Camelot is crumbling, devouring itself, and all Gwen can do is watch. The tower she peers out of is far away from the battlefield, too far to hear the screams of the dying or to smell the rotting carcasses, but Gwen imagines that she can.
She feels the hum of magic behind her. "Have you come to gloat?"
"And if I have?" Morgana's footsteps are almost silent.
"Then I don't see why you have to bother me about it. I thought you had more fun tormenting Merlin." Gwen feels the tears start to rise within her. She chokes them back. "I suppose you're very proud of yourself."
"Of course." But there's a catch in Morgana's voice, and when Gwen looks back there's uncertainty on Morgana's face. For a moment she looks like the woman Gwen loved all those years ago, the woman who would wake up screaming and cling to Gwen like she was life itself. Gwen wonders if Morgana still wakes up screaming, and if there's anyone to comfort her.
"It's almost over."
"Yes," Morgana agrees. She steps towards Gwen, and despite all the years, the betrayal, and the anger, Gwen's heart begins to race from the closeness of her.
Gwen should scream, she should curse. She should hate this woman who has destroyed everything that Gwen loves. Part of her wants to. She feels weighed down by history, the history of Camelot and of Morgana's hatred. The history of the two of them.
"Stay." It is not a request. It's a queen giving an order.
Morgana pauses. "For how long?"
"Until the end."
Morgana nods. "All right. Until the end." She stands beside Gwen. It is an accident that their fingers brush but neither woman pulls away.
They stand there, barely touching, as they watch the world end.