Author's note will be below. For now just enjoy!

Epilogue: The Lady of the Lake

Three Years Later

Aisling closed her eyes and allowed the forest to engulf her. The soft sounds of the wind shaking the green leaves and the calm rustling of small game through the underbrush told her as clearly as if she'd Seen it that no threat lurked nearby. She took a deep breath and drank in the healthy scents of earth and wildflowers and water from the creek that gurgled nearby. As she'd been so carefully taught, she catalogued each scent and sound, until the whole of what existed around her was firm enough in her mind that the slightest shift in the weather or tiniest movement of an animal would catch her attention.

Only then, when she nearly felt a part of the forest itself, did she allow herself to open her eyes and push silently to her feet with the aid of her oak staff. She leaned on it for a moment as she had ever since she'd healed enough from the ax blow to walk, allowing her stiff leg to ease before she tried to move again. Aisling took the free moment to softly trace the runes carved into the wood, feeling an even deeper calm settle over her as she did so.

Reaching the state of near dreaming that she had learned best allowed her gift to function freely, she smiled softly and stepped forward along the path that seemed to glimmer in and out of existence in front of her. She let her gift guide her for a few steps and then sighed and shook her head.

"No gift. I promised not to use my gift," she reminded herself in a whisper. She sighed again and let the path fade from view. "Try again, Aisling. Only use what he taught you."

She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again in an attempt to focus only on the task at hand. She glanced around her until she found the hidden signs of human passage that she'd known would have to be there. A soft green thread, almost indistinguishable from the greenery around it, was caught in a bush to her right. She plucked it off and wrapped it around her forefinger, pleased she'd found that first piece.

She continued on through the forest that way, stepping silently from one trail sign to the next however far down the hidden path that might be. These were not easy to find of course, and she knew very well that if her quarry had not been deliberately leaving a faint trail for her, she would never have found any trace at all. This was after all, Tristan's forte.

She smiled at the thought as she paused looking for her next breadcrumb. She'd had little choice in these lessons, but she hadn't particularly balked at them. Tristan enjoyed teaching, something that often surprised those who didn't know him well. Whether it was joining Dagonet in tossing Lucan up in the saddle with his first horse or adding his instruction to Galahad's on the archery field, he had a knack for explaining those things he knew. Granted, early on that might have only been due to him intimidating his students so badly they didn't dare to fail, but now most of the Wall City's new residents knew better. After all, most of them had seen the frankly adorable sight of him painstakingly teaching Bors' shy youngest daughter how properly to brush his massive warhorse. Aisling had a feeling that the younger Tristan's student, the more comfortable they both were. Few of the children knew to fear him like their parents did, and somehow it was the children who were always willing to look beyond Tristan or Dagonet's fearsome reputations and appearances to clamber into their laps with no regard for knightly dignity.

They were still knights, Tristan and his brothers, she mused. Though Briton was changing rapidly under Arthur and Guinevere's rule, some things remain constant. Arthur's closest companions and most trusted supporters were his five surviving knights. Others had petitioned to join their number and been accepted, but it was understood that those new warriors would never be held in quite the same level of esteem. His knights were his family, as close or closer to him than his new wife and father-in-law. Only his bright eyed little boy held a larger piece of his heart than his brothers. Aisling was only honored that she had become a part of that growing family.

Their family had grown by leaps and bounds, she thought with a smile as she strode silently through a grassy clearing, staff now slung behind her back as her leg had finally loosened. Galahad and Gawain had returned to Sarmatia after all, but their goal had been quite different than they had planned before the Battle of Badon Hill. Instead of making those distant plains their home, the youngest knights had sought out their families, and those of their lost brothers. All who desired it returned with them to Briton. Rome had not been pleased to lose the tithe of boys from those villages, but there had been little the once mighty empire could do.

So the families came. Bors had roared with delight at the sight of an uncle, aunt, and young cousins who had managed to escape Roman notice, and Dagonet had even laughed out loud at the sight of those cousins cooing over his golden haired foster son. Galahad's mother had survived and upon her arrival had taken to Vanora like long lost sisters. Gawain had found his grandfather, and while they had mourned the loss of Gaheris and Bedivere, his brothers, there was a joy in the golden haired knight that made him shine whenever he was near the old man.

He shone for another reason as well; though no one had asked it of them, the wandering knights had sought out Lancelot's family to tell them of his deeds and of his final act of courage. Lancelot's father and mother had chosen to remain upon the plains they'll loved so well, but his sister, a young woman with dark eyes and long dark curls had taken one look at Gawain and declared she'd follow them to Briton. Their first born boy had his mother's coloring and a wicked mischievous grin, and it was no surprise to his brothers or their wives that Gawain had named his son Lance.

A sound caught Aisling's attention and she paused, her mind pulled away from her thoughts. A Picti hunter stepped from the trees before her, his eyes wide and almost awed as they took in her face and the tattoos proclaiming her status.

"Lady," he said, bowing his head respectfully. He looked up at her almost hopefully, and she smiled softly. "May I have your blessing, Lady?"

Aisling hid her discomfort at the question, and instead nodded serenely. The hunter stepped up to her, and she laid her hand softly upon his forehead murmuring a blessing Merlin had taught her. The young man bowed his head again, smiling brightly, and then he melted back into the trees without a word. She sighed as she watched him go. This too had changed. Cerdic's pitiful slave of a Seer had become the exalted Lady of the Lake, or so the Picti bards were calling her after the battle on the ice which had brought her to Arthur. She didn't know how to handle the change, had actually reacted very badly the first time such a request had been made of her. Both Merlin and Tristan had tried to convince her that she was worthy of such status, but it was Agana who had convinced her to go along with it. Well… truthfully she had scolded and harped on Aisling fiercely about her responsibility to her people and how being a Seer meant caring for the present as well as the future and didn't her mother teach her better manners.

Roughly half the time, she was thrilled that the Sarmatian Seer Tristan remembered so fondly had decided to descend upon Galahad and Gawain and demand to join their little band of travelers on the way back to Briton. She was finally the teacher that Aisling had always needed, a Seer of equal strength and far greater skill than Aisling herself. Her control of her gift had grown by leaps and bounds under Agana's tutelage, and she could only be grateful for that aid. The other half of the time though, the cranky old woman could drive absolutely anyone to distraction, and her favorite target always seemed to be her young protégé.

Aisling shook her head at the direction of her thoughts and focused back on the task at hand. She was getting closer to her quarry now. The signs of Tristan's path through the forest were changing now, growing sweeter as he left tiny gifts behind for her. Here was a soft length of ribbon in the shade of green she preferred most; she smiled and plaited a small braid behind her ear and wrapped the ribbon around it. A little further was a hidden string of lovely wooden beads she guessed he must have carved in secret. She tied the string around her neck, stroking them softly with her fingertips. She'd study the details of each tiny animal later. Now, she simply wanted to find her lover.

She stepped forward again and slipped between two tall oak trees without rustling any of the leaves littered on the ground between them. She was close, surely had to be close. A shriek cut through the air, and she lifted her face to peer through the foliage. Her bright young hawk swooped past a break in the branches, the male all but dancing through the air. Clearly her lad had found his mate. Sure enough, after only a moment, Tristan's larger female drifted into view. Aisling smiled smugly to herself; Tristan hadn't quite planned that as well as perhaps he should have. With his lady circling above, there was no denying he was hidden near by.

Aisling returned her gaze to the forest floor and looked carefully for the next and final clues to her lover's whereabouts. A small flash of color caught her eye and she was moving toward it when a shudder moved softly down her spine, warning her of a vision creeping up on her. She turned to look over her shoulder and- a powerful young woman stings a bow 'her father's eyes, her mother's Sight' and fires on some future target none but her mother might see the warrior queen claims the girl as her sworn knight my lord my prince I love-

Another cry from the pair of hawks above her pulled Aisling from her glimpse of her yet-to-be-born daughter's future. She tucked it away in her heart and mind, cherished beside the visions of a peaceful eyed boy with a gift for healing who every animal in the forest would grow to trust.

It was only ever those two, son and daughter that haunted her mind now without her permission. Only those visions of a future so close to her own could creep in around her control. She welcomed them. She pressed a shaky hand to her stomach, pressing against her empty womb. As yet, there was no sign that either of their children would ever come into this world, but they would. Some day they would.

A strong hand slid down her arm to join hers at her waist, and she leaned against her lover's side as Tristan dropped a kiss upon the tribe markings on her cheek. She must have been closer to his hiding spot that she'd realized for him to choose to join her now. That or he'd merely grown impatient with the thought of her in sight but out of reach. He'd admitted once in the quiet darkness of their bed that he had waited 15 years for Agana's promise of the woman he would love to come into his life. Without her skin solid and real beneath his hands, he sometimes dreamed she would vanish again, out of sight into a world where he had no future and died at Cerdic's hands. He needed to touch her, he'd whispered. Aisling didn't mind; more often than not, his solace in her presence was also hers.

Tristan nuzzled her neck softly, the familiar rasp of his beard tickling a giggle from her.

"You did well, little one. Better than the last time." It was high praise from him, and she smiled broadly.

"Thank you for my gifts, love. They're beautiful." She glanced up in time to see that tease of a blush rush across his face and then vanish just as quickly.

"I'm glad." He nuzzled her again and then straightened. He cocked his head back the way she'd come, back toward the Wall. "We should go, eh?" Aisling nodded and took his hand, and with their mated pair still soaring overhead, they made their way home.

So, this has been a long wonderful journey guys! I started this story back in 2008, and after a lay off, a move to another city, and then a one year long hiatus (Tristan and Aisling apparently thought he was going to die… it took some convincing to allow the story to unfurl this way instead!) I was finally able to dive back in, and have now finally reached the end of this story. Aisling has become one of my favorite OCs ever, and I will be sorry to set her to the side now. Not to mention, this has officially become my most reviewed story ever. You guys have no idea how awesome of a feeling it is to know that so many people enjoyed what I wrote!

That said, I did want to give a brief explanation and apology to everyone who thought/hoped Lancelot was going to survive. I just couldn't save him guys; mostly because the reality is that Aisling can't save everyone. She's not a super hero; she's just human with a gift. I really sat down and thought about it, and if she'd somehow managed to save Lancelot too, even while nearly killing herself to save Tristan, she would have crossed that line in my mind from being a person to being pretty damned Sueish.

Plus, in the end, I really think this was Lancelot's choice. I, as a writer, felt like I'd be letting the character down by changing the fate he chose. So yeah, sorry guys, but the voice in my head made the final decision this time.

In any case, once again, thank every one so freaking much for sticking with me! I'll be spending most of my time in other fandoms for a while, trying to knock out some of my other WIPs, but I may wander back here eventually. Until then, I'd love it if you checked out some of the other fics in my archive, but if not, I'll still be glad to have met you here! *massive huggle*