A Week with a Prince

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝕰𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

Ginny nodded and followed the young nun to the Abbess' cell, thankful for the distraction. She felt shivers run along her spine, under the plain woollen gown she wore just like the other sisters, the black wool too thin to ward off the cold draft sweeping the dim, damp corridors. But she didn't think the shivers were caused solely by the coldness. She felt that whatever the Abbess had to tell her, it wasn't good news...

The princess entered the Abbess' room and curtsied to the older woman in silent trepidation while she dismissed sister Mary, only then, at her bidding, followed her to her small hearth.

"I thought you were pledged to marry Prince Arthur, Lady Guinevere," the woman muttered thoughtfully, stretching her hands towards the low flames, not looking at the girl standing by her.

"I... I am..." Ginny stammered, surprised by her words, trying to read the woman's face-- the Abbess seemed older today, her forehead wrinkled both with age and worry.

"Then why is it not him, but King Gwynedd of Combrogia, who is waiting for you on the shore of the Lake? He, and a large group of his men," the woman said, only now turning toward Ginny. "He sent word with one of them that I'm to send you over unless we want him at our gates... I have not replied to him yet, but I have already sent a letter to your aunt. I'll try to keep him on the shore as long as I can while we wait for her reply... What else would you want me to do, Lady Guinevere? I hope that he won't dare enter the convent against my will, by force... but if he does...?"

"Please forgive me for having caused this situation. Do you want me to leave? Please let me leave, I'm only putting you all in danger..." Ginny pleaded. She didn't know where she could go from here, but she couldn't ask the good sisters to protect her from an enemy king and his armed men.

"Oh no, you must stay, child. Where would you go? As if the war wasn't causing enough troubles... But we will think about something," the Abbess mused, her wise, patient eyes straying to the flames again.

Ginny sighed, a vague outline of a plan forming in her mind. She knew what she had to do... It was the only way to keep the convent and its inhabitants safe.

Seeing that the Abbess was lost in her own thoughts again, she took her leave, but instead of returning to the chamber where the sisters and Morag were waiting for her, she walked towards her cell. She needed to be alone and think. Ginny took the Excalibur from the wooden chest where it lay buried under her and Morag's clothes since the day they arrived and laid on her bed, hugging it to her chest, shivering.

Why did it choose her? What good was this magical blade to her, closed in this convent? If only Lancelot had taken it to the battle with him, maybe... maybe he would be here by now, coming to claim her instead of Gwynedd.

As the Sword's metal took heat from the body, the gems set in its hilt shone dimly in the thickening darkness filling the cell. Ginny's eyes were drawn to their pulsating light, then started to close on their own accord and images she had never seen projected against her eyelids. Is that the Sword's magic? she wondered briefly, then her conscious thoughts became unfocused, vanished completely, and she saw herself leaving her body, drifting out of her cell, seeping through the walls of the convent.

As if from high above, she spotted King Gwynedd's men camped on the shore of the Lake, but she couldn't linger. Something was pulling her north, and she did not struggle. Bare, white planes changed into snow-capped hills, then mountains, until they were swapped by endless forests of huge, ancient, evergreen trees. A clearing came into her view, full of dark tents scattered in the snow, another army's camp...

From a great distance which she could not cross she saw Garreth and Arthur, and her father with King Uther and Myrddin talking by a fire in the midst of the tents, and further apart, alone-- Yes, it's him! her heart informed her even before her eyes registered his troubled, beloved features-- stood her knight, deep in thought.

Too soon her spirit drifted again, as if it was blown away by a gust of wind, higher, further north, and there, beyond the age old forest she saw what they could not see-- an army much bigger than theirs, marching south, towards the camp of the Pendragons' men...

She gasped for air as if she was drowning when someone's hand squeezed her shivering shoulder, pulling her back to life, wrapping her freezing body in Lancelot's blanket.

"Ginny, Ginny, are you all right? You slept so deeply that you looked... dead!" Morag called. "You feel so cold... what's wrong with you, are you ill?!"

Ginny pulled herself into a sitting position, teeth chattering as she replied, "I... I am... fine. It... was just a dream..."

She let Morag take the Sword, which now looked normal again, from her, and lay the fire in their fireplace. Slowly, she warmed up enough to be able to concentrate on her thoughts. Then she recounted to her friend who sat down on the small bed next to her, what the Abbess had told her, and explained her plan.

"You see, I must leave, Morag," Ginny said finally.

"You mean that we must leave. I agree. And the sooner we go, the better. Where shall we go?" Morag asked, standing up again and starting to pack their saddlebags.

"North. I think our men in Celidon Wood are in danger, I saw the Saxons moving, closing on them. I must warn them. If only Garreth was here, to let me travel within his fog... I might reach them too late!"

"Do you mean you had a... premonition?" Morag, pausing in her task, asked, staring at Ginny. "Did you see my brother?" she added in a hoarse, frightened voice, her face, as pale as a ghost's shining through the semi darkness of their cell.

"No," Ginny said, rushing to her, enclosing her in an embrace. "I did not see him, and it was only a dream, but still..." She shrugged, letting go of the girl. "I must try to warn them."

"We'll leave at midnight. After the last service. We'll linger in the chapel and sneak out the side door from the kitchens. I'll make sure our horses will be waiting for us there. I'll see you at dinner. And please, finish packing, or we'll be late," Morag instructed her, rushing to the door, filled with purpose.

"But you should stay here!" Ginny called after her. "It's me and the Sword whom Gwynedd wants. This place is quite safe for you if I leave..."

Morag turned around as she opened the door, and as she rushed through, just before the thick wood separated them, Ginny saw her rolling her eyes.

She smiled; Morag was apparently just as stubborn as she was. There was nothing else to do before dinner than pack their bags then.