A Week with a Prince

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

"Oh, the Sword. The mysterious Excalibur..." the bard said.

Ginny took another sip of her wine before she asked, "Why does a sword have a name?"

"Because it is not just any sword, it is the only Sword which can cut through steel, and stone, and it will only yield to, and let itself be wielded by the one and only man for whom it came to earth."

Ginny sighed. The one and only man. It was always about men, their arms and battles... She sighed again, but no one paid attention to her; her three companions were hanging on the bard's every word.

"What do you mean?" Lancelot asked. "Where did it come from then?"

"From the sky, of course, like a falling star..." The bard's fingers plucked the cords of his harp again absentmindedly, very softly this time. This story he reserved only for them. "Found and forged by the fairy folk, long before the Druids came to these isles, the meteorite iron was impregnated with their powerful magic, forced into a long, leaf-shaped blade, and attached to a hilt set with the most precious stones that can be found on earth. Combining the powers of the sky, the earth, and the fairies, it became a weapon worthy of the once and future king..."

Bored by the mens' talk, unimpressed by their excitement about a sword, the princess looked around the room. She caught Morag's eye, and when the girl motioned for Ginny to join her at the table where she, her brothers and a couple of their friends sat, she slipped from her seat and walked over to them. Soon she was so absorbed in a conversation with her new friend and her brothers-- fighting for her attention, trying to impress her, making her laugh-- that she didn't notice Lancelot's piercing gaze flickering between her and the four boys until he came to claim her the moment the bard left.

One look from his blue eyes was enough to make Ginny's breath catch and compel her to follow him back to their table. The bard was gone, but three new men, Andrew among them, were seated at the table, drinking their ale, while the prince dealt the cards. Ginny looked at Garreth, frowning, meaning to remind him that he was supposed to prevent this. But even before her cousin looked at her, Prince Arthur said, "Sit, my lady. I want to win my money back."

She looked at Sir Lancelot, but he only shrugged, smiling, and pulled her closer to him when she obeyed and sat down.

The prince did not win. She did. Grinning at the annoying, arrogant man, she refused to play again and pushed her mound of coins in front of the villagers sitting between her and Garreth, now surrounded by a semicircle of curious onlookers. Soon, Lancelot declared himself out, and Garreth and the other two, and finally it was only the prince against Andrew.

Does he really want to win against these poor people? Ginny frowned at the prince unhappily, then kicked him under the table when he did not acknowledge her silent reprimand. As Arthur was the man she would marry in a month's time, she surely had a say in how they would use this money.

The prince's confused look strayed to her, moved on to Lancelot and... then he lost.

Ginny giggled as he frowned at her, while Andrew sent Iseabail for another jug of ale.

Music started to play, not the plaintive, soft tunes of a bard's harp but proper, loud, cheerful songs, played by the village band.

Thank heavens for that, Ginny thought, accepting the arm of one of Iseabail's boys who came to ask for a dance, helping her escape the prince's angry looks and unhappy frowns.

She had never been so happy to dance. While she was obliged to attend her father's or Aunt Ealasaid's balls, she did not enjoy them. But now, dancing because she wanted to, and not because she was told to, was actually... thrilling. The princess kept looking towards their table, watching the men still sitting down and talking... She hoped that Sir Lancelot would finally get up...

Just why did they have to dance? He mused in the meantime. He didn't like dancing much, not even to proper music, at his father's court. He was a warrior, a dragon trainer, not a dancer... But, somehow, he could not stand the idea of the girl dancing with the men from the village, and with Iseabail's sons especially. She seemed to be getting on very well with those four boys and no wonder, they were as young as her... For the first time ever, he felt... old... But only until he stood in front of her, and she let him take her off the boy's arm. When their eyes met, everything was perfect, even dancing in a crowded village inn.

Myrddin watched his wards through the inn's window for a long time after he had left their table. He observed how Lancelot kept losing his money in a game of dice, Garreth looking at him indulgently, while Arthur danced with Guinevere. He saw the couple, never taking their eyes off each other, coming back to the table later, and teasing Lancelot about his bad luck. Finally they all stood up, Guinevere, tired and rosy-cheeked, leaning on Arthur's shoulder as they walked across the room; until he lifted her in his arms when they reached the staircase and carried her up.

Everything was going well. He would report to the kings... in the morning. This night, he would spend with his Ealasaid.

With a strange 'pop' resounding through the silence of the moonless night only stirred by the whisper of voices seeping through the walls of the cottage, the wizard was swallowed by a veil of thick, shimmering mist. When it dispersed moments later, he was gone.

Ginny had never enjoyed herself as much as tonight, with Sir Lancelot. Their eyes hardly left each other, they danced until the music stopped, then they walked back to their table and joined Garreth and Arthur again.

Seeing how much money the silly man-- the soon to be king!-- had lost, Ginny was torn between tears and laughter. In the end, she laughed, looking at him reprovingly. She would have to talk to Garreth; they mustn't let him come close to a village during their trip again...

"I see you are having fun, my lady," the prince scowled at her, then at his knight.

Ginny knew that their linked arms, her head on his shoulder, were hardly proper-- her cousin's frown had told her as much already-- but she didn't care tonight; Arthur himself was acting unsuitably.

Garreth, noticing the atmosphere thickening between the soon-to-be-married-couple, decided that it was better to send the two to bed before they could start arguing.

Taking a deep breath, concentrating on what he wanted to do, he looked first at the prince sitting at his side, then at Ginny.

"You are both tired. It's been a long day, you need to sleep..."

As on cue, Arthur yawned, and Ginny snuggled even closer into Lancelot, already half asleep.

The knight raised a questioning eyebrow at Garreth-- the words of the bard's song about a wizard's son flaring in his mind-- but Lady Gwendolyn's cousin only shook his head and shrugged, then helped his friend to his feet. The two men trailed behind Prince Arthur, who carried Ginny in his arms, up the rickety staircase, towards their bedrooms.