A Week with a Prince

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕰𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

Arthur set the sleepy girl on her feet in front of her room and, quite reluctantly, let her cousin take care of her, while he took his friend off the boy's arm and dragged him into their room.

"You... are not... helping my reputation," he complained as he made Lancelot sit on his bed and pulled his boots off with difficulty.

"You never cared... and it was your idea to swap, anyway..." Sir Lancelot replied, falling back on the straw-filled mattress and starting to snore softly even before Arthur could reply.

It was true, he never did mind, until now... For some reason, he wished the girl knew the truth, and yet he couldn't tell her... What was the point in telling her who he really was, and that he would be married to a woman he had never met in four weeks and four days... when he could just enjoy the following four days with her, without thinking about his future, his happiness, his future happiness, which he had promised to sacrifice for his people. Why should he tell her anything if there was even just the slightest possibility that he was the one for whom Excalibur was meant... If he pulled that Sword from the stone, then he would have no reason to marry King Leodegrance's daughter.

The prince sat on his bed, face buried in his hands, thinking of all possible ways to back out from the hastily promised marriage honourably-- without offending his father's ally and causing, most likely, a war. If there were a way, then he could propose to this girl he met three days ago, whoever she was...

He looked up when Garreth returned. "How is she?"

"She's asleep and comfortable," Garreth said. But he didn't sound entirely convinced about it to Arthur.

"What is it, Warwick?" he asked, looking at the boy, his blue eyes compelling him to tell the truth.

Garreth sighed, "There is only a latch on the inside of her door, just like here. I couldn't lock it for her. And seeing how many men were, and still are downstairs, I worry that..."

Arthur nodded. He had noticed only too well all the looks Gwendolyn had attracted tonight.

"Leave our door ajar. Her room is exactly opposite; we will hear anyone who might pass by."

"Thank you." Garreth beamed at him, leaving the door open, then settling in his own bed.

It didn't take long before he, just like Lancelot, snored softly, leaving Arthur the only one still awake. But how could he sleep?! The prince jumped at every creak of the ancient wood of the staircase, of each scratch of a tree branch on their window pane. If he fell asleep, anyone could get into the girl's room...

Resigning on sleep, he stood up and wrapped himself in his warm travelling cloak before he left the room and closed the door. In two strides, he crossed the narrow, now perfectly dark corridor, reaching the girl's door guided by memory. He lay down across the threshold, blocking her door. It wasn't as comfortable as lying in his bed, but Arthur was sure that he would sleep much better here, knowing that if anyone would want to reach her, they would have to walk over his body.

As the sleep claimed him, slowly, gradually, his thoughts kept drifting back to the bard's song. Was Brice really Myrddin? He had the people guessed right? Rumours had it that the ancient wizard could shapeshift... The bard had known enough about Arthur and his best friend to make him wonder... Was  young Garreth of Warwick really Myrddin's son? That trick the boy had used to make the girl and Lancelot so sleepy all of a sudden, had it been magic?

And moreover... was Lady Gwendolyn a princess? Could she be... Guinevere? No, that was impossible. With only a few weeks to their wedding, that princess would be guarded at her father's castle by a small army of knights, surrounded by tutors and ladies-in-waiting, and not running around the countryside with unknown men... But she could well be some minor king's, or a duke's daughter, judging by the way she spoke and behaved... Whose? Lot's? Gorlois'? Ban's? Caerylon's?... Trying in vain to remember Warwick's family tree, Arthur finally fell asleep.

Ginny squealed with fright when her foot connected with something large, dark and soft lying in front of her door, in the corridor filled with pre-dawn darkness.

"Sir... Sir Lancelot..." she muttered, heart thrumming in her ears.

She recognized the knight the instant the door of her travelling companions' room opened and the prince and Garreth rushed out, golden, flickering light of the candles they carried spilling on her and the man who pulled himself to his feet in the meantime, and stood very close to her.

She giggled, realising how this situation must look to Garreth and Arthur.

"It's not what it seems," the princess and the knight said at the same time, looking at each other, wishing... that it was.

Ginny looked away from him, biting her lip. Appalled by her own thoughts, she explained, "I just wanted to say goodbye to Morag and the others before we leave."

"And I..." Arthur said, looking at Garreth, "I slept here, outside her door. After what we talked about last night, I thought it was safer."

"Thank you," Garreth said, rolling his eyes at Ginny imperceptibly, as if it was all her fault. "I see that you are ready, Gwendolyn. You can wait for us downstairs if you wish, we won't be long."

Ginny nodded and pushed her way past Arthur, standing still too close for her to think clearly, leaving the three men alone in the corridor as she vanished down the stairs.

"What do you think you are doing?!" Lancelot, brandishing his candle like a sword, muttered to his friend as they followed Garreth back into their room. "Have you lost your mind?"

The sun was just about to rise, streaking the brightening sky with gold, pink, and pale blue, when the four travellers walked outside, followed by the whole Iseabail's family.

The nights were already getting longer and cooler, Ginny thought wistfully as she drew a woollen cloak over her gambeson. The princess didn't like winters, they were long and rainy and she was expected to sit indoors and pass her days by doing things she did not like-- spinning, weaving, embroidering, listening to the gossip of her ladies-in-waiting. And she had no reason to hope that this would change once she was married.

Iseabail scattered her thoughts when she and Andrew, who brought Ginny her horse and passed her the reins, came to say goodbye.

Then it was Morag's turn. Ginny wrapped her in an embrace and whispered in her ear, "Should you ever find yourself close to Warwick Castle, seek Countess Ealasaid. Tell her that you know her son and Ginny. I'm sure she will tell you where to find me."

Morag nodded, her eyes wide and shiny with the prospect of adventure in the first light of the new day. She opened her mouth to thank her new friend, but before she could say anything, she was swept to the side by her four brothers, rushing towards the girls like a flood.

"Be careful on that road today, not all travellers are like us." Ginny giggled, blushing, as each of them pulled her in a quick embrace.

"It's not us today," one said, pulling her velvet hat off playfully.

"We take turns; it's the miller's family today," another one explained, laughing at seeing her trying to grab her hat from his brother, making her laugh too.

"Have a safe journey, Gwendolyn, and should you ever visit Wiltshire again..." the eldest and most serious said, snatching the hat from his sibling, ready to put it back on Ginny's head...

But Arthur was faster. In a blur of dark hair and cloak, he grabbed the hat and set it on her head, then his hands were on her waist, and she was in the saddle.

"We thank you for your hospitality," he said, bowing to Iseabail, her husband, and Morag, then looking seriously at each of the boys. He had had enough of them.

Ginny had to turn away to compose herself lest she would laugh. Was he... jealous?

The moment even Garreth and the red-haired knight said their goodbyes, they were off; Ginny and Arthur followed the two men along empty cobbled lanes, the echo of hoofbeats mingled with their horses' breaths rising like a mist towards the glowing sky.