Epilogue:

Standing in the center of the stable, Emma turned around and cast a critical eye on her surroundings. It was the first day she'd been allowed to resume her normal duties.

"Can I get Spot now?" Carl returned his pitchfork to its place in the corner. "We've mucked, swept, hayed, washed buckets, tidied blankets…"

Okay, so not *quite* normal duties. Emma found she was still being babysat. This time by Carl, of all people. "What about the tack room?" She asked, eyebrow raised.

"Archer'd it yesterday. Ask Sal."

"You what?" Emma blinked.

"Archer'd it." Carl shrugged. "Got it done."

"I don't even want to know." She sighed, walking into the tack room she had to agree it was quite clean. Emma felt a twinge of relief that Churchill's tack was still there. A part of her had expected it to be confiscated. "Okay, we're done here." A full hour and a half ahead of schedule too.

"Sweet." Carl grabbed a lead line and headed for the door.

"Mind Churchill when you take Spot out of the field."

"Yeah yeah, I'll be careful." He disappeared out the door with a dismissive wave.

"Don't let him push past you at the gate!" She called after him.

Emma leaned back against the stone wall, trying to decide what to do with her time. She had a short watch after lunch and kitchen duty in the evening. It didn't fill her schedule. Maybe I should go find Michael to see if he needs help with the wedding plans. Her friends hadn't yet decided on a date. The whole fortress was looking forward to the event.

"You done yet?" A familiar voice came from the stable door. She turned to see Daryl leaning on the door frame.

At that moment, Emma knew exactly what she wanted to do with her spare time. She walked over to Daryl, grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him down into a kiss.

"Mmmm." He purred. "That'd be a yes then?" He smiled, picking her up by her waist. She wrapped her legs around his as he stumbled forwards into the tack room and sat her on a trunk.

Their leisurely make-out session was interrupted when Gordie's familiar form appeared in the doorway. "Yeah, that's soo not going to happen."

Daryl broke his kiss. "Fuck off, Gordie."

"Love to. Just as soon as Archie here goes and catches that goddamn horse before he kills someone."

Emma could hear hoof beats in the parade square, accompanied by Churchill's rebellious squeal. "Damnit. I've got to get him."

Daryl tilted his head back and sighed. "Fuck me."

"Archie," Gordie warned. "He's getting into the winter garden…"

"Coming." Emma pried herself away from Daryl and headed out of tack room. She swiped a lead line off the wall as she exited muttering "I'm going to kill Carl."