A Week with a Prince

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝕺𝖓𝖊

As the days slipped past, huddling together into weeks, which soon morphed into months, and the cruel winter descended upon the world, Arthur started to feel desperate.

He had left Guinevere at Tintagel too long ago, begging her to wait for him somewhere in safety, and still, he could not return to her. The Saxons encroaching on them from the northern shores seemed impossible to defeat, their numbers multiplying instead of diminishing as the time passed.

Old Myrddin kept insisting on bringing Guinevere and the Sword into the battle and even though at the beginning no one took him seriously, suddenly Arthur was the only one who did not agree with the wizard's advice.

He missed her more and more each day, his feelings for the girl seemed to grow stronger with the time and distance, and the last thing he wanted was putting her in danger by bringing her here... However, no one listened to him anymore. Arthur and Guinevere were not married yet and so, in the end, it was her father's order that sent Myrddin and Garreth for her, soon after his own father had been gravely wounded in a small, useless, unimportant skirmish.

"We will protect her, Son." The old king promised the young man who sat patiently at his bedside, lost in thought, his voice feeble with the fever inflicted by the unhealed wound.

Arthur squeezed his hand silently, hoping that he was right. Wishing that this once impressive warrior king who now lay in front of him looking old and shrivelled would recover, despite the fact that neither their healers nor the seers offered him such hopes.

And even though Arthur didn't know the great Uther Pendragon well, as he had been brought up by his foster father and told only upon reaching adulthood who his real father was, he didn't want the old king to leave him now. He would miss him... and he didn't feel ready to take the responsibilities of the king from his father. He was too young and unprepared... he had never asked for this! Arthur still remembered the fleeting relief he had felt when the Excalibur did not yield to him, even though he had wished it would, because of the girl... Becoming a king, or worse, the High King of Britain, seemed like an ordeal... But that was just what the future had in store for him, if he married Lady Guinevere, the girl with the Sword. Well, there was no more time left for shirking the responsibilities.

Squaring his shoulders he let his eyes stroll into the dim corner of the tent the moment his father fell asleep, where his foster brother Cai played cards with Lancelot and a handful of Knights of his Company, feeling still a little jealous of their simpler destinies. But he wouldn't have it any other way, he resolved with a deep sigh, now looking at his sleeping father again. If the lifetime of dangers and responsibilities for the entire isles was the price to pay to live with his Guinevere, he would learn to be a king worthy of his queen. Together, they could achieve anything, even bringing peace for the whole of Britain... She was the one and only girl he could ever love; he was certain of that.

He closed his eyes and drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders-- even for a seasoned warrior like him the coldness and discomforts of the army camp were not pleasant-- while his mind continued to paint pictures of Gwen, no, Ginny, as her cousin called her.

Arthur saw her again the first moment when he laid eyes on her, dressed as she had been in Garreth's clothes, convinced that no one would see through her disguise. He recalled the instant when their eyes first met and her breath hitched as she took him in, making him lose his head. He could imagine her happy, playful giggle echoing through the silence of the tent, her smile, her long red hair flowing in the wind the first time she took her hat off in front of him, finally admitting that she was a girl.

A smile played on his lips as he remembered all those things she had told him, his breath faltered when his mind strayed back to the moment he saw her bathing under the moonlight alone, then again with him in the hot water pool in Aquae Sulis... He longed to feel again her small, shy but curious hands roaming over his body, the... outburst of love he thought would make his heart explode when they first kissed-- the simple memory, the mere echo of that instant threatening to do so even now...

His fantasies were disturbed abruptly, the pleasant images breaking like a mirror shattered into thousands of pieces impossible to be put back together the same way they had been before, when a loud pop resounded through the tent, and two men appeared in its darkest corner, shrouded in mist.

"Where is she?" Arthur called, running towards Myrddin and Garreth the moment he realised what was happening.

"We... did not find her, my lord. Her aunt, Countess Ealasaid of Warwick, said that she had sent Princess Guinevere to the convent in Glastonbury when King Gwynedd appeared at her gates... But the Abbess told us that the princess left when King Gwynedd reached the shores of the Lake and threatened them-- his men are now all over the country, looking for her. She's gone. I can't see her anywhere; it must be due to the magic of the Sword. I think that Guinevere might be in Avalon. However, the High Priestess refuses my pleas to speak with her..."

"Why? What does this all mean? What about King Gwynedd, how did he know she was in Glastonbury?" Arthur asked, running his hand through his black hair, now falling to his shoulders.

"Well, rather than his seers, someone must have seen her and told his men. See, the magic of the Excalibur makes her invisible to Sight..." Myrddin tried to appease and reassure the worried prince. "I'm sure she is safe..."

"I'll be outside, Father," Garreth said quietly to the old wizard when Lancelot came to stand next to him, his hand reaching for Garreth's unconsciously.

Father? Arthur thought with surprise, his eyes flickering between Myrddin and Garreth. But this wasn't the thing he needed to know right now.

"How will I find Guinevere?!" he asked, turning on the old wizard again. "Why was she taken to Avalon?"

"Calm down, my lord. She has the Sword of the Holy Regalia, belonging to the Druids of Avalon. If anyone can teach her anything about it and her future duties as their queen, it's them. And I don't doubt that they'll let me know when the princess is ready for you. For the time being, we can only bow to and accept their ancient wisdom, greater than our own. And we must win this battle without their help, it would seem. I saw that we will succeed as clearly as I saw that King Gwynedd will leave Albion, and pledge his allegiance to the High Queen and her King," he looked at Arthur meaningfully, "in the near future. However, I've seen a few sad events coming before that, too..." he added, walking towards the old king's bed, letting the prince follow speechless in his wake.