Author's Note:

I know that in Part 1 I sort of attached the prologue to the story itself, but I think doing the same for the epilogue might just be a little too weird.  So here's a really short epilogue.  Thanks for reading, and have fun! By the way – I'm still open to bribery.

Epilogue and Miscellaneous

            "I do not believe one word of it," Drizzt said stubbornly.  Some time during the narrative he had seated himself on one of the chairs before the desk, though he sat in a very decorous manner, unlike the lazy grace exuding from Jarlaxle.

            "Oh really? I am so hurt," Jarlaxle winked, shifting the eyepatch for no apparent reason other than to make Drizzt frown and wonder why the hell he had done it.  "Which part of my graceful narrative makes you say that?"

            "Every single part of it," Drizzt enunciated with exaggerated precision.  "What makes you think that I would believe that my father, a paragon of the strength of personal will, could be driven insane by illusions?"

            "Strength of personal will?" Jarlaxle repeated, chuckling.  "You obviously have never seen him drunk before then."

            "I seriously doubt he has ever been drunk," Drizzt said coldly. 

            "And how long have you known him? Seriously, I mean." Jarlaxle took his feet off the table so that he could lean back in the chair without tipping the whole thing over.  "Twenty years? If you would compare that to how long I have known him…"

            "And your willingness and ability to twist the truth is common knowledge," Drizzt cut in, before Jarlaxle could elaborate on the intricacies of his interpersonal relationship with Zaknafein.

            "Ah, that is true," Jarlaxle smiled.  "It does tend to put a strain on my friendships."

            "So, where is Zaknafein now? You have delayed me long enough," Drizzt demanded, the familiar righteous indignation rising back into his expression.

            "In Calimport, of course," Jarlaxle said, enjoying Drizzt's obvious irritation.  "And very close, I must admit, considering how Bregan D'aerthe has decided to continue staying with Artemis Entreri's little business… and how he is, of course, still with the human even after these four months or so."

            "You still wish to perpetuate that… that… lie," Drizzt choked.  "How dare you slander the name of my father!"

            "Well… one has to give him some leeway, or he would eventually drive you off the brink," someone said pleasantly behind Drizzt, who whirled, astonished, seeing one of the hooded guards at the entrance walk in and slip off said hood to reveal the wickedly grinning countenance of his father.

            "Father!" Drizzt blinked.  "I… did not notice that…"

            "And you were right," Zaknafein continued mildly, "That rogue is lying between his teeth."

            "Zaknafein…" Jarlaxle chided with mock anger, an expression of pure mischief on his face.

            "I knew it!" Drizzt said triumphantly, with a glare at Jarlaxle.

            "Actually…" Zaknafein drawled, walking with silent grace around the table to Jarlaxle, and then sliding an arm with suggestive familiarity around Jarlaxle's shoulders, "Jarlaxle is my lover, not Entreri."

            Drizzt stared at the two of them with horror as Jarlaxle chuckled.  "Did you have to tell him this way?"

            "It had to emerge eventually," Zaknafein murmured, and lowered his head, as if to kiss Jarlaxle… and they both watched Drizzt's rapidly retreating back until it disappeared around the corner, the sound of a door slamming echoing down the corridors just moments after.  A short moment of silence – and the both of them burst into peals of laughter. 


Postscript: Hahahahahaha!



            "That was possibly one of your worst endings ever," Zaknafein commented, sitting cross-legged on the Author's bed.  Admittedly, through much nagging, he had conceded the boots, neatly placed down stairs where they belonged.   "And I maintain that I am not homosexual, damnit."

            "You must admit it was really funny," the Author smirked.  "Especially since through the 'epilogue' you can't really tell if you are with Jarlaxle, or really with Entreri, or which parts of the story were viable."

            "I am not…" Zaknafein muttered irritably, trailing off.  "You should just have asked Jarlaxle to do this.  I am sure he would be far more willing to pander to your strange fantasies."

            "That's only because no one wanted to bribe me to stop writing," the Author pointed out.

            "Who would spend that kind of money on you?" Zaknafein snorted.  "If they do not like it, they just would not read it."

            "That's true," the Author sighed. "Scratch that one scheme, then."

            "And… did you just change room?"

            "Well, we've got to move my base of operations to Melbourne now that I'm studying here," the Author commented, looking across the mess of toys, biscuit packets, sad bits of tissue, toys and pieces of paper.  "Is it any different?"

            "Other than you now have a roommate, not really," Zaknafein shrugged.  "You are still incredibly messy."

            "Sure, criticize my lifestyle."

            "There is not that much else to do, other than this stupid list of questions you asked me to read."

            "Well, hurry up then!"

            "I do not really see why.  Your current place does not even have the decency to have wine."

            "There's a bottle of Bailey's somewhere…"

            "You mean that alcoholic milk thing?" Zaknafein wrinkled his nose.  "You humans are just strange."

            "This coming from someone whose race makes mushrooms into everything."

            "Mushrooms taste good."

            "No they don't.  Okay, if you do this you can have that bottle of Chardonnay we were using for cooking.  It's white wine though."

            "Better than nothing," Zaknafein sighed.  "All right.  Why was this story so abruptly cut short?"

            "Because I actually got bored of it," the Author said blandly.  "It's fun for a while, then you just don't really see much point in continuing.  Serious stories are better."

            "This was not serious?"

            "Well… it wasn't meant to be, but somehow along the lines it took on a veneer of seriousness."

            "So… your next story?"

            "I'm thinking probably a sequel – yeah, I know that's irritating – to Second Chances, or something.  I haven't decided."

            "Good, do Second Chances," Zaknafein's agreement was a bit too enthusiastic.

            "Or I could write a lemon one-off slash 'fic involving you and Entreri," the Author grinned evilly.  "Or Jarlaxle."

            "No." Zaknafein said firmly.

            "Um.  Kimmuriel?"

            "Mind-readers." Zaknafein nearly spat out the word.  "And… why am I having this conversation with you?"

            "Because I'm too lazy to actually go and do some real work." The Author looked guiltily at her stack of assignments.  "Which… since there's not much else I can go on about this, I might as well start doing."

            "Chardonnay, right?"

            "Yeah, whatever.  Try not to break anything."