Cruel Sister: A Spander Fairytale.

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“…and so, your good majesties, I took a harp I had made, and I enchanted it to sing the tune you all heard. Dear Alexander sang it for me several times so that the harp could record it, and then I brought it here to bring the would-be murderess to justice. I feared that if I were simply to present the dear prince to you, you would not believe his tale, thinking him to have hit his head or some such when falling into the river. Therefore there must be some way to draw her to admit her crime, without endangering the prince. And I succeeded.” He looked pleased.

“Then where is he!” Spike demanded. He had to see his love, to hold him, to see for himself that the boy was alive! The harpmaker’s companion stepped forward from where he had hidden in the back of the room. He pulled back the hood, and smiled at his knight.

“I am right here, beloved.” He said, or at least he tried, for Spike was beside him in an instant, wrapping him in his arms and kissing him passionately. The King watched them, his joy at having his darling son back with him almost, but not quite, winning over his sorrow at seeing his old friend, his own dear love, again after all these years – and being unable to do anything about it. The queen laid her hand on her husband’s arm, and he turned to her.

“Go to him” she whispered, her eyes understanding. “I always knew I would not get to keep you. Go to him.” Then she went to embrace her son. The king smiled at her; she was a remarkable woman, his dear wife. That was why he had married her; she had never complained about being second in his heart. She had never even attempted to take Ethan’s place. And now, she was setting him free. But then he saw that Ethan had already turned to leave, thinking his duty completed.

“Wait!” he cried, rushing after him. “Please, wait.”

“Why should I wait? There is nothing here for me.” The other man looked sad, and a little lost, and suddenly very old. Giles put his arms around him, the same gesture the young knight had done with his dear son.

“I am here.” He said. “at long last.” Then he kissed him, and the love that had always been there shone almost as brightly as the love of prince Alexander and Sir Spike, who were still very much joined at the lip.

Queen Joyce wrapped her arms around her dark-haired daughter, smiling. Now, her world was bright again. Everything was as it was supposed to be. Well, almost. Buffy would still need to be dealt with, but she would worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, she would be joyful at the return of her son, and the reunion of her husband and his one true love. And, considering the way Dawn was looking at the young scribe shyly gazing back at her, she would soon have another wedding to plan.

And they all would live, and love, happily ever after. (well, except Buffy, but nobody really liked her anyway.)

~~~~~~~Fin.~~~~~~~~

A/N: All finished. w00t. And no, I'm not writing a sequel.