A/N: And so it ends. I started this story almost two years ago, and now it's over. It's really weird to think about, especially considering that even when I wasn't writing it, it was always in my head. I have a sequel planned, and by the time this epilogue is published, I should have started working on that (unless I've gotten wrapped up in shorts for TSWHH), and I plan to publish it by the two-year anniversary of when this story was published (but if I really have been working on it already, it may be up sooner.) Anyways, I've really enjoyed going along this story with all of you! It's definitely been a ride, and thank you for reading it along with me!
Disclaimer: See Ch. 1. The lyrics at the end are also not mine and belong to... Dreamworks? I guess?
.*.*.*.*.*.
They were married in the summer, on a warm, sunny day. Cymbeline wore a simple white cotton dress, made with a great deal of help from Vanora, with her clan tartan wrapped around her hips and her long curls free in the breeze, and Gawain thought she had never been more beautiful. Their eyes never left each other for long that day.
Morgause stood to the side with her granddaughter on her hip, watching proudly as her oldest son wed the child's mother. Beside Morgause, Pellinore stood with Lot in his arms, and Bedivere held Rhience on the other side of the small gathering. In addition to Cymbeline and Gawain's families, all of the other knights, Vanora's children, and Arthur and Guinevere and their sons were in attendance. Bors the Elder, looking as cranky as ever, led the ceremony in the Sarmatian tradition, with a few British twists—suggested, Morgause suspected, by Vanora and Branwyr—thrown in.
That night, in the open pavilion of the tavern, they celebrated late into the night. Once the children had been put to bed—in Morgause and Pellinore's care—Cymbeline didn't leave her husband's side. For most of the evening, while Dinadan and Olwyn sang and everyone drank entirely too much wine, Cymbeline sat on Gawain's lap, her head pillowed on his shoulder, one arm around his neck, and his arms around her waist. She was quiet as she played with his long hair, letting the thrum of his voice in his chest as he spoke and laughed with Galahad and his brothers resound through her head, lulling her into a sense of peace.
Eventually, he tucked her head under his chin and pulled her close, falling silent as the others began to drift home and Dinadan stopped singing, simply strumming gently on his harp.
"Are you sleeping?" Gawain murmured gently. Cymbeline offered a slight negative sound in response. "We should go," he whispered, kissing her on the forehead. "Bedivere and Lucan are staying in the barracks tonight."
"I know," she smiled, tilting her head back to look up at him. "Your mother and Pellinore have the babies, too."
Gawain laughed and kissed her again. "Come on," he grinned, slipping his arm under her knees and lifting her up as he stood. Ignoring the hoots and cheers of the other knights, he carried her off, heading for the infirmary.
"You can put me down, you know," Cymbeline giggled as Gawain struggled slightly to get up the stairs.
"I'm good," Gawain grunted, finally making it up to the top landing.
Laughing, Cymbeline reached out and opened the door so that Gawain could maneuver them through. Once inside, Gawain kicked the door shut behind them and headed for the bedroom in the back, where he finally set Cymbeline down on the floor. While Gawain paused to kick his shoes off, Cymbeline shut the bedroom door and unwrapped the tartan from her waist, tossing it to the side.
When Gawain turned back around, Cymbeline grabbed him by the belt and pulled him close. With a smirk, he lifted her up so that she could hook her legs around his waist and wrap her arms around his shoulders. Still smiling, she leaned down and kissed him softly. Gawain took a step back, propping her up against the wall as he deepened the kiss.
Cymbeline's hands slid down to grip his shirt and tug it up. Pressing her against the door with his hips, he raised his arms to help her pull the shirt over his head. When his arms came down, his hands went to her thighs, pushing the skirt of her dress up around her hips as their lips met again.
.*.*.*.*.*.
In the morning, Gawain woke first. Cymbeline was tucked up against his side, her back to him, her head pillowed on his arm. The sun streaming through the open window lit her hair on fire and played across her bare skin. He brushed his fingers over her bare shoulder and kissed her on the temple before wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. She made a soft sound before settling there.
Gawain could feel the long line of the scar across her back where it was pressed against his chest. He knew the location of every other scar on her body and what had caused them, but this was the one that scared him the most. A fraction deeper, and he wouldn't have found her standing that day on the field in front of the fort.
He heard the door to the main room of the apartment open and Lucan's voice sounded through the door to the bedroom, followed by Bedivere. Shortly after, he could hear the babbling of a baby in the other room as well.
"Cym," he whispered, shaking her gently. "Wake up."
"Hm?" Cymbeline murmured, shifting only slightly in his arms.
"They're back," Gawain whispered, brushing her hair back from her face.
"What?"
"They're back. Your cousins and the kids."
"Oh," Cymbeline groaned, rolling over to bury her face in his chest.
"Wake up," Gawain laughed, shaking her again. "You need to put something on. The babies will want you."
"Ugh," Cymbeline groaned loudly in protest as Gawain pulled his arm out from under her and sat up. He crawled over her to get out of the bed, pausing to kiss her, then pulled on his trousers from the night before. He tossed his shirt to Cymbeline and waited for her to slip it on before opening the door.
"Good morning!" Bedivere grinned cheekily. He stood at the table with Rhience in his arms; Bella and Lot were playing on the floor with Lucan. "Did you sleep well?"
Gawain rolled his eyes before scooping Bella up into his arms and kissing her on the cheek, then tickled her, earning peals of baby giggles in response. "Did you have a good night with your grandmother?" he asked, grinning at the girl.
"According to Morgause, they all slept well," Bedivere replied, even though the question hadn't been directed at him. "We stopped at Vanora's to get them breakfast before coming back here."
Gawain glanced back into the bedroom, where Cymbeline had laid back down on the bed and presumably fallen asleep. "Come on," he grinned at Bella. "Your mama doesn't want to wake up today. I think she needs some help." He took Rhience from Bedivere and carried the two babies into the bedroom, depositing on his wife's sleeping form.
Cymbeline cracked an eye open to look at the babies crawling over her. "And who is this?" she said, faking a grumpy voice as Gawain ducked back out for Lot. When he returned, he deposited the third baby on the bed, where Cymbeline had sat up to play with Bella and Rhience.
As he watched his wife play with their children, making faces and wiggling her fingers, Gawain felt his smile broaden. He knew then, in his heart, that he had made the right choice to come back to Britain—the right choice to stay in the first place, and the right choice to go to Rome and bring Cymbeline back. Sitting next to him were the products of a thousand right choices, some of which he had found himself doubting in the past, but no longer. He caught Bella as she crawled towards the edge of the bed, before she could fall, and settled her on his knee as Cymbeline wrapped the boys up in her arms and pulled them in close. She looked up at him with a smile that matched his own, her brown eyes full of love and laughter, and he leaned forward to kiss her one last time.
"I'm happy," she said softly as he pulled away.
"Me too," he grinned, touching the tip of his nose to hers. He looked around at the three chattering babies and smiled again. "Me too."
I'll swim and sail on savage seas,
With ne'er a fear of drowning,
And gladly ride the waves of life,
If you would marry me.
No scorching sun nor freezing cold
Will stop me on my journey,
If you will promise me your heart
And love me for eternity.
My dearest one, my darling dear,
Your mighty words astound me,
But I've no need for mighty deeds
When I feel your arms around me.
But I would bring you rings of gold,
I'd even sing you poetry!
And I would keep you from all harm
If you would stay beside me
I have no use for rings of gold,
I care not for your poetry,
I only want your hand to hold,
I only want you near me.
To love and kiss to sweetly hold,
For the dancing and the dreaming.
Through all life's sorrows and delights,
I'll keep your love inside me.
I'll swim and sail on savage seas
With never a fear of drowning,
And gladly ride the waves so white
If you will marry me!