A/N- Well I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say, as it is the last chptr after all. On a technical note, if anyone thought that Camille's parents went from hating each other to getting married real fast, you're right! I realized I missed posting an entire chapter about them getting to know eachother, etc. Erm, what to say…oh yeah, thanks so much to all my reviewers and readers you guys encouraged me to keep on going. This fic was kindof followed by controversy (some you know about, others you don't) but in the end everything turned out okay. I'll miss all of you and look for me to post another fic coming up soon, maybe a KA, maybe not :) For the last time, this is me, over and out.

Camille was rather annoyed. She understood and loved Lancelot for his devotion to her among other things, but she was not to be coddled. It wasn't his decision to leave that was causing her frustration, however much that irked her, she knew well enough to leave it alone, and it was her own inability to think of some brilliant manner in which she could convince him to go back. She had observed them all and had decided that they walked the knife's edge of uncertainty. All it would take was a little push to send them one way or another. Of course, being who she was, she decided that she would be the one giving the push. The only thing that remained was the pushing itself. She rode up beside him and realized that he was brooding. She sighed in further frustration at the fact that fate was obviously against her.

"Lancelot?" she asked tentatively,

"mmm?" he replied without turning his eyes towards hers

"Do you have any family left back at home?" His mouth drew in as he remembered that battered ragged scrap of a letter he had received years ago. It had been from his father, posted months before he had received it, informing him that the particularly harsh winter had wiped out most of the village, including his mother, sister, and other family, leaving only a handful of the grown men alive. It had been ten years ago and surely his father was dead by now too. He had never been sure exactly how he could have stood to look at his father again, were he to be alive, it would make him feel too much a coward.

"No" he answered softly

"Lancelot…where are we going to go…what are we going to do" she prodded gently. It was his turn to sigh and he did so; loudly. She felt the faintest of victory pangs when a few of the others began to watch her out of the corners of their eyes. She sensed that this was a question most of them faced and had avoided answering. Suddenly his shoulders slumped and the caravan ground to slow halt as if by itself. Tristran looked down at his bird and clucked to it.

"You're free" he intoned solemnly and thrust out his arm, allowing it to take flight. It circled and let out a piercing call before flying away. Tristran raised his head and met the glances of his fellows individually. Lancelot finally turned to meet Camille's eyes.

"Is this what you want?" his voice was low with emotion, and his deep chocolate eyes were almost mesmerizing in their intensity. She shook her head and smiled sadly

"What I want is of no consequence, you must follow your heart as I have followed mine." She held up her hand as he went to speak

"You need only to know that I will follow you wherever yours takes you." He watched her for a long moment, so long it reminded her, poignantly, of a similar stare, the premise under which she had met him. Lancelot turned to meet Tristran's eyes, nodded, then turned back to Camille. His whole form seemed to lift as if great weight had been removed. He gave her a smile so pure it dazzled her senses. He bent forward and she met his lips halfway in a passionate embrace. When they pulled away she laughed, breathless and said

"I thought you'd never see it my way". He grinned back and the Sarmatian knights, and Camille, turned back towards battle. They stopped a mile or so from the fortress to don their battle armor and she took the opportunity to put on her own version of a personal crest. She sat cross-legged behind her horse and pulled out a tiny brush, three vials, a dark stick of something, her canteen, and a circle of steel, polished mirror bright. She pulled out the simple twist in her hair combed it with her fingers and went to work. When she emerged from her makeshift dressing room Lancelot's jaw dropped. She looked positively barbaric. Her hair was woven into a complex crown of braids, and then brushed with powdered mica., its glory only to be eclipsed by the shine of a paste of the same mica applied in elaborate swirling curlicues on her face , framing her eyes, which, lined with black kohl and lashes blackened with soot, were huge and glittered with their own, internal light. When the sun hit her she looked like some ancient goddess, all silver shine, burnished chocolate hair, and glowing green and brown eyes.

"Where did you learn to do THAT." Asked Gawain his eyebrows high. She smirked

"A trick I learned in Rome"

"Let's get going," advised Lancelot, grinning again. They reached the fortress and galloped on, to the hill where Arthur stood alone holding his standard. Camille reached out a hand and brushed Lancelot's arm, blew him a kiss, then split off, to join Gwenivere and her Woads. He watched her go but then reached Arthur. The two friends smiled and turned to watch as she joined the Britons. Lancelot noted that Arthur's eyes dwelt on Gwenivere, who's own blue battle markings were similar but unique from Camille's. They both turned again as the gate was opened and the first wave of Saxons crept in looking for blood. Camille dismounted and stood beside the taller Celtic woman. Gwenivere smiled at her then gave the signal to raise the bows. Concentrating, she aimed for the large group of men then let fly. Her arrow was followed by hundreds of others as the battle began.

All too soon, the bulk of the Saxon army and the Briton one two, charged towards the field of Badon hill. Camille rode, a solitary horsewoman among the Woads but this difference was lost to her as her mind focused on the task at hand. Lancelot and the knights sliced through the foot soldiers in their path, leaving behind a bloody wake. One by one however, they were unhorsed and landed, some injured to fight again. Camille felt a passing arrow slice her cheek and the blood began to flow. Distracted, her head whipped around and she failed to see the Saxon at her side, who reached up and pulled her from the horse. She fell with a yell, but her sword was already out in midair, and she cursed as his body fell on hers. Gwenivere shoved it aside and pulled her off, dispatching a man behind them.

"Let's go" Camille said, her voice steel. She nodded and they fought back to back, trying to get to the leaders. Gwenivere broke first to challenge a bear of a man who was the third in command. Camille drew her other sword and measured the mettle of the man who rushed her. From across the field, Lancelot drove his right sword through his opponent and looked up. Camille was a whirling dervish with her twin weapons and was close to finishing her opponent. Gwenivere was fighting Cynric, the son of the Saxon chief. A split second later she fell back stunned and barely avoided his next thrust. Lancelot's eyes flicked to Arthur and back to Camille. Arthur was thoroughly engaged and hadn't noticed her plight, Camille looked up suddenly and their eyes met across the battlefield even as he raced across to save Gwenivere, who looked up at the man standing over her, knowing she could not escape his weapon this time. She closed her eyes as his blade plunged down, but it was met with a clang as Lancelot arrived and flung his other arm in an arc towards Cynric's head. Camille saw and turned to kill her opponent. As she raised her blades, his swept out one more time, severing the chain where the ring hung It fell in a slow arc and thudded to the ground. As Camille continued on to her next opponent, Gwenivere scooped it up, narrowly avoiding the thrust of a battle-axe, knowing how much it meant to her friend. Far from them, Tristran fell, mortally wounded by Cerdic, the Saxon chief. Arthur saw and roared in fury as he finished off the brave knight. Cynric, desperate to forestall Lancelot, whom he recognized as a superior warrior, clubbed him in the face with his round shield, sending the Sarmatian reeling backwards. A foot soldier intervened and Lancelot dispatched him then looked up to Cynric who grinned, holding a cross bow. Camille, who was fighting her way toward him screamed

"NO!" as he released the trigger, sending the arrow thudding into Lancelot's heart. He cried out in rage and let fly his sword, which hit Cyric in the chest, ending his laughter forever. She reached him and dropped her swords for one critical moment, looking at him. A man rushed in front of her and thrust a sword deep into her belly then yanked it out. She looked stunned before dropping to her knees next to Lancelot.

"No" he whispered.

"Lancelot" she cried, beginning to sob as her blood gushed from the wound. Her tears fell on his face and she ran her hand across his forehead sobbing

"No, NO, NO!" She cradled his head and he met her eyes one last time as he forced out the words

"I…I…love" before he could finish, his head slumped back and his eyes dulled in death. Her mouth opened slightly and she shook her head slowly before crumpling forward, her head resting on his chest, one hand cradling his head, the other pressed over his heart, as if she could save him, dead.

Many years later

Arthur sat straight up in bed, breathing hard. He had dreamed, and he rose, donning a robe. From the bed Gwenivere stirred and asked drowsily

"Arthur? What is it?" her face was shadowed and her snow-white hair pooled around her lined face like moonlight

"Nothing" he responded softly, but even as he did a shiver coursed through his shoulders. What could it mean that after so many years of peace and golden civilization his friend appear to him in his dreams? Nevertheless, peace or no, Lancelot had appeared, with Camille, and they had smiled upon him. He remembered with fondness those days in which he had ridden tall with all of his knights, riding strong and sure, dazzling the womenfolk with their charm. He almost chuckled, but the smile faded slowly.

"Arthur my truest friend...tomorrow at dawn...seek me at my grave" his friend had said, Running towards them he reached them and held out a hand Camille had smiled and he touched her cheek in awe, for she was as beautiful as she had been when he had first seen her on that fateful ride, her face and body unmarred by the wounds and blood that had scarred her in that last battle. Lancelot too possessed a beauty and charm that was nearly inhuman.

"My friends, my friends!" he had cried and tried to embrace them.

"Tomorrow" Camille whispered and cupped his cheek as Lancelot pressed his hand. As he reached out to touch them, they smiled one last time, and Arthur found himself embracing nothing; they had faded away into the nothingness of sudden wakefulness.

He wrapped his arms around his torso, which once hard and muscular was thin and bony, a testimony to the long years he had seen. As he pulled aside a rough burlap curtain, he could see a sliver of gray beginning to creep over the rugged mountains. He dressed quickly and quietly; he would make this pilgrimage alone. Finally, donning thick leather slippers, he slipped past the curtain over the doorway and walked through the silent stone halls of the fortress. Upon reaching the stables he saddled a stallion, old and gentle, for long gone were his days of high-strung war chargers. He rode slowly and silently, through the early morning mist to the cemetery of the fallen knights. He had honored his friend's wish, cremating his body on a pyre of the ancients. Camille, with him in sleep, had shared his fate and their ashes had been put together into a beautiful golden urn. Unable to part completely with them, the ashes had been thrown to the wind, but the urn had been buried in the place of a body with a sword from each of the individual pairs, and the grave marked with the remaining weapons. A willow tree had sprouted behind it, over the grave itself and had grown huge and gnarled, it's trunks wrapping around each other like loving arms. He arrived and dismounted from the horse and stood before the grave. Some artist had added a polished marking stone and had inscribed something on it. It had been years since he had been able to bring himself to visit the final resting places of so many friends. Lancelot, Tristran, Dagonet, and more recently Gawain, Galahad, Bors, Vanora, and – he was sure, soon himself. He bent down stiffly, addressing the great tree as if it could speak with him

"Ahh my lord willow; see how you have grown in nearly eighty years…" he trailed off then whispered again, softly "eighty years…" he bent his head and rubbed his sleeve against the stone to read the inscription. When he read the first words a veil slipped across his eyes and suddenly, there they were. He pointed to the inscription and raised his eyes to hers

"Yes" she said smiling gently. Her voice was soft and ethereal, proof that she did not share his world

"My lullaby". He remembered her, on her deathbed, holding her lover, her tears washing away the blood and grime on his face. Lancelot stepped forward and offered him a hand, raising him

"Arthur, do not fear. Your peace will last beyond your lifetime and you will be remembered for all of time as the man who created the world you have so long dreamed of." He smiled with more than a hint of the charm that had made him such a rogue

"For ages they will speak of the art, the language, the peace…the women" he smiled again, and Arthur felt himself to be the man he had been of eighty years prior.

"This is our gift to you" whispered Camille, and Arthur saw himself go from a emaciated old man to a strong young one, keen of eye and sharp of wit. Lancelot and Camille turned and looking beyond him

A young girl appeared at the sight of the grave, which was now fully enclosed by the willow fronds like a curtain. The two swords, one of Camille's and one of Lancelot's still resided on the burial mound, remarkably untouched by rust or theft. She drew them solemnly and the vision shifted as Arthur watched her wielding them together as one against the forces of evil and greed, the final irrevocable binding of their love. The girl faded and was replaced by a boy, who joined the girl, drawing Excalibur from his own burial mound as the two new lovers stood together to once again vanquish the foes of Britain.

. The lovers that would be the future faded and his two friends reached their hands out to him.

"Come with us Arthur, come where you will be old no more" he reached for their hands but then stopped

"Gwen! Lancelot I cannot leave her!" But Lancelot had gone. Camille smiled sadly

"You and your knights have nothing to fear from me, Artorius Castus" these were her words upon revealing herself to them, so long ago.

"Arthur do not fear" she continued gently "Gwen is old as you are, she will be here soon." Torn, he turned his head to look back the castle where she slept. Tenderly, Camille took hold of his chin in her fingers and turned his head towards her "Arthur, believe me, she is not there"

"Where is she?" he cried. Camille turned and Arthur saw Lancelot approaching, holding Gwenivere in his ghostly arms. She looked contented and peaceful, still sleeping. Arthur smiled with joy. The peace they offered beckoned. Gwenivere woke and looked up into Lancelot's face,

"I dreamed you were here" he smiled down at her and set her gently on her feet where she crossed to join Arthur. Reaching into her nightdress she pulled out a leather pouch hanging from a thong around her neck. From the pouch she pulled the ring.

"I kept this from the battle in memory of you, but it does not belong to me and I must return it to it's rightful owner" Lancelot took the ring and put it on Camille's finger. She turned from him, held both hands out to Arthur and Gwenivere and smiled. She opened her mouth for one last song. As the melody flowed from her lips, the light grew around him and he drew himself up and stood tall as she sang her final lullaby

Sunlight is dying

My darling I'm crying

As I'm holding you here in my arms

Smile once more, and I'll give you my heart

We'll both ride together again

Forever more, by all I know, will I be here with you

Lay still, my love, I'll wipe my tears, lie still, no more nightmares

Arthur took her hands and she drew him into a world of light and music. Behind their shoulders he saw his companions, Gawain, Galahad, Tristran, Bors, and the others, he called their names with joy and looked to Gwenivere, her face returned to its youthful beauty, reaching for him, unafraid, and ready, to live on in eternity.