As she walked her eyes scanned the congregation frantically. Some small part of her that had not been destroyed by thoughts of honor and duty still clung to the hope that HE would come. That HE would rescue her, prevent her from this rite that would forever ban their love. Yet she knew it was impossible. The rational part of her knew that HE would never come to claim her, just as HE had never come in the thousand of lifetimes before.

The Whistler had shown her that only last night. The never-ending cycle of life, death and rebirth moved in a continuous pattern for her, of a love discovered and cherished but forever denied. This lifetime had perhaps bought a little more adversity and struggle, a little more pain but the end result was always the same. She was destined for all time to give up her heart and soul in the fight to provide peace and justice to the people she served. Just as the moon circled in its monthly orb so nothing ever changed...

*****

The Previous Night…..

Buffy stared at the rain pouring down her bedroom window. The darkness of the night reflected in her mood. Tomorrow she would be wed, to a man she could not ever love. For a while she had deluded herself, she believed that she could give her heart to Riley. In the beginnings of their relationship she had experienced some measure of joy and pleasure that had led her to believe she was finally free from the misery of the past. But as she had come to know him, and his secret, she had realized that he was merely a pale imitation of the man who had taken her heart at sixteen. That the feelings he invoked were only because of the small similarities that he bore with HIM, dispite the marked contrast in physical appearance. His thin, blond, tanned looks at counterpart to...she could not think his name. To do so would be to open a flood of feelings that had been submerged, suppressed so that Freud himself would have a hard time uncovering them.

Turning she surveyed her room, barely recognizable from when she had first arrived in Sunnydale. When HE had left one of the first things she had done was to redecorate. The decor too much of a reminder of the times they had spent there together. Everything was new, her furniture, her bed, anything else had been packed away, including her favorite Mr. Gordo.

Her wedding dress lay on the bed, a glowing reminder in the darkness of the room of the event that would occur tomorrow. She knew that this marriage was her destiny, her duty. That their union would bring into being certain events that would be crucial in the fight against the darkness. Yet this fact was a cold comfort to her. What would be gained from the union would do little to warm her heart. If she took this step she would truly be alone.

She looked at the knife that lay on the dresser. How simple it would be to end it all. One swift cut and the pain would be gone, a new slayer called and she could finally rest. Her spirit, however tempted, would never take that as the way out. She had the heart of a warrior, a fighter to the end, she would continue to battle until the cause was won or she was defeated. For her there were no other options.

A slight tap at the door, caused her to jump startled from her reverie. " Hey Kid," Whistler spoke, sympathy evident in his voice. He knew how much this was costing her, he knew her sacrifice " You O.K?"

She smiled slightly. It reflected the oddness of her life that a demon was consoling her the night before her wedding.

"You ready for this " he asked concerned

" No " she answered truthfully, "would it really be so bad to just disappear, to let the other slayer marry him. It dosnt have to be me does it? All they need it the power of the slayer."

" Sorry kid, it has to be you, it is always you...you were born for this.perhaps.." With a soft sigh Whistler came to a decision. He would show her, the role she played in the scheme of things. It would not make it easier on her, but then when had fate ever given her a break. Perhaps if he showed her who she was, what she represented it would allow her some measure of peace.

He waved his hand in the air, creating elaborate shapes and symbols until a bright light reminiscent of the moon appeared on the floor " Look at the light Buffy and you will see your destiny."

"What ," she asked somewhat fearfully.

"You, Angel and Riley are old souls. You have been reborn thousands of times, this will allow you to see your previous incarnations. We both have had many names, most forgotten in the pages of history. But some of those names continues into Legend to this day. At one time I went by the name of Merlin and you were known as Guinevere.."

Whistler waved his hand in the air, creating elaborate shapes and symbols until a bright light reminiscent of the moon appeared on the floor " Look at the light Buffy and you will see your destiny " " What " she asked somewhat fearfully.

" You, Angel and Riley are old souls. You have been reborn thousands of times, this will allow you to see your previous incarnations. We both have had many names, most forgotten in the pages of history. But one of those names continues into Legend to this day. At one time I went by the name of Merlin and you were known as Guinevere.. "

The child Guinevere sat quietly reading by the dim light of the single candle. Normally she would have been out playing with the castle hounds or Garion the scullery boy but today was different. Today the castle, usually such a bustling and lively place was quiet and sombre. It seemed as if the very foundations and walls of Camelot itself were waiting, holding their breath for a event to occur.

While Guinevere was only seven, she was a bright, precocious child. Sensitive to those around her and her surroundings she had easily picked up on the strange vibrations within the air. For this reason she had retreated to the library to hide, immersing herself in the many books and parchments that were her fathers legacy.

With a loud creak the heavy oak door to the library entrance was thrust open

and Jamilia burst into the room. " There you are young miss " Guinevere’s

nurse exclaimed " you’ll be the death of me I swear. I have never known such

a child to get into as much mischief as you...by the Goddess look at the

state of you..we must make you presentable for your lady mother."

Guinevere found her hand taken in a firm grip as she was quickly herded towards the sleeping chambers. Her nurse moved frantically causing her to stumble on the uneven castle steps, her small legs pumping voraciously to keep up with the frenetic pace. It seemed to her that Jamilia was moving as if the sands of time were running out.

" What’s the matter Jay " she asked, conscious of the strangeness of her nurses behaviour. Usually Jamilia talked incessantly and yet today she seemed reticent to utter a single sound.

Jamilia ignored the question as she began searching through the cloth and fabrics that made up Guinevere day attire. " Where is your best dress ? " she asked, a high note of anxiety evident in her voice " quickly child your mother must see you today as the queen you are destined to become ".

Guinevere retrieved it from her storage box and scrambled into the red dress. Her mind worked quickly trying to ponder the need for this dress, the dress and colour that was a symbol of her status and wealth. Only those with Royal blood like herself could afford to wear clothes with such brightly coloured fabric. The dyes and cloth needed for such a dress being extravagantly expensive. She had only been allowed to wear it once before, at the wedding of her cousin Beatrice to one of the Kings of the southern regions. It had then been carefully placed away. Only a truly important occasion would necessitate the wearing of this dress again.

Grabbing a brush Jamilia hurriedly tried to bring order to Guinevere’s honey blond hair, pulling so hard that unbidden tears appeared in her hazel eyes. Apparently satisfied she again grabbed her hand, moving down the hall towards the chambers that belonged to her mother. " Go child " she said as they reached the doorway " do not keep your mother waiting " with a half sob she then turned and Guinevere watched in amazement as she fled down the narrow hallway.

Pushing hard on the heavy door Guinevere quietly entered the bedchamber trying to remember those skills in etiquette and decorum that her mother had tried so hard to instil in her. The room was brightly lit, over three dozen candles surrounding the four poster bed. The ladies that attended the queen, usually so bright and vibrant were kneeling to one side, tears trickling down their faces as they watched the young child enter the room.

Her mother lay in the large bed, breathing in shallow laboured gasps. The queen had always seemed to her to be the most beautiful woman in England and yet she now looked like one of the dead, her skin pale, almost skeletal. As she walked towards her mother Guinevere’s quick mind appraised and evaluated the situation. She knew instinctively that her mother was dying. That the brother which she had so desperately longed for had destroyed her. She also realised that her brother must have failed to survive since the crib beside the bed was empty.

Tentatively taking her mothers hand in hers she bravely raised her eyes to look into her face. With her mothers death, and no future male heir she was now destined to become Queen of Camelot. One day she would rule and protect the people of this land, just as her mother and grandmother had done before her. A silent look passed between woman and child, a million things never spoken, regretfully unsaid, but Guinevere heard them all the same. Rule wisely, rule justly, protect the innocent, fight for the cause of the righteous and destroy those who follow the path of evil. Then with a last gasping intake of air her mother departed from this world as the wail of the attendants filled the corridors and rooms of Camelot.

Guinevere walked slowly behind the procession of Kings, Earls and various dignitaries that had attended her mother, the queens funeral. Protocol and tradition required that she followed the men dispite being the closest relative. Her father was not in attendance, his attention required in the South of England to assist her cousins husband in a dispute over land. His duty lay there and while Guinevere understood that in his role as King he did not have time for personal grief she could not help but be disappointed that her father was not there to comfort her.

He was a wise and just man who ruled Camelot in fairness and peace. Preferring the quiet study of ancient text and knowledge to the sword and heat of battle. But the lands beyond Camelot’s realm were not as peaceful. England was in chaos, a divided country. Camelot was constantly under threat from those who gazed at its lush fertile land and accumulated wealth with envious eyes. The King, frequently engaged in battle with those who would take his land and his crown causing his absence from the castle and her life for months at a time.

As she looked out across the lake and the flaming pyre which carried her mothers body Guinevere tried to commit to memory the trees, flowers and essence that made up the land of Camelot. A messenger had arrived that morning bearing news of her fathers wishes. Tomorrow she and her nurse would set of for the Sanctuary, a place where the precepts of the old religion were still adhered to. There she would be safe, raised and trained in those skills which were essential for her role as Queen.

3 DAYS LATER

The journey towards the Sanctuary had been peaceful. Flanked by a squadron of soldiers Guinevere had relaxed dispite the constant danger that surrounded her. She was an obvious target for those who wished to gain supremacy over her father but the soldiers were well trained and the journey conducted in the height of secrecy. The rhythmic clinking of the footsoldiers chainmail and the soft snort of the horses created a melody that encouraged her weary eyes to drop.

The journey had been long but now, thankfully they were on the final stage and their destination would be reached by sundown. Her horse abruptly came to a stop causing her to jerk awake in fright. Seeing that the party were merely pausing to take advantage of the babbling river they had come to she gratefully slid from her horse and took the opportunity to stretch her legs.

" Jamilia " she called, coaxing her nurse away from the soldier she had been flirting indulgently with " I need to freshen up ". With a irritated look in her direction, quickly hidden, Jamilia began gathering those items necessary for the bathing of ladies of a certain status. Picking her way carefully along the rivers edge she led Guinevere away from the camp to find privacy for her young charge.

Guinevere plunged into the cold water with something close to ecstasy.

Splashing delightedly at the sensation of finally being clean.

" My lady...I’ve forgotten your clean dress...we must go back " Jamilia suddenly exclaimed.

" I’m not going anywhere Jay...you get it..I’m staying here " she said as she floated in the gentle current.

" I’m not leaving you "

" oh poppycock " Guinevere said waspishly " it only take a few moments. I will be perfectly alright..get it now"

" but..."

" Now Jay " she said imperiously reminding her nurse that while she may be the child, of the two her wishes were more important.

Guinevere continued floating for some minutes, idly watching the insects that hovered near the plants that covered the river bank. As the minutes grew longer she became impatient for the return of her nurse. Finally with an exclamation of disgust she exited, throwing on her dirty dress she turned towards the direction of the camp.

" Jay " she called as she neared the camp " if your still flirting..." Her words were greeted with silence. Puzzled Guinevere gazed around the now deserted camp site.Where had everyone disappeared too. The horses, soldiers, her nurse, all had disappeared leaving no trace that they had ever once been there. Growing more and more scared she darted around the campsite, frantically trying to uncover a trail or some explanation for their apparent disertion.

She found nothing and stood silently trying to steam her tears and calm the pounding within her heart. She heard the twig crack at the same time as she felt the presence of another within the area. Looking around she saw no place to hide, to shelter until she could ascertain whether this was friend or foe. With surprising agility she quickly began to scale a nearby oak tree looking for safety and camouflage within its branches.

A tall figure entered the clearing. He bent down looking at the ground intently, staring at the mud. She could not see his face, hidden as it was by the hood of his cloak. He was looking for something, somebody. Guinevere knew he was looking for her. A dozen thoughts and scenarios raced through her mind. She could stay hidden and wait until he left and hope to find her protectors or she could challenge him and force the information from him. The idea of stumbling around at night trying to find her people did not appeal. She was a queen, direct descendant of a race of warrior women and she would not cower in the dark. Without further thought or plan she leapt from her position high in the branches of the tree and descended on the figure below her.

He fell to the ground with a loud satisfying thud. Moving quickly she scrambled for a nearby rock raising it high over her head she brought it down sharply towards the figure. With lightening reflexes his hand snapped out and caught her small wrist, twisting till she let go of the intended weapon.

The figure laughed softly, seemingly amused at the attempt of her, a child to capture him. Twisting she sunk her teeth into his arm which only seemed to amuse him more. Moving abruptly he launched himself off the ground and back to his feet, towering above her small frame while still clinging to her arm. Guinevere drew back in fear, then, raising her chin proudly she prepared to meet whatever fate he had in store for her.

" Feisty arnt ya " he said in a soft melodic voice " don’t worry I wont bite ya back". He released her hand, bowing to her extravagantly while sweeping back the hood to reveal his face.

Guinevere stared stunned, he was quite simply the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. His hair was dark brown and hung past his shoulder in perfect curls, which she with her straight locks could never hope to attain. His eyes were also a deep brown hew, soft and warm. They were eyes to trust, eyes that contained his soul and Guinevere instinctively relaxed knowing she had nothing to fear from this man-child.

" Well my lady it seems you have lost you protectors..will you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you to the safety of the Sanctuary ". While he spoke with utmost sincerity Guinevere was left with the feeling that inside he was laughing at her and her predicament. It was a feeling she was unused to and one she did not like.

Raising herself to her full height she commanded imperiously " You may...but if your going to escort me it is only right and proper that you tell me your name ".

" Lancelot my lady " he said, once again bowing in her direction " but you.you can call me Anc!" Then with no regard for propriety or her wishes he lifted her, swinging her onto his strong shoulders before heading deeper into the forest.

More to come…….