Epilogue

I close the door to the Coffee Shop and take a deep gulp of fresh air. Whenever I leave the shop, I can't get enough of it.

Fran is already waiting for me under the street lamp which stands exactly between the Antiques Shop where she is working and the Coffee Shop where I'm working.

Starting on our way home, we talk about the days we've had until she asks: "So – you're going to the theater then?"

I shake my head: "Not sure yet. Ellie mentioned she wanted to go, so maybe I have to work her shift."

She gives me a curious look: "Well, I'll go. Wouldn't miss the series 6 premiere for anything in the world."

I force myself to laugh and hope she'll drop the topic. And she does, only to start on something else I'm not quite comfortable talking about: "Did you have any more of your weird dreams lately?"

"You sound just like Doctor Bergmann", I sigh, "though his questions usually aren't so straight forward. - Yes, a few."

"What did Bergmann say about them?"

"He believes they are memories of my past which I'm suppressing. He tells me this is a very common thing happening to patients with amnesia and I shouldn't worry about them too much."

"Wouldn't it be good if your memory came back? Maybe the dreams are a first sign that it is returning?"

"I'm pretty sure these aren't memories, Fran."

"Why not?"

"Because... Remember that guy I told you about?"

"The good looking one with the hair and the beard and the muscles?"

I raise an eyebrow at her: "I never said anything about muscles."

She laughs: "That's how you made me imagine him."

"You make me sound like a lovestruck girl! Anyway – I think... I believe – well, I'm pretty sure he's a knight."

"A knight? A proper one, you mean?"

"Yes." I feel my face getting hot: "He has a coat and a sword. Sometimes at least. And then there's this other guy, giving orders, and a servant, and..."

I see she's looking at me incredulously and make a face: "Forget about it. It's ridiculous."

There's a tense silence between us until she tries to laugh it off: "You sure you don't want to see the new season of Merlin? Sounds exactly like your kind of thing."

"No, I'm absolutely sure I will not", I say and sound harsher than I had intended.

"Look, I'm sorry", I murmur, "it's just... I get a queer feeling when you talk about that series. I don't know why, but ever since they announced they would continue it, I have a bad feeling. No, that's not it. I feel... sad. And lonely, maybe? Can't explain it, really."

I stop talking because I'm on the verge of tears for no apparent reason.

Fran and I walk on in silence until we reach the corner where our ways home part.

She embraces me and then gives me a serious look: "Maybe that's something you should discuss with your shrink" I wince at the word, "but maybe you just have bad memories connected to the series. I'm sure he's right: Try not to worry about it. It's just another stupid series."

I shrug, but smile at her thankfully: "Thanks, Fran. See you tomorrow?"

"You still have to ask?" She laughs and then calls over her shoulder: "Bye!"


I have to hurry to the bus station, my thoughts still buzzing with Fran's approach to my problems with this stupid TV-series.

Maybe she's right.

It's been months since I woke up in a hospital bed without any knowledge about myself whatsoever, and though the doctors told me not to push myself too hard, and my family patiently explained again and again what I was like, where I worked, where I lived, how I was a person who liked living in the city, mixing with people and going to parties, I feel like they don't know me at all. Even my name sounds wrong still, despite all this time passing and all the sessions I've spent with Doctor Bergmann, always looking accusingly at me over his thick glasses, fingering his odd necklace, pursing his lips at me when I refuse to tell him how I'm feeling and what that particular dream was about. He thinks I'm not 'cooperative', but a fact is that I'm feeling much safer when I talk to Fran, a friend I found after all this happened and who only knew my "new" self, as my mum keeps calling it. Or kept calling it – we haven't talked much recently.

I turn my collar up against the cold wind and cross the street, still deep in thought. Looking up, I see another one of these big posters with the Merlin cast on them, saying "coming soon".

I've heard people talk excitedly about the upcoming premiere. The sixth season is supposed to have everything a proper show has to have after having been 'officially cancelled' for a year: The usual cast rejoining, a new villain to despise, lots of drama and heartbreak to endure, lots of unexpected tweaks, nice effects... – ever more reasons for affectionate fans (both new and old) to love it more with every episode.

As I heard only a few days ago, there's also talk of a new knight joining Camelot's ranks, a fact people are especially excited about since -

Suddenly I'm on the ground with my face up toward the sky. I can see a few stars, and the moon, but only for a moment before a cloud hides her bright light. A face appears in my vision, but it is strangely unfocused and blurry. Nothing is making sense. Why am I down here? A moment ago I was on the street, wasn't I?

Bits of frantic conversation reaches my ear:

"She came out of nowhere, not looking where she was going... I tried to stop but – Oh god, she is dead, isn't she? Did I kill her?"

"Someone call an ambulance!"

"Hold on, girl, hold on, help is on the way, you hear me...?"

A thought forces itself on me, and it's a very strange one, that much I do realise: Here we go again, then...


When I open my eyes again, I'm confused. I don't know where I am or how I got here. I remember... Well, I'm pretty sure I remember how I died. Again. I push the unbidden thought away. I learned that in one of Doctor Bergmann's sessions: "Sometimes you will have thoughts you don't know the source of. That's normal for people with amnesia. You can ignore them, and eventually, they will cease."

That's what he said, anyway.

I grope around in the dark, trying to find out where I am, but there's no indication whatsoever. I make a step forward, very slowly, my arms outstretched in case I hit a wall, but there's nothing. Another step. Nothing. Another step. Nothing. Another step. Noth – no. I do reach a wall. It feels uneven, cold and damp. I follow it along in the hope to find a light-switch, but instead I stumble over crude steps leading upwards. There's a gust of wind from behind. It's ice-cold.

Slowly, I go on, up the stairs, until I reach a wooden grate. It opens easily, and I continue upward.

Then I see light ahead, but it's strangely unsteady and has an unusual, yellowy-red tinge.

I also hear people talking. They have rough voices and seem to be only men.

When I'm able to see what lies ahead, I come to a dead stop – if I didn't know any better, I'd think I'm in a dungeon. Which is completely absurd. I was in the middle of a city, and nowhere near any building old enough to have a dungeon. I also have a feeling of... familiarity? Like I have been here before.

Which is utter nonsense. I've never even been to see any dungeon.

Maybe I'm having yet another creepy dream. At least this would explain the strange light: There are torches burning in holders on the wall.

While I keep staring, I hear steps coming closer and then a commanding voice calling out: "Who's there? Reveal yourself!"

When I keep quiet, there's the sound of a sword being unsheathed. I don't stop to remember why I know this sound and dash madly ahead, barely avoiding crashing into someone in my way. There's another staircase leading up which might be my way out of – whatever this strange place is. I'm halfway up the stairs when the door at the top opens.

I stop abruptly, my heart beating fast in my chest. I slide down the wall, shaking, and close my eyes, chanting: "This isn't real, I'm dreaming, this isn't real..."

When I feel someone touching my shoulder, I start screaming hysterically while keeping my eyes shut fast. It'll go away in a minute. It'll go away. Not real.

I raise my fists in defence nonetheless.

An incredulous voice asks: "Will?!"

My heart misses a beat and though I have no idea why, I open my eyes, only to stare into the face of the man of my dreams (the one with the hair and the beard and the muscles), looking at me with unbelievably wide eyes. I stop screaming out of surprise and stare back at him in disbelief.

"How do you – I mean when – Why – How?"

His eyes are full of tears, I realize, and I'm sure he means no harm, even though I don't know him. When I say nothing, he takes a step back and repeats: "Will? Are you all right?"

"Where am I?", I ask, my voice barely audible. The man, who does indeed wear a red cloak and has a sword, looks to the second guy who has come upstairs after me, a giant who is apparently made of muscles only, who only shrugs, his face concerned.

The first man turns back to me: "Do you know who I am? Please tell me you know who I am."

"...Who are you?", I ask, catching myself biting my lip nervously.

He closes his eyes and exhales loudly, looking heartbroken. I feel like I should comfort him, though I can't explain why.

The second knight extends his hand toward me to help me up: "My name's Percival, and this is -


Gwaine enters the room.

"Is it - ?", I ask excitedly.

"Not yet. But it won't be long now, or so they told me."

He sits down beside me: "Aren't you finished yet?", he asks, grinning.

I shake my head: "Writing down one's story takes it's time, you know."

He smirks, and then suggests: "But you won't write down the whole year that passed since then, will you? It's been pretty quiet, don't you agree?"

I snort: "Of course. I'll even write every excruciatingly boring detail down when I think it's important – and as this is my story, I'm the judge of what is and what isn't. Do it right or don't do it all, or so they say."

He looks at the page I am currently on and nods: "Well, you're definitely progressing fast. Last week we were..." His finger moves upward a few lines and stops where a thick drop of ink smears over the precious page: "Here."

"It's not so easy when you have to save the world every other day", I scold him, and he only laughs in answer.

"You like being a knight as much as I do", Gwaine states, playfully slapping my back as only men do (though I have yet to understand why they do so).

"Do you need me for anything?", I ask when he doesn't get up again.

"Not really. I just missed you."

"You have seen me this morning. We ate breakfast together, have you already forgotten? It was only an hour ago or so."

His face becomes solemn while he takes my hand: "When you came back I swore to myself I would never leave you out of my sight again."

I squeeze his hand knowingly. He thought me gone forever for almost three months, and when I came back again, it was a shock, not only for him, but for everyone else as well. I had died, and according to the changer-rules I should never be able to return.

Gwaine said he'd watched my body disappear while he had been in mid-sentence.

I don't really know how I came back here or why, but I do know that nothing every could make me happier than to be here – even though it still is dangerous and bad things tend to happen around Camelot's court. But that's just how life works, I gather. It would be boring otherwise, wouldn't it?

Gwaine looks down at our clasped hands: "Remember when we accompanied Elyan and Gwen to their fathers grave?"

I close my eyes and concentrate, searching my mind for the memory. When the council took away my power for good, my memory went with it. I can't remember much any more, especially about the worlds I've been to before, but since I came back here, I've become pretty good at conjuring up memories I had thought lost forever, though it gives me a headache most of the time, and sometimes the memories are fuzzy or incomplete.

I know now that my shrink Doctor Bergmann was one of the council's members employed to keep me from remembering. My powers wouldn't have come back, but it would've been painful, and they didn't want that to happen.

Maybe in the end the council was kinder than I gave them credit for.

I even remember actually agreeing to these actions – apparently it wasn't as unusual for a changer to become rogue as I had imagined, and this was normal procedure.

"I think so", I say after a while in which Gwaine patiently waited, and open my eyes again. "You poured your water skin over me, I wrestled you to the ground in revenge and definitely won the match... and wasn't Percival laughing at us?"

He nods and grins, his eyes distant: "That was when I first realised it."

"What?", I say teasingly, though I think I know exactly what he's talking about.

"That was when I knew I had completely fallen for you."

Smirking and blushing, I untangle my hand from his and take my pen up again: "I have to go on, now, or I'll never finish it. Begone, foul spirit! Go ahead and do some training! You'll need it."

Gwaine laughs and winks at me roguishly, but remains sitting by my side, a steadfast distraction.

After only a few words I lay the pen down again: "When will you ever learn to do as you're told? You are unbelievable!"

His smile widens: "No, I'm in love. Not quite the same thing."

A warm feeling bubbles up inside me and my faked stern expression is replaced by a smile just as wide as his. Just as I'm about to kiss him, the door to our chamber bursts open and Merlin rushes in, his face flushed with excitement and happiness: "It's a girl! It's a girl!"

While the warlock dashes out of the room again, undoubtedly to tell all the world about the royal baby girl, Gwaine pulls me closer and whispers in my ear: "Look at that – princess got herself a Princess!"

The end.


A/N: If you feel there's a question left unanswered in this last chapter (which really was all about Gwaine and Zoe, so that's quite possible), please PM me and I'll give you an answer. It's all sorted out – somehow, because this chapter was supposed to go slightly different. I think it's better this way, though.

I really can't believe I've just written the last chapter... feels like yesterday I started – though my computer states it was the 17.03.2016 – which is quite a long while ago, coming to think of it...


Thanks to all those who were with me from the beginning and followed along for the whole course of almost half a year. Thanks for your patience!

Of course, this also goes the other way round – thanks to all those of you who binge-read parts or all of this story: I noticed, and I'm quite impressed, because by now it does take a lot of time reading all of it!

You all made my work worthwhile.

Special thanks to my faithful reviewers – I couldn't have made it without your help and constant support! You can never, ever know how much your comments mean to me, every single one of them. Your interest and enthusiasm kept me going.

I'm sure there are other things I've been meaning to write in the last Author's note, but I don't really remember – I'm a little bit emotional right now.

One more thing, though: There's a certain song which influenced Gwaine's and Zoe's relationship considerably (actually this song is responsible for them happening at all...): It's called "Splendid" by Really Slow Motion, and for me, it is their personal hymn. You can listen to it on youtube, if you want to.

Thanks to you all...!

So... This really is the end then.

I certainly enjoyed writing the last few paragraphs: I can totally imagine Zoe and Gwaine sitting on a bench at a table in their quarter, as close together as they can, just being happy in each other's presence...