A Week with a Prince

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕹𝖎𝖓𝖊

Just what does this girl have that the others don't? The knight mused as he watched 'Sir Geoffrey', looking so fragile and delicate under the bulk of the crossbow she carried on her back and the long sword attached to her belt. She was determined to keep some distance between them; he could feel it... Why? And what was she doing here in the first place?

It wasn't his place to find out, though, not even to ask himself such questions, ponder about her reasons, think of her at all... Whatever her whys and wherefores were to be here, alone with three men, they should not concern him. The girl was very young, but he wouldn't be surprised if she was promised to someone, about to be married. And if she was really related to Garreth of Warvick, then she must be from a good, high-positioned family too, a lady...

He should not talk to her anymore, he pledged, the... the whole of her was screaming, Hands off!

Right. Who was he kidding? He could not resist her. She was so... unexpected, and enchanting... and this might as well be his last adventure before...

Sighing and running his hand through his wayward black waves in desperation, he rode up to her again, brushing his leg against hers purposely this time-- he rather liked how her breath hitched, how bashfully she looked at him when it happened before.

This time, she did not look up at him, though. Her eyes were boring into the mist hovering like a curtain along the path, obliterating the forest, hiding the world from view.

The mist reminded Ginny of her dream, making her feel remorseful for having talked to Lancelot the way she had. As she felt his thigh touch hers again, making her want to sigh with pleasure at this simplest contact between them, she forced her eyes on Prince Arthur to remind herself of her duty. Just that... the prince's leg was now brushing against Garreth's, like Lancelot's against hers, and her cousin did not seem to mind in the least.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ginny closed her eyes. You only have to marry him, she told herself strictly. There... there doesn't have to be anything more between you two than the words you exchange at the altar and mutual respect.

"Is... anything the matter?" Lancelot asked, perceiving her inner turmoil and confusion. "Are you tired? Shall we rest for a while?"

"No, Sir Lancelot. Let us reach the river at least before we rest, our journey is long," she replied.

When she finally looked up at him again, she was smiling. Only a few shadows hiding deep in her jade green irises whispered that she wasn't as content as she pretended. Perplexed, Lancelot nodded, his lips curling up to mirror her smile.

"So... Is there any reason why we are to avoid Londinium and other large towns?" he asked, dropping their previous subject.

Ginny gulped and dropped her eyes, surprised by the question. She could not tell the knight about the awful reputation preceding his prince, could she?

"Is there any reason why he insists on visiting Aquae Sulis?" She nodded towards Prince Arthur, hoping to avoid Lancelot's question by asking another. "They are just... springs." The princess shrugged, smiling at the knight again, mischievously this time. "Does His Highness want to bathe?"

He could almost imagine her giggle... he was sure she would... but she remembered not to at the last moment, coughing instead. That gave Lancelot an excuse to pat her on the back gently, letting his hand linger until her horse, no doubt at her bidding, took a stride away from his.

"Of course he does," the knight replied nonchalantly, as if he had noticed nothing. "They are the only hot springs on our Isles. Have you been there before, Sir Geoffrey?"

The princess shook her head; her father had never let her travel much. She hardly knew her land, or the people for whose welfare she was giving herself to Prince Arthur, a man who would never care about her, not in the way that mattered to her, anyway.

Lancelot had noticed by now the frequent strange looks full of something very close to resentment the girl was shooting at his friend, but he did not understand them. Did she like him? Was she smitten by his grace, his ginger curls, and the fancy moustache, like all the girls? He shook his head; women were impossible to fathom.

"You have not replied to my question, Sir Geoffrey," he prompted.

Ginny sighed; there was no way around it then. "Rumour has it that Prince Arthur likes gambling, and drinking, and... " She looked in Lancelot's eyes, hoping that he would understand, and she would not have to continue.

"And you are to protect his moral excellence?" The knight chuckled. "What if he has changed since those rumours were true? I've known the prince my whole life, and I swear, Sir Geoffrey, he is not the same man he used to be when he was younger. He's about to be married in a month's time. An event like that forces a man to become more responsible, turns a boy into a man," he mused, his eyebrows drawing closer together in a pensive frown.

Ginny, not noticing his expression as she observed the prince, muttered, "Hmm, maybe you are right... he looks old, after all..."

"He does... what? He's only twenty-five, just like me, too young to be married!"

"Then what about our Princess Guinevere, who has to marry him? She is barely seventeen!"

Lancelot looked at her, nodding thoughtfully. "You are right. That's unfair."

Ginny nodded seriously, happy to have won this banter, until Lancelot spoke again a few moments later.

"I suppose that you are aware that your princess has quite the reputation, too."

"What?" Ginny asked. "That's not true. She has never done anything unsuitable."

"Well, I've heard that Princess Guinevere is spoiled and stubborn. That the poor King Leodegrance lets her do whatever she pleases because he can't handle her. When she is not at court, where she hardly ever appears, she is quite wild, a tomboy. And there is a cousin of hers whom she loves more than would fit a promised bride of Prince Arthur."

Ginny did not realise she was gaping at him until he, grinning, brought his hand under her chin, leaving it there a second too long, as if once that he touched her bare skin, he could not pull away.

She did, though. Longing to lean into his caress, she forced herself to move and look away from him to hide her burning cheeks.

"That's not true," Ginny declared sulkily, even though she knew that there was a grain, or maybe even two, of truth, wrapped up in that awful lot of lies.

"I believe you," Lancelot said seriously. "People... just like to talk."

"Thank you, Sir Lancelot. I... happen to know Princess Guinevere personally; our families are distantly related. She is not as bad as her reputation suggests." She looked in his eyes, hoping to read his thoughts there. Somehow, it was important that this man would not think badly of her.

The knight's blue eyes captured hers again, taking her breath away, just like the mist took away the world surrounding them.

"Do you... know the princess well, then?" Lancelot muttered, his deep voice wavering.

Ginny had to clear her throat before she dared to reply. "I... I believed I did... but... I don't."

"We're waiting for you up here, Lancelot!" Prince Arthur's voice reached them through the mist, shattering the magic of the moment.