Endings are hard.

No warnings. Merlin isn't mine.

Thank you all so much for reading this, you guys. I hope this doesn't disappoint.

Have Been and Could Be: Epilogue

He was smiling so wide it had begun to hurt his jaw. Since the rest of his body had been bruised purple by Morgana's guards on the way out of the throne room the day before, hurt wasn't something he particularly needed more of at the moment.

When Percival and Leon found them in the cells, he forgave them instantly for forgetting that pint he'd been hoping for upon being released. Gaius was still breathing, and when Leon mentioned Gwen's name, Elyan buried his head into his shoulder and stained his armor with tears to hear she was alive.

The battle was almost won.

Gwaine felt strangely numb about that.

He knew better than to think it was over.

They all hobbled out through one of the lower passageways out the dungeon. Gwaine leaned on Leon and, when they reached the exit, the taste of fresh air was enough to waken all his other senses and remember what was happening and had happened.

"Merlin," he coughed out, turning to Leon and grasping his shoulder harder. "Where's Merlin?"

Leon moved Gwaine's straining hand. "He's alive," he said softly. "He went to find Morgana with Arthur and Gwen."

Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, and Morgana. It was not a combination of names that Gwaine wanted to hear in the same sentence or picture in the same room. "I have to go find them—" he got two steps away before he stumbled. Leon caught him by the arm.

"It's not your fight anymore, Gwaine," he cut off his protests. "We got you out of there. For now, you need to get some bandages on."

Gwaine grudgingly nodded, but only because he didn't have the strength to turn back and run. After seeing Morgana heal him, the Southrons had been furious enough to cut him up again themselves. Several of them were under the impression that she'd been fucking him, and he hadn't taken a beating that badly without being healed afterwards since he began training her. Now there was a certain speed at which he could to breath before his cracked ribs started reminding him they were cracked.

Aside from the pain, though, something still felt wrong.

CRASH.

The sound was dulled with distance, but it still shook with gravity. They whipped their heads back to the castle, but could see nothing there. Gwaine's throat let out something strangled. He knew what was wrong now. None of them could win. Not win the castle, not win the battle, but Merlin. Arthur. Gwen. Morgana. They were done for.

He had no idea how. But if the fight was to the death, Gwaine knew that not one of those four would walk out alive.

Percival recovered first. "Keep going," he growled.

Elyan shook his head wildly. "My sister's in there—"

Leon's voice was firm. "We have to move." Elyan quieted, and hope faded from his eyes. Gwaine didn't feel much differently. They limped on.

The makeshift camp lay over a hill, just before the edge of the woods. He dimly recognized some of the people tending to the wounded fighters as fellow tavern-goers, people from the lower town. Percival set him down on the grass and waved someone with a cloth over. Gwaine lied down on his back and felt them dab his skin with water almost as cool as magic, feeling as though it could somehow seep the purple color from his bruises. When next he opened his eyes, he felt well enough to sit up straight again.

"I knew I'd see you again soon," the voice broke over Gwaine like the water—it was everything in a voice he wanted to hear. He turned around to see Merlin, standing over him and smiling wide, and he almost couldn't believe his eyes. "No man of Morgana's could ever come close to killing you," Merlin said, looking almost proud.

Without saying a word, Gwaine was on his feet and grasping Merlin so tight in his arms that he seemed to start choking. "You're alright," he breathed.

"Yes, Gwaine," he felt a hand rub his bare, tingling back and there was a laugh in Merlin's voice. A tired laugh, but still a laugh. "I am."

Gwaine refused to let him go. "She didn't get to you."

The laugh was gone. "No. She didn't."

"You're all alright," Gwaine found himself nodding furiously at nothing. "All of you would have died if one of you died."

Merlin broke the embrace moved Gwaine back by his shoulders, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

His perfect blue eyes were searching. Gwaine felt frozen, and slowly shook his head. "I don't know. You're just here." The perfect blue eyes narrowed, and Gwaine didn't like it. They were too beautiful to be hidden by his eyelids. If Gwaine had his way, Merlin would never blink them at all.

It dawned on Gwaine that he was, quite possibly, losing his mind.

After all, Morgana was still out there.

Morgana.

"Gwaine?" Merlin's perfect, uncertain voice. "Maybe you should sit down…" he took his shoulder and arm and lowered him back to the ground.

Merlin's hands were always strong and careful. Gwaine was grateful of it because he was beginning to feel a little dizzy. Like the hills were shaking.

Morgana.

Thining about her while in Merlin's solid presence made the whole world before him seem unsteady.

His stare moved to the castle, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Merlin follow his gaze. They sat still, watching and listening to the few swords left on the parapet, clashing their way to the exits in hopes of escaping the remnants of the battle. "Is it over?" Gwaine asked finally.

Merlin nodded. "Helios is dead, and Morgana disappeared. They have nothing else to fight for."

Morgana.

Gwaine's lips moved, but they couldn't wrap around the name. He couldn't say it out loud.

Her sharp face flashed across his mind.

"Did she tell me the truth?" the question was out of Gwaine's mouth before it even occurred in his head. Merlin whipped his head around to face him. "Was she lying about all of it?"

The blue eyes weren't narrowed this time. They were wide and still. "What did she tell you?" Merlin asked slowly.

"That she would have drank the poison herself if you told her everything."

After a clanging pause, Merlin closed his eyes. The whole time, Gwaine stared at him, realizing that he'd always thought of Merlin as young. Even after he'd figured out how the servant kept secrets to himself, Gwaine had always seen him slight and delicate as his frame, and reckless as child. But the Merlin in front of him now, who leaned forward and inhaled slowly with eyes shut tight, wasn't young. He was ageless, timeless and tired.

"Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't," Merlin's voice echoed like it was hollow. "It can't matter anymore."

For a sharp second, Gwaine didn't recognize the man he was in love with or the world around them.

"Can't matter?" he repeated weakly.

Merlin's mouth tightened and he shook his head. "The second I let it matter is the second I'll hesitate, and she's done too much wrong to be allowed to live."

"Why does it have to be you who decides?" Gwaine asked. Merlin's startled eyes turned and studied him, as if trying to decipher whether the question was an accusation or not.

Gwaine wasn't sure, either.

Eventually, Merlin just smiled a sad smile, and he looked more like himself again. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Gwaine swallowed. The ground still felt like it was rolling beneath him. Without deciding to, he dropped his head to rest on Merlin's shoulder. It was more comfortable and less bony than it looked. More importantly, it was steadying, and when Merlin rested his own head on top of his, Gwaine felt a warmth in his chest that he wanted badly to last forever.

It didn't. Soon he felt cold.

In so many ways, the narrow, boxed-in cell made more sense. Open air was too much space for his scattered brain.

They sat there until the sounds of the swords finally died to a quiet on the castle wall, and Gwaine couldn't stay.

Resisting the urge to kiss Merlin's shoulder, he stood up slowly for the sake of his wobbly legs and walked away from the camp. He felt the blue eyes follow him, but stopped himself from turning back. The further away he got, the more everything hurt.

Back in the forest. I missed the forest.

Every breath she took was dry and short, and pain flooded her bones after each step she landed, but Morgana loved the forest. She hadn't been back in it since she took the throne. Maybe I belonged here. While she'd been living in her Escetir hovel, everything made a clear, single sense—take back Camelot, take back home. It wasn't until she succeeded locking herself in its stone that everything fell apart.

I should have stayed in the woods.

Mindlessly, Morgana kept walking. The battle was almost completely won by the time she'd ducked between the trees, and none of the soldiers camped outside the city walls caught sight of her. She'd been careful. Now she felt safe enough not to be. Her vision swam before her eyes and the blurred the dripping and fallen leaves around her in dizzying color. The ground was padded and crinkling beneath her tripping feet, and the air smelled fresh with bark and cloud.

She reached the base of a little hill and felt her legs buckle beneath her. Morgana didn't plan on dying, just resting. I left with my life. The castle can't have me anymore. She curled up against the slope and closed her too-bright eyes. The black of sleep wrapped her in something warm as a cocoon and she almost forgot completely about the blood pulsing from her opened ribcage.

Snap.

Twig. A twig.

Step.

Morgana couldn't open her eyes. Everything would hurt again if she did.

But someone was standing over her, on top of the next hill.

Red seeped into her vision, but she opened them.

Gwaine.

His face was harsh and drawn back. Morgana blinked and felt something fall from her eyes, absently recognizing them as tears from the pain. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, tried to say everything, but couldn't make a sound.

"What are you still doing here?" he demanded.

Morgana shook her head wildly, moving her lips only to feel the scratch of air in her throat. What happened to my voice?

His eyes glanced quickly over, landing on the red that dyed the leaves under her. Around his arm was a scrap of grey cloth, and she watched blankly as he ripped it off. He was bleeding too. Before she understood what he was doing, he threw it at her. The motion looked aggressive, as if he aimed a dagger at her. She scrambled backwards, horrified to find her back against the hill, afraid of the sticking blood that dripped from her dress now.

"Take it," he hissed.

She shook her head rapidly, staring. It was too far away to reach. Her head was swimming again.

"Morgana," she blinked. Her vision didn't straighten, but she could have sworn he sounded pleading. When she still didn't move, the next sound she could make out was soft pad of his footsteps, and his broad, unclear form came nearer and nearer to her. Even if she had a voice, she wasn't sure it would have the strength to scream. He'll kill me. He promised to, he promised he'd kill me…

"Stay still," his voice was a low growl. And his hands pressed the little cloth to her slashed skin, slowing the blood.

He's not killing me.

His eyes aren't blurry. I can see his eyes.

"You might be almost dead, Morgana," Gwaine's words came out in a rush and she barely registered them. His voice always sounded so nice. "But you'll have to keep walking. They're about to search the forest, they're looking for you."

All Morgana could do was cough. She looked frantically back at him, met his clear eyes. Why are you here?

He stared back at her then looked quickly away. "Get up," he grabbed her elbow and yanked her to her feet. Too fast, too fast! she tried to cry out, but only a squeak escaped her lips and the world fell away from her eyes in stars, star by colored star. She dropped heavily down and when she heard Gwaine swear she realized that those must have been his arms she fell into. They were warm. Here is nice, I think I'll stay here.

"Morgana, you have to leave," Gwaine urged again. "I…" she curled into him, wishing he'd stop talking, she was trying to sleep. "I don't know why I don't let you just die."

He was going to answer her question.

Morgana felt her ears perk up.

"Maybe you deserve to, but you didn't let me die," Gwaine said, his voice coming out fast and unstable. She froze. "You…you kept listening. You thought that you were a queen, so you could have killed me, but instead you kept listening. If you were already gone, I don't think you would have done that." Morgana frowned and her eyes started to sting again. She blinked them and turned to look up at Gwaine.

If I was already gone.

She let him slowly lift her upright.

I never was.

"I don't know what's happening here anymore," Gwaine finally breathed, with dry and red eyes, level with hers, "—but I'm sorry." He took her hands with one and used his other to clutch the cloth to her side.

Everything spun for a moment, but Morgana realized she was standing. She gasped and stared back at Gwaine. He looked exhausted. "I'm sorry you ended this way," he whispered.

Even if she had a voice, Morgana didn't know what to say.

She took one of her hands from Gwaine's and tapped the one on her side. He lifted it, and she got a hold of the now damp cloth and pressed it tight with her palm. She let him lead her a foot or two away from the hill before she let go and walked the painful steps herself.

I won't be able to make it very far. But I'm not dead yet.

So I owe it to him—to all of them—to try.

Morgana met Gwaine's eyes. For a moment, they just stood, stuck in the stare she knew so well by now. She felt a panic start to stir in her stomach—everything beyond the stare was unfamiliar territory now, how could she go anywhere without getting lost?

Thank you. Morgana nodded slowly at him, steadily as her chin could. Gwaine nodded back and started to climb back up the hill. She watched him, knowing she didn't need to ask what he would do. He'd find the knights. He'd kill her if she came near them again.

When Gwaine reached the top, he turned around and jerked his arm in something like a wave. Morgana memorized him, his sharp face, his glinting eyes, that twisting, unsure mouth, his jaw, shoulders and skin. Framed by the forest, instead of dungeon stone and metal, in him she saw all that had been and could be. She waved back.

He smiled oddly and disappeared behind the hill.

And Morgana kept walking until she collapsed, only to be awoken by a strange clicking purr and a flash of white scales. As she gaped at the tiny creature in front of her, that blinked its bulbous, curious eyes, she felt the pain of her wound seep away. It wasn't going to kill her.

This isn't over.

Maybe the dragon was wrong about me, after all.

The pearly wings skimmed across cloud, sun and sky. Morgana slowly smiled with the corner of her mouth and lifted herself off the ground.

The End.

Thank you StolenSouls, May Glenn, Wayward Queen, october27, bubzchoc, rawr52, merl7, QueenKordellia, tinylexie, SunnySmile13, ichoosemagic, Jaclynn, LadyDunla, EachPeachPearPlum, Deb and jazzmonkey and xXMistressMadHatterXx who've stuck with this pretty much from the beginning, all of you rock my socks off so. Freaking. Much.

I hope you guys loved this as much as I loved writing it. I rarely finish things, so this is something I'm proud of :)

If you all are ever bored or out of fics to read, I have a one-shot collection also up on my profile if you want to check it out. The next chapter should be up soon and that one will focus on Gwaine!

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I don't know how much I can say it, but again, thanks you guys.

3

-Barra.