(That's the end of Part 5, everyone. We'll be taking a break until 2/1. Thanks for reading.)

Epilogue of Beowulf: Happily Ever After

Dawn light peeked in through dusty windows. Its rays slinked across wrinkled sheets and rumpled blankets, trickled over bare skin and intertwined limbs. Beowulf was conscious of the warmth of that light before he was conscious of the light itself: his eyes blinked out of their drowsy half-sleep, to find Reis' face inches in front of him, cast in light and shadow. Her eyes were half-lidded, hiding their full amethyst glory.

"Finally wore you out?" he asked.

She chuckled: her laughter tickled his nose. "That's my line."

"Well, to be fair, I started out tired," Beowulf said. "Killed a dragon, and all."

"As someone who was a dragon, I think I have you beat."

"You've beaten me often enough."

She kissed the tip of his nose. "Want me to do it again?"

A lazy flicker of arousal, down in his aching pelvis. Beowulf smiled. "Always."

She kissed his nose again, and pulled him to her.

The sun was brighter when they finished, verging into proper morning light. She cradled him against her, his head resting comfortably in the crook of her neck, his aching body reclining in hers like a cat sunning itself.

"You're almost too tall for this," she murmured, stroking his hair.

"I was always too tall for this," Beowulf answered, and kissed the skin of her neck. He felt her shiver beneath his lips. "Never stopped me before."

Her arm tightened around him. "I missed you."

"I missed you," Beowulf answered, and pulled her close again, trying to lose himself in the warmth of her, in the absolute reality of her.

She lay against him now, her head in the crook of his neck, and Beowulf did not remember the last time he'd felt this alive, exhausted and electric all at once.

"We don't have to stay," Beowulf said.

Reis laughed again: her breath tickled his neck. "You don't want to live in the Royal Retreat?"

Beowulf considered it for a moment. "Royal squatters does have a nice ring to it..."

She laughed again. God, he'd missed her laugh, her voice, her.

"I meant..." Beowulf started. "You've...you've been through enough. We don't...have to go to some...new fight."

Her breathing changed. Beowulf turned towards her, and found her face had changed as well. Her violet eyes were open, and heavy as the sea.

"I'm still not used to you being taller than me," she muttered.

"Had to happen eventually," Beowulf replied. "And I might add, you have the option to get taller than me any time you want."

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. He wanted so badly to lean in, and kiss those lips again...but her eyes held him still.

"You can't do that," Reis whispered.

"Can't...what?" Beowulf asked.

"You can't let Ramza go alone." She ran a finger down the line of his jaw. "You wouldn't be you if you could."

Beowulf caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I can," he breathed, though his heart cracked in his chest. "If it's for you."

She closed her eyes and leaned into him. Her hair was against his lips, tickling his nostrils, and Beowulf almost laughed at the sensation, and almost wept in gratitude. He'd been so afraid he'd never hold her like this again.

"I want to," she admitted, her voice quivering on his bare chest. "I know, it's awful-"

"It's not." He pulled her close. "It's...after what you've been through, Reis?"

She nodded. He could feel her tears against the skin on his chest.

"I want to," she repeated. "But I...can't."

She shifted, to look up at him. Her eyes were watery, and frightened, and so terribly bright. "The things Bremondt..." She broke off, bit back a sob. "The things he did," she continued. "The things he got away with...it wasn't just because of who he was. It's because...because there's so much...wrong, in Ivalice. There's so much wrong with the Templars. This fucking war..." She shook her head. "And now you're telling me there's even more to it than that, demons and who knows what else..." She closed her eyes again. "Evil men, and monsters in their ranks, all of them preying on the weak to get what they want..."

She took a deep breath.

"Forget what we owe Ramza," Reis said. "Forget that they've got Alma, and we can't let them keep her. They can't keep getting away with this." Her eyes flashed open. They were watery, and frightened...but the rage was so much brighter than the fear, and the determination even brighter than the rage. "I won't let them."

"We won't let them," he corrected her, and leaned in to kiss her.

Beowulf Daravon was born to be a legend. He felt that legend taking shape now. In the past two years, he had fought off armies. He had battled demons. He had slain a dragon. But he had done none of those things alone. Every step of the way, he'd been surrounded with people he admired. People who inspired him. People who who would risk their lives for him, the same way he'd risk his life for them.

He didn't know what the future held. But he had Reis in his arms again. He had Delita Heiral and Ramza Beoulve looking out for him. The legend he was living was like nothing he'd ever dreamed. But with the people he loved standing by his side, he couldn't imagine anything other than a happy ending.

"I love you, Wulf," Reis sighed into his ear.

"I love you, Reis."