“And now, the final sitting.”

The painting had come along well. Tompa-Tumpa was secure in his future as an artist, and Angelica knew her legacy as a portraiter would follow him as well.

“And the final chapter in our story, as well.” Curilla smiled, eager to finish her tale. “It begins on the same tournament field as the whole story, thirteen years later.”

***

Curilla sighed as she went to her afternoon exercises. Since that conversation with Claidie years ago, she had felt a great burden lifted from her heart. She knew now that Trion was her soul mate, and it was merely a matter of time before he asked her to marry him again, and she said yes this time. But he never asked.

He had never asked again.

They fought daily. She had never entered the tourneys again after she lost her eye, considering them a waste of time, but she trained and drilled with Trion constantly, and he had won almost every year since then.

She greeted him with a quick salute, and he replied with a formal bow. "My beautiful Lady Curilla," he murmured quietly.

"Your Highness," she replied.

They began their fight without further ceremony. Curilla found joy in the physical world more so than the spiritual, and she never felt more alive than she did when she was fighting with Trion. They knew each other's fighting styles so well, and knew each other's hearts so well, that it was less of a fight and more of a dance, a strange dance with flying swords and clanking shields - and properly forged armor and swords that did not break even when they executed fancy skills.

After an hour, with both of them winded and neither the victor, as was usually the case, they agreed to take a break. The field was otherwise empty today, without any of the spectators that occasionally stopped by nor any of the other Temple Knights to interrupt them. They gulped down water and wiped the sweat from their brows as they stared at the sky overheard, leaning against the wall surrounding the field.

"You smell nice," he said, sticking his nose close to her hair.

"Ew!" she said, playfully shoving him away. "I smell like the inside of a helmet."

"No, I definitely detect strawberries." He sniffed again. "Did you change shampoos?"

"Yes . . . a few days ago." She was surprised he had not noticed sooner.

"I like this one. Keep using it." He shifted down a bit further and nibbled her ear, a spot he knew she favored.

"Trion," she hissed, even as her blood grew hotter. "Not on the practice field."

"Why not? No one is here."

"I'm nasty and I need a shower!"

"So am I," he argued, and captured her lips so that she could argue no further. She caved in, humming low in her throat. He broke away for a moment to murmer wickedly, "We could go take a shower together."

"Incorrigible," she answered, and he resumed kissing her tenderly. They embraced, their armor clinking and sliding until they were almost in full body contact despite it.

They stayed like that for a long while, as two lovers long comfortable with each other could do. It turned out to be too long.

As they broke apart, Curilla looked across the practice field to see none other than Pieuje staring at them. He had an unreadable expression on his face, but a terrible gleam in his eye. Unlike Claidie, Curilla had no doubts that the first thing he would do was tell his father in an effort to get his brother in trouble.

It was over.

* * *

They were called to the king's chamber that afternoon, together. Claidie sat quietly on one side of the hallway, next to Pieuje, who was trying very hard not to smirk maniacally. Halver stood next to them stoically.

King Destin looked powerful and terrible on his throne. General Curilla and Prince Trion knelt before him. Curilla had been terrified in the intervening hours, but now that terror had been replaced with a strange calm. The years of lies would end today, for better or for worse.

The king rubbed his forehead with his be-ringed hand, as if he had a headache. He was silent for a long time, staring at the pair of lovers, as if he was unsure of where to begin.

Finally, he simply asked, "How long has this been going on?"

Trion started to say, "Nothing is-" before Curilla cut him off. She looked him in the eye, and said, "I cannot lie to my sovereign."

Then she took a deep breath. "Almost thirteen years, Your Majesty."

Pieuje and Destin both nearly fell out of their chairs. "Thirteen years?" Pieuje shouted, horrified. "But you were naught but children!"

“We were eighteen when things got serious,” Trion said, turning very red.

Only Claidie stayed composed through the confession. "Children can fall in love as well," she said softly.

"And did you ever have any intention of telling anyone?" Destin continued, obviously disturbed.

Trion was flustered. "Well, obviously. Eventually we'd have to tell someone. But we were concerned about Curilla's career. It is improper for the General of the Temple Knights to have a relationship with anyone, let along . . . a royal."

Curilla took a deep breath. "I tender my resignation as General immediately." What else could she possibly do?

"Your offer is considered and refused," Destin said, prompting dropped jaws from all around the room. The king stood up and began to pace around the room. "Our army is not so strong that I can throw away generals over minor scandals like this. And there is no law that says a Temple Knight cannot fall in love."

"But it is breaking the vow of purity!" Pieuje practically shouted. "They have deceived us all for thirteen years!"

"Pieuje," Destin said sharply, "do you speak out of concern for the spiritual well being of your Knights or out of an attempt to embarrass your brother?"

Chastised, Pieuje sat down. This was clearly not going as he had anticipated.

"I did not call you in to issue punishments." Destin paused in his pacing to look hard at his oldest son. "However, it is high time you stopped playing warrior and gave me grandchildren, Trion. That too is part of the duties of a prince."

Trion blanched and looked at Curilla, who could only stare at him. "She has told me no before," he whispered, searching her face for clues about her feelings. "She told me she would never be my bride or my princess."

"Maybe you should ask me again, your highness." Curilla was shaking as she gently took his hand.

"Here? Now?"

"Why not?" She smiled at him, a smile full of love and happiness. The time had finally come for the truth.

"Marry me, Curilla."

"Yes." She closed her eyes and repeated the words. "Yes, Trion, I will marry you."

Claidie was crying tears of joy, while Pieuje rolled his eyes. Halver looked oddly disappointed; there had been rumors that he had ambitions for his daughter where the princes were concerned. Destin look gruffly pleased as well.

"Congratulations, my oldest son. Halver, we will commence the wedding plans immediately."

* * *

What followed was a whirlwind of happy activities for both the bride and groom. She was issued a temporary leave from her post as general, which she gratefully accepted because her life was suddenly filled with hundreds of appointments with the modiste, furniture makers, hairdressers, alchemists, cooks, jewelers, and crafters from every other guild to build her and Trion a wedding trousseau fitting for a prince and a princess. She had wanted to wear the simple wedding armor favored by adventurers, but was told in no uncertain terms that that was unacceptable. Her wedding dress was made ridiculously poofy, but with sapphire trim that complemented her hair and her one visible eye. It had taken a lot of strong-arming of the hairdresser to have her final hairstyle done with her eye covered, but in the end she had one and two graceful flattened tendrils looped down over her eye before rejoining the hair piled on top of her head.

And it was on the tournament field where they said their vows, at Trion's request. Curilla suspected it was partially to rub it in his brother's face, but Trion's explanation was that it was where they had first met as children.

Afterward, the streets of San d'Oria were filled with rejoicing from the citizens. The party lasted for days, even as Trion and Curilla were whisked away to Kazham for their honeymoon.

They were sitting together on the docks there, their feet dangling over the edge, watching the tropical waves, sipping wine as the sun set over the ocean to the west.

"This time," she said softly, "I think we have found a happiness that will last."

"I hope so," Trion answered. "At the very least, we will have no more hiding."

"I'm surprised your father was so generous." Curilla buried her forehead on his shoulder. "I was afraid I was going to be stripped of my title and exiled."

Trion was sad when he said, "Father is gravely ill, although he does not want anyone to know. He has still not decided which of us will inherit the throne, and I think he wants the reassurance of an unbroken line before he passes. Pieuje has been blabbing on about the Empress of Aht Urghan, but she has not replied to his letters and during my time there I was under the impression that she had her heart broken once before and does not wish to risk it again. Perhaps she will come around to a political alliance, but my father's time in this world is growing short and he cannot wait for Pieuje to convince her."

"So he would like a grandson?" Curilla shifted closer to him.

"Or a granddaughter. I do not think he will be picky."

"He may not have as long to wait as he thinks." Curilla was smiling the secret smile of feminine mystery.

Trion's eyes bugged out. "Curilla . . . do you mean . . .?"

"I think my father Rainemard would have liked a girl as well. He always said I was proof that a girl can do anything a boy can. Perhaps our child will be proof that a princess can do anything a prince can, like Claidie."

Trion hugged his wife joyfully, and they kissed as the sun finally dipped below the horizon.

* * *

"And thus, it is the end of my tale." Curilla said. "I could continue, but from that point on, our lives are formally recorded in history. Destin died within days of my first children being born. We had four children altogether, the eldest twins, although my oldest daughter was killed in battle when she was tragically young. My son and my other girls have given me plenty of grandchildren as well. Trion inherited the throne after the Empress of Aht Urghan finally caved in and accepted Pieuje's proposal for a political marriage. Claidie ended up joining an excursion with her uncle Rochefogne to reclaim Tavnazia, and met a thief that wooed her as a fighter instead of a princess. He was actually a bit upset when he found out about her deception, but it all worked out for them in the end." Curilla looked sadly at the ground. "I lost Trion too soon, about ten years ago. My son is a good King, but I am losing my will to remain in this world as well." The dowager gave a smile full of sorrow. "I am glad to have shared my story with all of you. Perhaps, before I go, I should write them into memoirs. I want my grandchildren to know of Curilla the General, not just Curilla the One-Eyed Queen."

* * *

A few weeks later, the finished portrait was hung with much fanfare in the Great Hall of Chateau d'Oraguille. The fire ore that was used in the painting to illustrate her brilliant red hair at sunset made it so that the painting seemed to glow. Tompa-Tumpa's name would surely be enshrined in history for this portrait.

"Good job," Angelica said, patting the Tarutaru on the head. "We have already been asked to do our next work, the President of Bastok's wife and children."

"Somehow, I don'taru think we'll hear such a good story-wory from them."

"Everyone has a story to tell," Angelica said firmly. "As a portrait artist, you need to listen with your eyes, much as Queen Curilla learned to see with her heart."