The letter looked innocuous enough, sitting on the kitchen table.

Tea still brewing on the stove, Evie sat and stared at the sloping letters that spelled out her name. Her maiden name. She recognized the hand, of course; she'd lived with it for nearly twenty years. Finally, overcoming her hesitation and bracing herself, she slit the envelope open.

Evie —

I am in India. I have destroyed your things. Do not expect them back.

For those who ask after you, I simply say that you were never my wife in true. The novices grieve for your absence. I do not.

You made a fool of me in every way imaginable. I loved you truly, deeply, and I see now that this was never returned; I look over our marriage and can only see the lies laced through every interaction. There is no element of my life with you that isn't poisoned.

You must know that your father would be disgusted beyond belief, and disappointed with you beyond measure. As am I.

This is the last time I will reach out to you. I will burn any letters you send unopened.

Jayadeep

Even as she read it over a few times, the words didn't hurt as much as she expected them to. There was the initial sting, the tightness in her chest as she took in the lines so clearly meant to inflict pain. But in the end, she had expected no different. She couldn't have predicted the exact phrasing, but nothing about the letter was a surprise. Clearly, she had known him much better than he had known her.

With thoughtful fingers, she folded the paper. In many ways, the dismissal made her feel lighter. Like something holding her back had finally lifted, a weight of years disappearing like mist in the morning.

Nothing is forbidden. Everything is permitted.

She thought about showing the letter to Jacob. He was still sound asleep in their bed— their bed, the words still made her smile— enjoying a much-deserved lie in after his work over the last few weeks. No need to wake him for something as ultimately paltry as this.

Standing, she walked to the stove and put the letter in the fire, watching it curl at the edges until it disappeared in a growing flash of bright flames. As irrevocably finished as that chapter of her life, her relationship with that man, the decisions that she had made so long ago.

That was behind her, now. Jacob was the future. She had made a mistake by leaving, but she could best fix it by trying to be what he deserved from now on.

He did, after all, deserve the world.

When Jacob walked into the training space in the warehouse down by the river one day, he found Emmett sitting backwards on a chair, leaning his chin against the back rest. When Jacob followed his rapt gaze, he saw that Jane and Evie were on the other side of the room working with throwing knives, pinning them against targets one after one.

Evie landed a particularly difficult shot, twisting her wrist. Emmett finally noticed Jacob standing by his side, and he let out a whistle. "She's really something, isn't she?"

She was. "Could trounce me backwards and forwards by the time we were eight."

"What?" Emmett frowned up at him. "I meant Jane."

Oh. When Jacob reoriented his attention, he could see Jane's determination, her growing skill as she practiced over and over at this task. "Right. Yes, she's very talented. Deserves much better than you, to be honest."

Emmett snorted, not at all offended, and went back to staring happily at Jane. "Probably true."

"You're very lucky."

"Mhm."

And so am I, Jacob added internally, watching for a moment longer before he turned his attention to other things.

Sitting in the little office above the training space, Evie opened her diaries and notes for Oliver. When she had initially suggested this to Jacob, he had reflected that it was probably what they should've done in the first place. Unfortunately, options other than secrecy didn't come easy for an Assassin.

"My sources are here," she said quietly, tracing her finger along the page. "I made an appendix to keep things straight, you'll find that in the back. It's all the information I've gathered over twenty years about the Shroud. And Oliver…" She gave him a long look. "I'm trusting you to not misuse this."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Over the weeks, Oliver had gradually regained a lot of the weight that he had lost, the colour coming back to his cheeks. Alfred had insisted on dragging Oliver from his drab room and into the bosom of his family, where his girls and wife had delighted over someone new to fuss over and dote on. The difference had done the young man worlds of good.

Still, Oliver tiptoed around everyone else. He was clearly finding it hard to move on from the fact that he had made such a terrible mistake; it was as though he expected everyone to change their mind about his right to be there without warning.

Now, though, he reached out a tentative hand and took the notes from her hand. "I actually think…" He swallowed slowly before he held the notes back out towards her. "I think I don't need to see them."

It wasn't what she had expected. "Are you sure?"

"It sucked me in and gave me nothing but grief." He rubbed his palms together. "I can… I should do other things. I've been talking to Clara, she has some jobs for me. Children's rights malarkey, but I think I can help."

Folding her papers shut, Evie gave him the warmest smile she could manage. "I think that's a wonderful idea." No doubt keeping busy would help— perhaps he would even relax into the company of the other novitiates. He probably would. One day.

Oliver nodded heavily. "Have you ever lost someone?"

In her mind's eye, Evie saw tiny nails on tiny fingers, delicate tufts of dark hair that sloped down towards closed eyes with long eyelashes. "Yes."

"Does it get easier?"

"Yes." For better or for worse, time dimmed the sting of those memories. "Yes, it does."

He found her perched on her favourite spot on the roof, overlooking the city and the chaos below. The tiles crunched under Jacob's feet as he walked over them heavily— never a good idea to surprise Evie. "There you are, you miscreant."

"Hey," she responded, shooting him a quick smile over her shoulder. "Do you need something?"

Jacob shook his head. "Just looking for you."

"Mm. Well, here I am."

He settled down beside her, awkwardly leaning on his cane. Lockwood's blow had set his recovery back some ways, which was irritating, but there was no sense in dwelling on it. He was here for more important things than moaning about his ankle.

After a few minutes of silence, he fumbled for the box in his pocket, trying not to show his nerves on his face. He passed it to her casually, like this wasn't the product of weeks of worrying and wondering, like it wasn't a stressful thing even if it was purely symbolic.

"What…" She frowned at him as she opened the box, and her mouth dropped open when she saw the ring. It was a slim and simple silver band, inconspicuous and unostentatious. "Jacob?"

"You stopped wearing the one from… The other one," he said quietly, not wanting to even say that bastard's name. "So I got you this one."

She was still staring at the box silently, her dark eyes wide.

Gently, he reached over and took the ring from the cushion, rolling it between his fingers. "I know that we'll never be able to have a ceremony," he said quietly. "And if you think it would just make people think of that man…"

"No, no." She reached out and took it from him quickly, like she was almost afraid that he would snatch it away. "I don't need a legal vow, Jacob. This means just as much."

"Truly?"

"Truly."

Her obvious joy made his chest swell.

It would always be complicated, yes. It would always be secret. It was a hard-won happiness, and there would no doubt be further difficulties. But as she slipped the ring onto her finger and flexed her hands a few times, as if testing its weight, he found himself certain that they could face whatever was ahead. She sighed happily and he vaguely wondered if now the time was for a romantic declaration, something flowery and poetic. Thankfully, she turned and smiled at him, and he realized with a deep sense of relief that it wasn't necessary. They'd never needed words.

He tucked her close under his arm, and they leaned against each other, watching the sun set over London.

Author's Notes:

Wow.

I can't quite believe that this series is over, but here we are. A lot of love went into this, and I have been overwhelmed and moved in turns by the reception of In Trutina and all its associated works. This whole series has been such an escape for me, in a time when I really needed one. It made me happy to write, and it made me happy when it was read.

Someone recently compared writing fic to performing on a stage. There's a certain pleasure to doing it on your own, but a lot of the experience is seeing the impact of the people watching. So, thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has reached out to let me know that they were a part of my audience. Here and on Tumblr (PoetHrostvitha).

Coming next: A Dark!Twins Templar Au... ✧( ु•⌄• ) Still not sure if it'll go up here or only on ao3 (PoetHrotsvitha, again) so wander over there if you want to be sure you catch it!