DISCLAIMER: The story of King Arthur as portrayed in the 2004 Jerry Bruckheimer movie does not belong to me. I don't believe anyone can reasonably take credit for owning the myth, though.

All right, here we go, my first multi-chapter fanfiction that has some semblance of a plot. Big, scary, step to be taking, but thanks to a very persistent plotbunny and some encouragement from the lovely Homeric, I'll give it a shot. ) I unfortunately can't promise to update regularly – I'm a busy girl in real life, so new chapters might be sporadic. Nevertheless, I hope you'll like it enough to continue reading!

Music: Lee Holdridge – Finale (Mists of Avalon soundtrack)

Prologue

I have been called many things in the long years of my life: sister, lover, priestess, wise-woman, wife, mother. Each name and title has brought its own sorrows, its own joys. It all seems so long ago now as I walk up the familiar steps of Avalon's processional road.

This feeling of archaism, of living in an age one no longer belongs to, has been with me ever since I said my farewells to the children of Camelot. In all truth it is hardly appropriate any more to call them such: they are all adults now, some of them even having children of their own. But, in my eyes, they will always remain the young ones tugging at my skirts.

Despite all their years, many were still too young to understand why I had to leave. They asked me why I would not remain with them, my family, in the beautiful citadel we call our home. I explained to them I needed to see Avalon one last time before I died. Don't talk like that, they said. You'll come back, won't you?

I know in my heart that I will not. I am the only one who remains of my time; our work is done. A distant voice reminds me that we are only players in an ever-changing world, and I smile at the thought. We have played well, then. The children we raised have now taken over our duties as certain as the sun rises to replace the moon. They are the future, and one we can be proud of.

And so I heave myself up the steps, the wind toying with my veil as I remember a time when I would run all the way without breaking a sweat, laughing at my companion… I believe you spend too much time riding horses…

There will, without a doubt, come a time when I shall be called many more things, when centuries have passed and the tale will have changed so much only aspects of the truth shall remain. Minstrels will sing of the brave and bold Arthur, the king who was and king who shall be; but what will be said of his family, and the people he loved? Only time will tell.

I can feel them surround me as I glance over the final steps and behold the Circle in all its sunlit splendour. Ghosts of touches, whispers of well-known voices and glimpses of dearly beloved faces all aid me on my final ascension. It even seems the wind carries a song today… We will go home, we will go home…

What time will make of our story remains to be seen, but this, at least, is my tale: the tale of Niniane of Avalon, half-sister of Arthur the Once-and-Future-King, wife of a Knight of Sarmatia; but above all, the Lady of the Lake and the High Priestess of the Goddess on earth. It is a tale of hardship and of loss; a tale of war and peace; but above all, a tale of love in its many forms, and how that love proved strong enough to forge a kingdom.

And as I lay down my weary body at last on the green grass of the Tor, I remember it all.

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A/N: Reviews utterly make my day. No, really, they do.