This is the last chapter - I can't believe that after a year writing this, the story has come to the end. This is the longest story I have ever written, and although sometimes I despaired over the plot or the characters or whatever else, I am so glad to have finished this. Thank you all so much for reading this story and for sending me your lovely reviews. I hope the ending is as good as you deserve.

Chapter 21: Heart

Unlike in nothingness, there was life in the dark. A small beat of a heart, refusing to stop. A memory, words so clear it felt they were spoken right against her ear. Wait until they are close.

She was close now, wasn't she?

Another beat of a heart, fainter. She was so tired and cold. Maybe it had been snowing, red blood against white.

You drive it through their heart to the hilt. Metal against her palm, sharp.

You look in their eyes, and do not pull it out until you see their soul.

The words vanished, the familiar comforting voice leaving her alone into the silent darkness. She had jumped to the sea once. Maybe she was at the bottom of the ocean.

I can, she thought. Not until I see their soul.

I can.

This was not death. She had promised to fight. She would fight.

-o-

Snow clawed her way out of the darkness with ferocious will, reached for the surface like a drowning man, with all she had, the last reserves of her strength and heart. The harder she fought, the faster the world rushed in, bringing with it the ever-increasing pain. She could feel Ravenna; her icy touch penetrating flesh and bone, hungry for her heart. It was poison in her veins, freezing the blood, stealing all the warmth.

But she was so close now; they were still locked in a parody of embrace. And with numb fingers, she was still inexplicably clutching the knife – she had never let go of it.

Snow reached the surface, and as she opened her eyes she was already thrusting the blade into Ravenna's heart. The metal went in surprisingly easy, sinking deep. It felt odd that after all, the queen was only flesh and blood, quietly gasping in pain. They both trembled, clutched at one another. Snow raised her eyes and met Ravenna's gaze. She looked surprised and perplexed, until slowly, understanding dawned as she drew wet, horribly scratchy breaths, struggling against the inevitable. Then she only looked small.

There was shouting, and somewhere behind Snow, the sounds of scuffle. She didn't turn around, couldn't think of anything else but keeping hold of the knife, still pressing it in, deeper, and looking at Ravenna's eyes. Watching as her soul fled.

But first went her power; her poison retreating from Snow, the ice thawing. It felt like Snow could breathe again, after suffocating slowly for years. Then all the color escaped; the queen's skin and lips whitened, the fair hairs turned grey. The green irises were covered with a coating of milk, the black pupils contracting. The youth fled next, the smooth skin wrinkling and stretching, the whole proud body bending and stooping under the onslaught of age. In a matter of seconds, it seemed Ravenna had lived a hundred years. Or more accurately, she was now paying for having lived those years seemingly unmarked. The death always took its own.

Metal clanged, someone swore, horses whinnied. Still, Snow did not turn. She had done this, she was still holding the knife; she had to watch, until it had ended.

Ravenna's mouth moved, but no sound came out. She curled up, ever smaller, finally relinquishing her hold on Snow. She slumped to her knees and Snow had to follow, still clutching the hilt of the blade with numb fingers.

Death sounded and looked horrible, but when it finally took what was owed to it, it did it swiftly and quietly. Ravenna's eyes clouded over, her stare became unseeing. The lungs stopped trying to draw air and the heart ceased to pump blood. The body was just that; a string of bones held together by weary flesh and sinew. Life or soul or spark – or whatever one wanted to call it – was gone. The struggle was over.

Snow released the knife, leaving it where it was buried in Ravenna's chest. She didn't want to touch it. The enormity of the situation was too big for her to grasp. She couldn't think – it felt all too unreal. Had she really succeeded? Had she really killed someone – was Ravenna really dead?

"Move!" Someone shouted, breathless and urgent. "Snow, dodge!"

Purely on instinct Snow rolled to the side as the rest of the world rushed in. A sword swung through the space where she had just been. The weapon belonged to one of the soldiers, who stumbled, when the force of his blow met only air. The man straightened himself immediately, but by then it was too late; Thomas had slashed him with his sword, once, twice, and the soldier slumped to the ground, lying still next to his queen.

Snow took in the situation quickly: three soldiers dead, Gavin fighting another one, Eric wheeling around to confront two others, looking terrible but still somehow upright, clutching a sword. Thomas yanked her from the ground, and for a small moment Snow thought her legs wouldn't carry her, but the world didn't tilt, the ground didn't shook, and her feet found purchase.

"Take cover," Thomas ordered, pushing her away from all the fighting, towards the nearest ruins of a burned house. Snow, however, was having none of it. Didn't they know that it was all over?

"It's over!" She screamed, her voice hoarse. "Your queen is dead! She is dead!" Suddenly her heart started to hammer painfully in her chest, and she felt nauseous, sick to her stomach. Ravenna was dead. Snow had killed her. And she was terribly, tremendously, furiously relieved – and glad.

Gavin and the man he was fighting didn't stop their brutal exchange of blows, but the two other soldiers paused. They looked at Ravenna and their slain comrades, and Snow could see the confusion, the fear on their faces. The impossible had happened; the immortal queen had been killed. Not liking their chances, both men suddenly bolted for the horses.

Thomas moved to stop them, deaf to Snow's faint, "Don't." But the soldiers were already mounted, and Thomas couldn't do anything but swear as they rode rapidly away, as if the hounds of hell were on their heels. He reached for the reins of the nearest horse, but then seemed to change his mind, turning back towards the others.

Snow looked at Eric; he was standing still, the sword hanging limply from his hand. He was watching her and breathing deeply. Snow tried to smile.

There was only one pair of men left fighting; Gavin and his opponent, and they seemed oblivious to all else. For a moment it seemed that neither man had the upper hand, but then Gavin gave a vicious blow with his fist and the other man dropped to the ground. Gavin kicked the man's weapon away and at the same time raised his sword –

"Stop!" Snow's shout was so unexpected that Gavin halted, flummoxed. "Don't, it's over now." She took a step towards him, her voice unintentionally commanding. Gavin seemed to hesitate, the blade only inches from the soldier's neck. The man on the ground didn't dare to move. Snow stepped closer still.

"It's all over now," she said to the soldier, "Go. Go back and tell them the queen is dead." Nothing happened for a moment; both men were transfixed, the executioner and the convicted. Then slowly, Gavin relented and withdrew just a little, letting the soldier get up. The man looked at Snow, distrusting and nervous.

"Go," Snow commanded. The man didn't need to be told again; he ran away, not even trying to take a horse.

"I hope you know what you are doing," Gavin grumbled, but Snow wasn't listening. Eric was still standing in the same spot, unmoving. His sword clattered to the ground.

"Eric –"

Finally, his legs gave out and the huntsman collapsed to his knees. Snow was already running towards him; she sank next to him, taking hold of his shoulders, not letting his exhausted body thump to the hard ground.

"Eric!" Frantic, she tried to assess his wounds. The bleeding from the head wound had petered out, but had he lost too much blood already? Did he have some other wounds? "Where are you hurt?" Her anxious hands searched for any tears of clothing, for any fresh blood.

"Snow," Eric's hands took hold of her fingers, making them stay still. "That was – I can't believe you came here – that was so stupid!" He squeezed her hands, his eyes never leaving her face; as if he wanted to reassure himself that she was really there. "What did you think you were doing? You could have – you almost died! And for what?" He sounded genuinely baffled and angry, but Snow could also see the fear and relief evident on his face.

"Hush now, I need to look where you are hurt," Snow murmured and gently drew her hands away from his, continuing to pat him down, looking for places where he might be hurt. Eric seemed dumbfounded, all his arguments vanishing in the face of her determined calm. "Just cuts and bruises," he mumbled, "the head wound looks worse than it is…made me a little woozy, and I haven' had any water or food…"

"Gavin, bring me a water bottle," Snow said and touched Eric's forehead with careful fingers. The wound had partially closed up, sealed with crusted blood. Someone nudged her shoulder and Snow turned her head to see Gavin offering a water bottle. She took it with a grateful smile, uncapping the bottle and settling it on Eric's lips. He drank greedily, sighing in content. The bottle was soon empty.

"You're welcome, huntsman," Gavin said, humor in his voice.

Eric lifted his head and looked at the man, scowling. "Don't think that I won't have words with you – you and Thomas – for letting her come here."

"I thought you had already learned that no one is ´letting´ her do anything," Gavin laughed. "And for the record – I fear her much more than you!" He sounded uncommonly cheerful. "She just saved your sorry ass – and killed the freaking witch!"

"That she did," Eric said quietly. Snow couldn't parse the emotion in his voice, was it – could it be pride?

As if by mutual agreement, all their eyes turned towards the former queen. Thomas was standing only a few yards away from Ravenna, staring at her corpse, a stunned expression on his face. "She really is dead," he said wonderingly, as if talking to himself. "What now?"

Snow closed her eyes against the blinding joy and clutched at Eric. Now, she thought, we live.

-o-

They didn't want to stay long in the destroyed village. Although it was unlikely that the soldiers would come back any time soon with reinforcements, they didn't want to take any chances. Furthermore, none of them wanted to stay longer than necessary in a place that had seen so much violence and tragedy, or to spend any more time with the dead – with Ravenna's withered body. Quickly, they tended to Eric's wounds, making sure he was fit to ride, and buried the dead in a shallow grave at Snow's insistence. They took whatever supplies they needed that the soldiers had left behind, including all the remaining horses. It was not yet midday, when they rode away. None of them looked back.

In the evening they stopped, deciding to spend the night resting, confident that no one was following or knew where they were headed. It was yet a full day of riding to the mines, and they were all tired to the point of exhaustion. The suspenseful, hard ride to the village and the short but brutal fight had taken their toll on Snow, Gavin and Thomas. Eric on the other hand, despite his numerous denials, was still suffering from his captivity and wounds, though none were serious.

They settled on a nice, sheltered area, and soon everyone but Gavin, who had taken the first watch, was snuggled down contently on their makeshift beds. Snow pressed her eyes closed, willing the darkness to calm her raging thoughts. But it was impossible; everything that had happened, all the desperation and fear and relief and disbelief were clamoring for her attention. She shifted restlessly for a time, and then having made up her mind, rose up to check on the horses.

Snow passed Gavin silently, not bothering to explain herself. The horses were huddled together, their bodies emitting warmth. Snow stroked their silky coat, drinking in the calm and peace that surrounded the trusting animals. One of the mares, a beautiful brown one that had belonged to one of the soldiers, nudged her shoulder, making Snow smile. She whispered nonsense to its attentive ears, promising treats when they were back home.

"Making new friends?" Snow didn't startle, when the huntsman managed to silently appear next to her; she had rather expected it. Eric's form, although half-concealed by the darkness, was familiar and solid, an anchor.

"Hmm," Snow hummed, feeling suddenly content. She continued to stroke the mare, but her whole being was wholly conscious of Eric's nearness. Their separation finally over, she now felt his presence almost too keenly; it was a heady drug.

"Are you…" Eric sounded oddly hesitant. "Are you alright? What Ravenna did to you…" His voice was almost a whisper; the words petered out into the darkness.

Snow thought about his question; thought about how Ravenna had tried to draw all life from her, and how she had turned the tables and killed her. "I am," she said. Then, more truthfully, "I will be."

His hand found hers in the dark, the callused fingers squeezing gently. He felt the cloth that she had wrapped around her palm, and asked, "Your hand…I meant to ask earlier, who cut it?" The frown he was undoubtedly sporting was evident in his voice.

"I did." Before Eric could raise more questions, Snow tugged at his hand. "Let's talk a little further away from the camp, I don't want to bother the others."

"Please do," Gavin's sleepy voice came from the dark, "and if you are both going to be awake, then I'll go to sleep." Without any further ado, they heard him settle down to his sleeping place. Eric, still holding Snow's hand, led her a short way from the camp, his feet sure in the dark. They sat down on some rocks, facing each other.

"I had a plan you know," Snow said, suddenly wanting him to know she hadn't been acting as thoughtlessly as he had accused. "I finally saw the missing pieces of the dream. How Ravenna's village was attacked, when she was young. It was not her fault –not at the beginning. Her mother wanted to only save her." She paused, seeing the scene once again in her mind's eye. The snow, the milk, the desperation of a mother.

"So she made a spell that her daughter would never age, never lose her beauty. But there was a catch." He was quiet, listening carefully. They were still holding hands; Snow didn't think she could let go anytime soon. "There always is. She made the spell with Ravenna's blood, and with another's blood the spell could be undone. My blood." She recalled the moment, when she had understood it all; the hope she had hardly dared to feel, the sadness in the face of so much tragedy. How it all had begun out of love, and how it would end because of love. How she and Ravenna were truly connected after all.

"I knew then, I was the only one that could kill her. But I didn't know if it needed to be literally my blood, so I cut my palm and coated the knife with the blood, just in case." His thump caressed the cut on her hand gently, making it tingle faintly. Snow swallowed, and forced herself to continue. "I saw you – how Ravenna was ready to kill you, and I couldn't – I knew she would let me get close to her, and she did. She didn't think that anybody could hurt her."

For a while they sat in silence, the touch of their hands starting to fill all the empty spaces their separation had ripped open wide.

Then Eric said, voice hoarse from emotion, "I know you had to confront her, but you should have waited until you had more backup, until the situation was more to your advantage."

Snow stared at him, uncomprehending. "I could not have waited! She would have killed you!"

"Yeah, well…you don't owe me anything."

"Owe you!? You think I did this because I believe I owe you something?" Her volume was rising, but she didn't care if the whole world heard; she had never been this incensed. "You – you are such an idiot! I did it because I love you and because the mere thought of you dying is enough to shatter me!"

Furious, Snow jumped to her feet, trying to withdraw her hand from his. He didn't let go of her, pulled her tight against him instead. Despite herself, Snow wrapped her arms around his neck, burrowing deeper into him even when she was still berating him, "How can you not know? You are everything. I can't –"

"I know, I know," Eric whispered against her neck, "I do know, dearheart. But sometimes it makes me stupid…makes me afraid."

"Why?" Snow asked, curious.

"Because there is so much to lose. I never thought I could have this again, that I would –"

"Tell me, please." Her heart was beating against his, beating as one.

"My heart is yours, everything I am, everything I have – which is not much, I know." Snow was ready to scold him – he had so much to give, more than he could possibly know – but Eric was already continuing, his voice growing stronger, "But if you'll have me – if you'll have me, I promise to always be by your side, to love you better and longer than anyone, beyond the end of everything. That I'll swear."

"I accept." Snow smiled, her love beyond measure. The future lay open before them, full of endless possibilities – only one thing was constant; wherever the road would lead, they would go there together.

"Thank you," Eric whispered against her ear. The rest of the words were not said, but Snow could hear them anyway. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for loving me.

Then finally, finally, he kissed her deep.

And never stopped.

-o-

THE END