Guinevere came down the stairs into the courtyard, carefully holding up her long skirts. She caught Arthur's eye and shook her head. He sighed.

"No sign of her," she said as she came up to him between the hurrying servants and the knights in their scarlet capes. "None of the servants have seen her in the last hour, either."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," he answered as she straightened his crown. "They're here."

Soldiers dressed in the colors of Nemeth rode into the courtyard. One of them pronounced, "Queen Mithian of Nemeth and her consort, Prince Leon, Lord of Gedref!"

Guinevere and Arthur stepped forward, wreathed in smiles, as Mithian and Leon dismounted. Despite the formality of the herald, they all exchanged hugs.

"Of course you remember our son," Leon said, ushering forward a tall, handsome boy of fourteen.

"Of course!" Gwen exclaimed, extending her hand. Prince Steffan bent and kissed it courteously. "My goodness, you've grown since I saw you last!"

"Percival!" Leon exclaimed, seeing his old friend approaching. They shook hands, all smiles. "And can this possibly be little Ellie?" he added, reaching up and tapping her cheek. Ellie, a rosy-cheeked five-year-old with golden curls giggled from her high perch on her father's shoulders. "And Lily," he added, turning to Percival's wife and kissing her cheek. Lily held their six-month-old daughter, who was (mercifully) fast asleep through all the ruckus. Mithian and Lily exchanged greetings, and Leon turned back to Ellie. "Why, the last time I saw you, you were smaller than your little sister! You were no bigger than my little finger!"

Ellie giggled again. "You should see Laine! Daddy," she added, "where is Laine?"

"I don't know, Sweetie," Percival said, bouncing her slightly. "Ask your uncle."

"Uncle Gwaine!" Ellie called over. "Where's Laine?"

"King Gaheris and Queen Ynyra of Essetir," a herald announced, cutting off Gwaine before he could answer.

The monarchs of Albion exchanged greetings, and Gaheris introduced his fifteen-year-old son, Prince Gildas. "And where are my godsons?" Gaheris asked with a smile.

Elyan and Tirion stepped forward, all smiles. "Gaius! Gaheris!" Elyan called. His twin sons, eight years old, ran over when they saw their godfather holding presents. They took them with thanks, which turned into loud whoops when they discovered he had given them blunt practice swords. They immediately fell to fencing with them.

Queen Ynyra beckoned Elyan and Tirion's lovely fourteen-year-old daughter forward and also handed her a present: a beautifully embroidered shawl. "And something for Guenloie as well," she said.

Guena curtsied and thanked her prettily, her eyes shining at the beautiful gift, which she immediately wrapped around her shoulders.

"Ah! Merlin," Gaheris said, clasping his ally's arm. "It's good to see you. And Lady Sifa."

"This is our daughter, Nyneve," Sifa said, ushering forward their ten-year-old daughter. Nyneve had her mother's delicate beauty, with pale strawberry-blonde hair, gray eyes, and a light dusting of freckles on her father's fair skin. She curtsied shyly. "Today is her tenth birthday."

"Happy birthday, Nyneve!" Ynyra said, and Sifa ducked her head and blushed, smiling beautifully.

"And my mother, Hunith," Merlin added. Hunith, her hair still brown and her eyes still bright, curtsied.

"Lady Hunith is a mother to us all," Arthur said, giving her an affectionate smile. "Our Court Physician, of course, you know," he added, "and Sir Gwaine."

"Of course." Gaheris and Ynyra nodded to Anna and Gwaine.

"We would like to introduce our son to you," Gwaine said, "but unfortunately… we don't know where he is."

"Here, Father," a voice spoke up. The tone was rueful.

Everyone turned to see a girl and boy, twelve and fourteen, approaching across the courtyard. The girl's face was specked with mud, her gown absolutely brown. The boy was less muddy, but his boots and arms were generously spattered.

"What happened?" Gwen asked, then stopped herself. "Wait, I don't want to know."

"It was my fault," the girl said. "Laine told me not to. I didn't listen." She gave her friend a mischievous smile. "I never do."

"No. And then poor Laine has to get you outof trouble—again." King Gaheris and Queen Ynyra, may I introduce our scapegrace daughter, Aureliana."

The princess dropped an awkward curtsy. There was a strong resemblance between her, her mother, and Guena: Aureliana had slightly dusky skin and curling brown hair with threads of gold. If she hadn't been covered in mud, she would have been rather pretty. As it was, her state only served to emphasize by contrast her older cousin Guena's superior beauty and neatness.

"And Sir Gwaine and Lady Anwen's son, Gingalaine," Arthur continued.

Laine gave a bow every bit as polished as Prince Steffan's. "He'll break hearts someday," Ynyra murmured to Anna.

She laughed. "Yes, he inherited his father's looks," she agreed.

"And his mother's sense of responsibility," Gwaine grinned.

"For which we are all thankful," Arthur concluded. He looked over at his daughter. "Daily."

"Sir Ifor, Lord of Gwalchmei and Captain of the army of Camlann, and Lady Florence," the herald announced, and Gwaine and Anna stepped forward to greet their sister and brother-in-law.

More royal guests began to pour into the courtyard. Queen Annis, too old now to travel so far, had sent her daughter and heir, Princess Sioned. Lady Elena and her husband, Lord Nentres of Garlot and Gawant, arrived soon after. By this time it was beginning to grow dark, and everyone moved inside for the banquet.

"Friends! Kinsmen!" Arthur said, standing up at the head table. The merry conversations in the Hall fell silent. "Fifteen years ago, Albion was threatened with destruction. Foreign invaders swarmed our shores like locusts, threatening to overwhelm us. Many of our children do not know and cannot understand the terror that hung over us, the desperation of our position. But we won the day at Badon Hill: a victory that could only come through unity, through brotherhood. We fought, not for our petty and personal gain, but for the love of Albion. As a father," he said, smiling down the table at Aureliana, now presentable again, "I pray that my daughter may never know such a desperate time. But I promise myself every day that I will teach her the importance of peace and love, that if such a thing ever happens again—she will know how to combat it. Our children are the future of Albion." He raised his cup. "In commemoration of our fallen comrades—and to our children."

The Kings and Queens of Albion raised their cups, and the feast began.

It was a very merry affair, and the feast was quickly followed by dancing. The guests began to disperse themselves around the Hall, gathering in small groups to chat. As per tradition, Gwaine danced the first dance with Anna, and the second with Sir Raynelle, who led. Lily was watching Ellie, who was romping with Gaius and Gaheris, and Percival sat nearby, holding his tiny daughter gently in his giant arms and chatting with Elyan and Leon. Guena, who found her tomboyish cousin rather annoying, had been alternately talking with Prince Steffan and keeping an eye on her rambunctious little brothers. Aureliana, completely unbothered by this, was hatching some sort of plot nearby, with Nyneve and Laine as an audience. Laine argued with her earnestly, then managed to distract her by leading her over to Sir Raynelle. This was a wise move—Aureliana idolized Raynelle almost more than she did her father. Nyneve wandered back over to where her parents were sitting, and took up a spot beside her father's chair, her arms wrapped around his neck and his arm about her waist as he chatted with Arthur and Gaheris.

Sifa smiled at them both tenderly from a short distance away, and Gwen followed her gaze. "I wish Aureliana and Nyneve were better friends," the Queen commented softly. "But I'm afraid Liana's rowdiness and Nyneve's shyness don't predispose them to one another's company."

Arthur laughed loudly at one of Merlin's comments, drawing the ladies' attention. Sifa smiled. "Some friendship takes time to blossom," she answered. "I'm sure they'll come around someday."

"Oh, look!" Gwen exclaimed. "Elidir is here!" The two ladies moved to join Arthur and Merlin as Mordred's messenger advanced. Guinevere herself had commissioned Elidir to return Morgana's healing bracelet to her at the Isle of Avalon a few months after the Battle of Badon Hill, and Mordred had employed him as a messenger to Camelot ever since. Mordred and Kara visited their friends and liege at Camelot once every year or so, and communicated with them by letter at other times. Arthur had not heard direct word from Morgana since they had parted on the battlefield fifteen years ago, though Mordred occasionally told him how she was doing.

"Ah! News from our good friend Mordred," Arthur said as Elidir approached.

"Not Mordred, my lord," Elidir answered significantly. "This letter comes from the Lady Morgana."

They all stared at him as he held out the letter, sealed with green wax. Arthur took it from him and stared at the words written on the front.

"It's too Nyneve," he said blankly.

"What?" Merlin stood and took it from him, staring at the flowing letters. His daughter watched him in puzzlement.

Merlin broke open the seal. "To the next Dragonlord," he read slowly, "on the occasion of her tenth birthday." He reached in and pulled out a simple necklace: a small piece of highly-polished white wood, carved in the likeness of a dragon and hung on a narrow leather thong. "Aithusa," he murmured.

"What?"

He looked up. "It's a protection charm," he explained to Arthur. "It's carved from the wood of one of the sacred trees of Avalon." And it was in the shape of Aithusa—the white dragon, the symbol of innocence and of peace. Kilgarrah had belonged to the old years of strife, of hatred, of loss. Aithusa, too young to have inherited his prejudices, his hatreds, was as innocent as Nyneve, as Aureliana—as all their children. The hope of the future.

"Papa, may I write back to her?" Nyneve asked.

Merlin and Arthur exchanged looks, and Arthur nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Merlin answered.

"Is it possible it's cursed?" Gaheris asked cautiously, and Merlin smiled.

"No," he said, hanging the pendant around his daughter's neck. "The only magic in this is love."

The End.


AN: Thank you to everybody who stuck with this story. It is almost a hundred thousand words long!—certainly the single longest piece I've ever written. It was a blast to write, and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

A couple of notes: According to my calculations, Horsa and Hengist were born in approx. the year 427. They were given the isle of Thanet by Vortigern in 447. Arthur would then have been born in 464. According to Bede, the Battle of Badon took place in 491—in my story, Horsa would have been 64 and Arthur 27. Looking into the future according to my headcannon: According to the Annales Cambriae, the Battle of Camlann was in 537, when my Arthur would have been 73. The legend/history states that in the Battle of Badon the Britons kicked ass so hard that there was about a 70 year gap between attested Saxon leaders in Britain—they left Albion alone until well after Arthur was dead! Some early sources on the Battle of Camlann, such as the Welsh Triads and the Annales Cambriae, seem to imply that Medraut (Mordred) fought WITH Arthur instead of against him, and was killed in the same battle with him. So I choose to believe that Arthur and Gwen lived a good, long life together, and on his death at the Battle of Camlann, Merlin took the wounded Arthur to the Isle of Avalon, where Morgana put them both into a long enchanted sleep until Britain would need them again. Then Aureliana took her place as Queen of Camelot and Nyneve as the next Dragonlord. May their rule be long and prosperous.