Caeli's POV
Tristan and I got married in the spring after the Battle of Badon Hill. We, of course, stayed and helped Arthur and Dwyn build Camelot. Gawain, having finally given up on me, returned to his homeland and then came back to Camelot a year later with a wife. Galahad, having never left, found a nice woman and married. Bors and Vanora did eventually get married, name their now 12 children, and build a home just outside of Camelot.
The following spring, Tristan and I welcomed our first and only child into the world, a son we named Edmond after my father.
We lived out the rest of our days happily and never far from each other. We watched our son grow into a strong young man and a wise knight.
Legends truly are wonderful things, but I find that the truth is far beyond that of mere legend.
Dwyn's POV
Arthur and I were married in the autumn, when the leaves, grass, and trees had regrown and the leaves rained down, coloring the ground pastel as we stood outside.
We returned to the ruins of Kosak and built Camelot on its foundation, recreating the Kingdom I thought I'd lost forever, only now, I had a husband.
The villagers of Germanius and remaining knights, now the population of Camelot, unanimously voted Arthur the leader, and he and I were crowned King and Queen, although Arthur never forced me to wear anything I didn't want to, and allowed me my freedom, an additional luxury to his love I'd never before enjoyed.
The years prospered, and we had one daughter, whom we named Ceri, and Lucan, who we'd adopted in a sense.
And, well, the rest is history.
Years and years later, when our bodies were dust in the ground and Camelot in ruin, a wise man would write a proverb saying:
"Love is like war: easy to begin, hard to end."
For those of you who believe in Gwenevere and the dark ages riddled with pain and sorrow, this will not ring true in your ears.
But for those of you who now know what truly happened, and believe, you can look up and hear the beating of our hearts, and perhaps hear the whispered "I love you"'s of those forgotten souls floating through the air of today's modern world.
A speck of hope that the simple truths and trials of history may, indeed, repeat themselves.