A Week with a Prince

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝕰𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

"Gwen," a voice whispered, its owner's lips so close to her ear that his warm breath landing on her earlobe made her shiver. "Wake up."

Ginny shook her head. Smiling, keeping her eyes shut, she closed her hands into fists around the fabric of his shirt, determined to keep him at her side for a few more minutes. Forever.

He kissed her then, pulling her closer to him, making her sigh as she felt his hands, which had found their way under her shirt somehow, on her bare skin.

A tentative knock on the door, followed by the prince's voice echoing through the silence of the small room filled with the grey light of the early morning, made them pull apart.

"Hmm, Lancelot, I believe it would be better if Sir Garreth found you in your own bed when he wakes up, we do not need more snow on the roads..."

With a deep sigh, Sir Lancelot kissed Ginny one more time and asked her to get ready. Then he pulled his trousers and shoes on quickly, gathered the rest of his clothes, and followed his friend into the corridor.

The moment he was out, the princess buried her face into the pillow, her mind making her relive the events of the previous night. She knew she should feel ashamed of herself, of her unsuitable, unladylike behaviour, but she didn't. She... loved Sir Lancelot and in love... everything was proper and honourable, she mused, even bathing in a hot water pool or sharing a bed...

She pulled herself up and got dressed, wearing her travelling clothes again. Her tightly wound crown of hair survived the night quite well, only a few russet strands got loose, and now floated freely around her face. There was no point in wasting time with her hairdo only to keep it hidden under her hat. Pulling the hat on, she collected all her things, careful not to leave anything behind.

Just as she was exiting the room, Garreth appeared in front of her, taking her bag from her hands.

"Did you have a good night?" he asked, observing her intently, making her blush.

"I did. You?" she replied and not waiting for his answer strode down the gloomy corridor away from him, walking right into her knight who just walked out of the other room.

Her breath caught, and Ginny wondered briefly why his closeness always had this effect on her before she laid her hand on his smooth cheek. He had shaved, unlike Garreth and the prince, who looked more like the hairy Saxons each day.

She smiled and he pressed his lips to hers, even as Prince Arthur called from behind him, his voice sounding bemused and appalled at the same time, "Oh come on you two, we really should reach Tintagel by sunset today, but we won't get anywhere unless you stop this..." The prince trailed off, waving his hand at them, then wrapped his arm over Garreth's shoulders and led him down the stairs, leaving Ginny and her knight, holding hands, to follow.

They decided to have breakfast in the inn, then ride as far as they could without a break. The innkeeper, serving their meal personally, asked where they were headed, and Garreth explained their destination to him.

"I tried to pull the Sword from the stone myself when I was a young lad, my father took me to Tintagel," he smiled at the four travellers wistfully. "But those were different times..."

The men exchanged puzzled looks before Garreth asked the innkeeper, "Is the road still safe? I've been there myself a few years back, and I remember the road vaguely. It is encompassed by a vast moorland before it dwindles into a path leading across salt marshes as it nears the coast and the steep hill where the castle stands."

"Yes, that's right. But it used to be deserted, apart from an occasional adventurer. These days, more and more Saxons and other Northmen leave the coast of Cornwall, moving inland..."