. Many proclaimed Ozma's words to be products of her feverish mind as she languished, mostly delirious, through her final days.

But those closest to her say that her eyes were crystal clear and her voice calm as the still sea when she spoke. And they will insist that they felt the presence of spirits among them when Ozma at last departed from the land of the living to whatever lies beyond, that she stretched out her aged hand, palm up and then curled it around the empty air only for her skin to begin glowing with magic. As the awestruck bystanders looked on, a translucent hand appeared, bathed in sparkling amber as it held fast to the dying Queen's. When Ozma expired, they said, a burst of blinding light erupted from her body, and the handful of people present – namely her daughter, Imogen, and her grandchildren and her most trusted servants – were no longer alone. Illuminated by the tremendous release of energy, the unmistakable figures of one man and three women were plainly visible in addition to the one holding Ozma's hand. All were joyful, in the flower of their youth, and – along with Ozma's recently departed spirit – restored to a former state of glory. Just as quickly as the figures appeared, they faded, leaving all in wonder, comforted that their Queen, their progenitor, was in a better place.

In time, that tale faded from popularity, but on nights when the moon shines brightly over the Sacred Grove of Ozma, born anew each generation of the fruit of her loins, it is said of the Honor Guard patrolling it day and night that voices can be heard inside the walls. Voices of laughter and merriment, of friendship and sweet words of devotion between lovers. The gaiety produced within the Grove on such nights is purported to be capable of lifting even the lowliest spirit among the isolated outpost, and it lingers for months afterward in them so that the position became the most coveted among soldiers in all of Oz.

Those few who have witnessed the event say that it is the founding members of the Grand Triune Alliance who congregate there, that names can be heard among the dancing and singing and spirited conversation, clear as a bell on a warm windless day. It is, they will swear under most solemn oath, Queen Ozma and her beloved champion Dorothy Gale, Queen Snow the Faithful and her noble-hearted King David. As they were in life, foremost among this class of celestial royalty are the Savior of Oz, Regina, and her Queen of peerless beauty, the Lady Red. Their spirits, some say, are drawn back to manifest in the mortal plane by the mystical powers of the moon, by the life force of Ozma that lives on in perpetuity within the Grove, and by the eternal bond they forged together over three decades of friendship.

And who is to say that they are wrong? Stranger things have happened. After all, it only took one green apple to change the world forever.

The End