Epilogue
Six months later
Finn wiped sweat from his forehead, leaving a smudge of sawdust across his temple.
The village school’s roof stretched before him, half the old shingles already replaced with sturdy new ones that would see the kids through another twenty winters.
His hands ached in the best way with the satisfying burn of useful work done well.
“Hand me that next beam,” Darragh called from his position near the chimney. His shirt was rolled to the elbows, his hair tied back with a leather cord, and he looked nothing like a king. He looked happy.
Finn passed the beam across, watching Darragh position it carefully.
Six months of working together on projects throughout the kingdom had transformed his husband’s shipbuilding skills into housebuilding ones.
Darragh wasn’t master level, but then Finn’s weren’t either.
But they were both competent enough that Finn trusted Darragh with load-bearing structures.
“You’ve gotten better at this,” Finn said, admiring the way his husband worked.
“I had a good teacher.” Darragh aligned the beam, checking the angle twice before securing the first bolt. “Though I still think you’re showing off with those fancy corner joints.”
Laughing, Finn shook his head. “That’s called craftsmanship.”
“That’s called making the rest of us look bad.”
Below them, children played in the schoolyard while parents and villagers gathered with food and drinks.
Mrs. Weatherby - who’d made the journey from Winrone specifically to monitor the king and king consort’s performance - was holding court near the ale barrels, telling anyone who’d listen with stories about “young Finn” and his tendency to fix things that weren’t necessarily broken.
“Your Majesty,” Old Peter called up. “Are you going to finish before supper, or should we eat without you?”
“Start without us,” Darragh shouted back. “We’re almost done.”
“That’s what you said an hour ago.”
Finn grinned. That was what he’d missed most during those terrible months when he’d tried to be someone else - the easy familiarity of people who welcomed those ready to help.
The villagers of Greenmere had been wary at first when the king and king consort announced they’d be helping with the school repairs personally.
But wariness had melted into comfortable acceptance after Finn spent the first day discussing timber quality with the local carpenter and Darragh had accidentally hammered his own thumb…
twice. By the second time, the school children knew it was acceptable to laugh, especially at the faces Darragh would make when he’d done it.
“How’s it looking?” Marcus appeared at the ladder’s top, the castle’s head of maintenance surveying their work with a critical eye. He’d volunteered to oversee the project, which was his excuse for seeing what Finn could actually do.
“It’s solid,” Finn reported. “This will be weather-tight well before the next storm.”
Marcus nodded approval. “Good work. Both of you.” His head disappeared as he climbed down again, heading for the ale barrels.
The afternoon sun slanted across the roof, warm despite autumn’s chill.
Finn moved to the next section, Darragh following with the toolbox.
They worked in comfortable silence, the kind that came from knowing each other’s rhythms. When Finn reached for a hammer, Darragh already had it ready.
When Darragh needed the level, Finn passed it without being asked.
“I got a letter from Queen Cressida yesterday,” Darragh mentioned, securing another shingle. “She wants to visit next month.”
“Is she making a social call or a political one?”
“Both, probably. She mentioned bringing her Minister of Agriculture to discuss crop rotation techniques with our farmers.” Darragh’s tone was casual, but Finn heard the pride underneath.
Other kingdoms didn’t just tolerate Safe Harbor anymore, they were actively seeking out Darragh and Finn’s expertise.
“We’ll make time,” Finn said. He’d been learning a lot in the past six months as well - learning to balance his practical work with consort duties, and accepting that he needed to schedule infrastructure projects around diplomatic obligations.
It helped that he’d hired staff who understood his priorities.
Since the summit, Gordon had stepped up, moving from being Finn’s personal assistant to the genuine head of household - with office duties thrown in.
It was Gordon who delegated as much as possible to new staff, ensuring things ran smoothly even when Finn was knee-deep in foundation repairs.
Hoofbeats sounded on the road below. Finn glanced down to see Jericho dismounting, looking far more official than he had six months ago.
His brother had accepted Darragh’s offer to join the royal council as an adviser, bringing fresh perspectives to what he called ‘dusty old’ policies.
Half the nobility still complained about Jericho’s “radical” ideas, which Darragh considered a ringing endorsement.
“You two look very domestic,” Jericho called up, grinning.
“It’s called being productive,” Finn corrected. “You should try it sometime.”
“Said by someone who has sawdust in your hair.”
“You’ve got pompous in your voice. It must be from spending all that time with the other advisers.”
Jericho laughed, accepting a cup of cider from one of the villagers. “I actually have news from court. The Northern Collective formally proposed a joint infrastructure initiative. They want to model their harbor improvements on what we did in Eastpoint.”
Darragh nearly dropped his hammer. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Helena’s drafting the agreement now.” Jericho’s smile widened. “Apparently, word spread about the king consort’s innovative approach to practical engineering. Several kingdoms are interested in consultation.”
“That’s…er…good.” Finn felt his cheeks flush and knew it had nothing to do with the sun. Six months ago, he’d been terrified of embarrassing Safe Harbor. Now, other kingdoms wanted his expertise.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Darragh murmured, though his eyes shone with pride.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, the Northern Collective deals with you, not me,” Finn reminded him.
Another rider approached. It was Trent this time.
Finn had asked him to inspect some bridge repairs.
He’d taken the newly created role of Infrastructure Manager, overseeing practical projects across Safe Harbor with the same straightforward competence and good humor he’d brought to everything else.
The role suited Trent perfectly, giving him authority without requiring him to worry about who was meant to sit in specific seats during a formal dinner.
“Greenmere bridge is solid,” Trent reported, swinging off his horse. “The current reinforcements will hold through spring flooding.” He looked up at the roof. “How’s it going up there?”
“Nearly finished,” Finn called down. “Did you want to help with the last section?”
“Absolutely not. I just got clean.” Trent was already grinning and accepting ale from Mrs. Weatherby before he settled in to watch.
The final beam went into place as the sun began to set.
Finn tested the structure, putting his full weight on the new supports.
They were solid and Finn knew that the roof would protect all the children throughout countless winters, keep them dry during storms, and give them the shelter they needed to help with their learning.
“There,” he said, satisfaction warm in his chest. “That’s proper work.”
Darragh came to stand beside him, surveying their accomplishment. “We make a good team.”
“We do.” Finn leaned against him briefly, not caring who saw. Six months of proving himself had taught him something else important - the people who mattered didn’t care about propriety.
Below, someone started setting up tables for supper.
The smell of roasted meat and fresh bread drifted up, making Finn’s stomach growl.
They’d been working since dawn with only brief breaks.
His muscles ached, his hands were filthy, and he’d probably have splinters for days. Best of all, he’d never been happier.
“You know what today is?” Finn asked, watching the sun paint the sky brilliantly in hues of pink and gold.
Darragh’s grin was immediate, warm enough to rival the sunset. “Thursday. It’s our day.”
“Every day is our day now.” And that was true, too.
Finn and Darragh kept their tradition of Thursdays - one full day together away from court obligations.
But they’d also learned to find each other in the everyday moments - morning meetings where they worked through problems together, evening walks in the gardens.
The best times were the quiet nights in their chambers, where sometimes they would still be talking until dawn about everything and nothing.
Darragh cupped his face, thumbs brushing sawdust from his cheekbones. “I love you,” he murmured quietly.
“I love you too.” Finn kissed him softly. “You have sawdust in your hair as well. We match.”
“That we do, my husband. That we do.” Darragh’s grin was wide. Of course, they were in public, and it seemed the villagers appreciated their kiss, erupting in cheers and good-natured whistling.
“Get down here and eat,” someone yelled. “Save the romance for later.”
“The king and king consort are better roofers than our local crew,” Old Peter announced, raising his cup. “Though considerably slower.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd. Finn grabbed another quick kiss before pulling back and grinning.
“He’s not wrong about the slower part,” Darragh admitted.
“Quality takes time.”
They climbed down the ladder together, immediately surrounded by villagers offering food, drink, and commentary on their technique. Mrs. Weatherby hugged Finn hard enough to crack ribs, telling him he looked well and happy and she’d told everyone he would be.
Jericho pulled Darragh aside to discuss the Northern Collective proposal in more detail while Trent cornered Finn to show him sketches for a new community center in Winrone.
The evening dissolved into comfortable chaos - food and conversation, children running underfoot, the easy warmth of community.
As darkness fell, someone lit torches around the schoolyard. Music started - fiddles and drums, nothing formal or refined - just a celebration of a good day.
Finn found himself dancing with Darragh in the firelight, neither of them particularly graceful but both laughing too hard to care. Around them, villagers danced too, the lines between royalty and common folk blurred into irrelevance.
That was Safe Harbor’s strength, Finn realized. Not refinement or sophistication or rigid protocols. Their strength lay in their connection and the willingness to work alongside their people rather than above them.
“What are you thinking?” Darragh asked, pulling him closer.
“That I wouldn’t change anything. Not one single thing.”
“Not even Thomas’s sabotage from so many months ago?”
“Not even that. It taught us to work together properly.” Finn rested his forehead against Darragh’s as they slowly swayed to the music. “We’re good at this. At being partners.”
“The best.”
The music swelled, and they spun together under the stars.
Tomorrow they’d return to the castle, to council meetings and diplomatic correspondence and all the responsibilities that came with their positions.
But tonight they were just Finn and Darragh, two men who’d found each other against all odds and built something real.
It was, Finn thought, exactly the kind of life he hadn’t even hoped he’d find, but it was one that worked for him and for Darragh. And that, at the end of the day, was the best life of all - sunsets, a fire, and dancing with the locals after a hard day’s work.
The End