Hey guys. Sorry it's been forever. Finals got in the way, I had like seven papers due in a row. Anyway, ahm back now, not giving up on this any time soon at all. Can't stop thinking of shit to put in here.

So, Warnings: Unbetaed. I've got a good chunk of Elyan interaction in this chapter. I'm in love with Adetomiwa...god, he's beautiful, I couldn't resist. This is really becoming a piece about Morgana, and she and Elyan grew up together to some degree, so I wanted to explore that. Oh, and a little of Gwaine on that warlock we all love (if you're a homophobe, stop reading) Not much else for warnings...Disclaimer: Merlin no be mine.

Thanks to all who've reviewed, PLEASE REVIEW! and enjoy the chapter

Have Been and Could Be

Supper came and went, along with Elyan's bloody display with the Southron soldiers after. He didn't have Gwaine's flare for humor, but he'd still become a favorite. Morgana watched him fight with a fast beating heart, her eyes still out of focus from the kiss. Sleeping a few hours had done her absolutely no good—in her dreams she could have sworn Gwaine's fingers had been there, stroking all her body's lines. A jolt ran through her neck and shoulder at the memory and she shrugged violently, as if to throw off a man whose hands weren't actually there.

Elyan, back to him. Just watch what's in front of you. She forced her eyes to follow Gwen's brother. The raucous jeers and shouts from the soldiers were more aggressive than they were when Gwaine fought, and Morgana could see why. Elyan was angry, ruthless and quick, brutal for one so small. The fire in his eyes she'd extinguished by torturing him had flared back in full force and he could take down men twice his size now.

Watching such raw power wasn't helping—it only served to remind Morgana of how little of it she had. But it was still a dance, a violent symphony of clang and clash, and anything that could occupy her vision was better than seeing Gwaine's brown eyes and broad chest every time she closed her eyes, seeing his black pupils widen even as he pushed her away…

With a roar that scraped at the walls, Elyan crashed his wooden sword into his opponent's back. Blood smeared all of his mouth and dripped into his eyelashes from a wound atop his head, but he was still standing.

Morgana assumed her customary smirk and began to clap. "Congratulations, Elyan," she called.

His eyes flashed up to her. Half of that fire was still fear when he looked at Morgana. She could see it, she knew it well…fear of a witch. Fear of a thing not human.

Apparently, the only response he had for a thing not human was to walk to the guards, wrists outstretched, ready to be dragged and shackled again.

Wait.

"Stop!" she commanded, standing abruptly from her throne. Elyan halted without looking at her and the guards paused. Her eyes narrowed. How did I not see that during the fight? "What are you wearing on your arm?" Morgana heard could hear how thin her voice came out.

Elyan blinked up at her, fear startled away by surprise. "I…I found it in our cell," he replied, glancing down at the simple, silver bracelet. "I've been wearing it ever since."

Morgana's eyebrows rose, and she said nothing until she turned her back. "Take him away."

There was paperwork to be done. Riders had been sent to all corners of the kingdoms with letters informing of Camelot's new sorceress-queen. By yesterday, almost every one of them had returned with a response and, even though Morgana was shocked she'd lasted long enough on the throne to receive them, she had no intention of revealing that by denying them attention.

The adjoining room in her bedchambers had been Gwen's—now it held a table-desk littered with parchment and various inks and waxes but, even though the maid only stayed the night every so often, it still smelled like lilacs. Strange to think she's gone, Morgana thought, a dull pain resting at the center of her ribcage. The lilac was lovely to have around. She collapsed into the solid chair.

Each kingdom added a certain flavor to their response. Queen Annis of Carleon's reply was curt, saying something to the effect of "Don't expect your rule to last." King Lot, Cenred's successor, hardly veiled his threats at all; Morgause had left him without an army, so he was no friend to Morgana. King Alined's oil almost dripped off the ink his words had been penned with, eager to be by her magical side.

The work was busying and useful—Gwaine hadn't entered Morgana's mind since she'd begun writing. By the time she finished, night deepened outside her window, but she couldn't sleep yet. The nap she'd taken before supper, while not restful, had done its damage.

She walked down to the dungeons, but this time took a different route.

Elyan was hunched over a sleeping Gaius, dabbing the old man's forehead with a torn corner of his shirt he dipped in the water left for him. Morgana saw his entire body tense when the click of her shoes echoed through the dungeon, but he didn't look up. "What do you want?" his reedy voice scratched out his throat.

She halted at the sound. Has he been giving all the water to Gaius? "I thought you should know your sister is dead," Morgana said, her words feeling strangely far away, as if someone else standing next to her spoke them instead.

His closed lips widened in a bitter smile. "You've lied about everything else, Morgana. I've got no reason to believe you now."

"Nevertheless, it's true," Morgana repeated. "Gwen is dead." Why do I care what they believe?

Elyan inhaled and his thinning chest rose and fell. No. He's not eating. "And her adultery?" he kept all his attention still on Gaius. "Have you come to take credit for that as well?"

"Do you think that was me?" Morgana asked, finding her otherwise dulled senses slightly curious at the idea. How many of them were fooled?

For the first time, Elyan paused what he was doing and she saw his fist twitch then release on the damp cloth of the shirt he'd torn. "Gwen's never made a rash decision in her life. She never really could, not while I was around…making mistakes was my role, and I guess she thought our father could only take so much. So when Lance came back…" Gaius stirred and Elyan stopped.

"Shhhh," he smoothed his hands over the old man's shoulder and forehead so gently that Gaius calmed instantly. For one wild moment, anger shot through Morgana at realizing he'd never been around to do that for Gwen. When Elyan next spoke, he lowered his voice.

"I never understood it. Arthur's a great man, a great king, but next to Lancelot…" he shook his head as if he could still see them both standing in front of him, "—anyone could tell who'd make the better husband, and it wasn't Arthur. I knew Gwen had both, that Lance still loved her, but..."

"But what?" Morgana's eyes were bright. She stared unblinkingly at Elyan, watching his eyes pass over memories as if she could see it all over again with him.

"…But, for whatever reason, she loved Arthur. When Lancelot came back from the dead for her, it should have made sense to me when I heard about her betrayal, but it didn't," he looked down at his feet. "Just didn't seem like something Gwen would do, but I guess I'm no one to begrudge her one mistake. So no," finally his eyes flickered, only a second, to Morgana's, "—no, I have no idea if that was you."

Morgana tilted her head to one side. "Are you afraid to look at me, Elyan?"

His mouth tightened as if to prevent a response from escaping his lips. Fury and something else—hurt—spread through Morgana's stomach and she knew her hands were trembling again. "Whether or not I controlled her," she tried to keep her voice steady even as her eyes burned, "…doesn't matter really, does it? Arthur will have either been engaged to an adulterous woman, or will have banished an innocent lover to die in the woods. Camelot is ruined either way. It's the end of an era, and good riddance to it."

Elyan's frame was stoic and still as a rock. As he looked up at Morgana, she saw the hard gloss of tears over his eyes that hid whatever fear he had of her. "Do you know the first thing I thought when Gwen was put under your employ all those years ago?" he demanded. Morgana's trembling hand froze, as if it had no life left in it to shake. "I thought thank god—she'll be taken care of. She'll be safe with her. I was glad someone better than me would be there, looking out for her."

A strangled laugh twisted out Morgana's throat. "Maybe you should have been there, then," she could still see Gwen, broken on her bed, turning away to hide her face. "She cried when you left."

"On the shoulder of the woman who tried to kill her six years later," He was quaking now.

Well," Morgana said quietly. "That's what you get for leaving you family behind. If you don't look out for your own, what happens next is your fault."

"Gwen was your own once, too," he backed away from her, but his eyes never moved.

"I know," the words escaped her mouth, "…I offered her an out when I first took the throne. I wanted her with me. She betrayed me anyway, for the man who let her father get killed."

"But Arthur didn't do the killing," Elyan's face was distorted by rage and tears now. "You say Gwen's dead," his voice broke, "…then he's not like you. You're a murderer. You were worth her betrayal."

"No," Morgana's irises brightened with gold and sent his back to the far wall.

He watched her wide-eyed. The backs of his wrists were pinned to the stone and she heard the silver bracelet clang. "You did it then," he choked out, "You killed her." Gaius began to cough, but Morgana didn't care.

"I killed her," her fingers clenched around the bars, knuckles white with straining bones, "—but I couldn't watch her die."

Gaius opened his eyes and slowly looked up in shock at the scene around him. Morgana flared her magic again and dropped Elyan's body to the floor with a thud—his eyes shut in pain, and she was glad…anything to rip her eyes away from the look on his face. It's emptiness, desperate and screaming to become something.

"You have a patient on your hands, Gaius," Morgana breathed as she turned around to walk away.

"Gwaine," she froze in her steps. Elyan's voice was ragged and scraped at her ears. "What've you done to Gwaine?"

It was a moment of weakness, but she didn't stop herself from saying it. "No more than he'd done to me."

"I thought you were finished for a while," his familiar voice sounded out before he was even in her line of vision. Ignoring the thrill in her spine was easy once she saw him—he was sitting in his usual spot on the ground, looking beautiful but about as exhausted as she felt. His eyes were hooded and tired.

"So did I," Morgana responded. Her mouth felt dry. At a loss, she sat down on the floor across from him, leaning against the opposite wall and facing his bars. "I've been to Elyan," she announced. "I told him that Gwen was killed."

His jaw tensed. "And was she?"

"Yes." It was easier to say the second time around.

After a silence, Gwaine's voice responded wry, bitter, and black. "Arthur and Merlin won't let you get away alive now."

"If they ever make it here, that is," Morgana said, equally bitterly. Suddenly an airy, unstable laugh left her throat. "You'd like that though, wouldn't you? Merlin, your rescuer, breaking though the guard, charging in here and saving you from the evil witch?"

"Mhm," Gwaine responded absently. Morgana was shocked out of words. The pause lasted. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Morgana," he said softly.

No. It doesn't. Hearing his voice drop that low only reminded her more of how it had rippled through her skin…how was that was only a few hours ago?

"Then you are in love with him," she felt like a ghost.

The skin around his warm eyes crinkled, and he looked like someone she would have wanted for a friend. A friend. Or a lover. Or someone who would smile like that at me. "I've never said it out loud before," Gwaine replied, looking at his hands.

Morgana watched him, feeling wrecked and broken. Tired.

She didn't want to fall asleep alone. She wanted to rest in the arms of someone like him. Someone who would know well enough to hate her, but still wouldn't say no.

It wasn't a good idea. It was just the only one she had. She closed her eyes and thought up to her room, on her table, where she'd set her full flask—

—and it appeared in her hand. Gwaine turned and his smile vanished into a gape. Morgana couldn't help but smirk as she held it out in front of him.

"Care for a drink?"