A Week with a Prince

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝕿𝖜𝖔

It felt to Ginny that Avalon really lay within some other realm, a world of endless summer and peace shrouded in the ever-present layers of mist hovering above the waters of the Lake.

The moment she settled into her new routine, following the simple daily tasks the High Priestess prepared for her and Morag, she lost the count of the days she spent on the island. They were all the same, bathed in warm sunshine and the scent of apple blossoms, tranquil and slow, filled with learning about the Sword's magical powers, herb lore and healing, the old Druid wisdom and religion, and their legacy running through her own veins. Once Ginny apprehended all this, she was trained in queencraft and lectured about the secrets of the life that lay in front of her, a life with a man at her side.

It was then that she and Morag were separated more often. The other girl, whose future lay apparently elsewhere, followed different lessons with the novices and soon enough, Ginny noticed a blue crescent painted on her friend's forehead, a thing that no one offered to her.

The lack of news from the outside world made Ginny feel that she lived within a blissful dream, from which she would be woken up when Lady Nimue decided that the time was ripe. But she did not mind, she was looking forward to that moment. Even though she knew, somehow, that once she left this wonderful place, she would never see it again; there was Sir Lancelot somewhere beyond those mists teeming with fluttering fairies, reminding her of him each time she spotted them.

As the days slipped past, the whispers transpiring through those infinite mists, like the faint peel of church bells they could hear sometimes from Glastonbury, grew more serious. They heard about King Uther's death, about Prince Athur being injured shortly after, rumours, which made Ginny feel sorry for Garreth. But at least he was at his prince's side and could tend to him, be close when the other needed him most...

They heard about their army's victory over the Saxons, Prince Arthur's coronation, and King Gwynedd's leaving her father's country finally. But there were no tidings of Sir Lancelot and as the days followed each other, the princess started to grow impatient and took to pacing the sandy shore of the Lake each afternoon after her lessons, staring into the thick wall of fog hoping to glean something about him from its gossamer tendrils.

"You are ready to leave us, Lady Guinevere."

Ginny jumped at hearing Lady Nimue's words from behind her back on one such afternoon. One hand pressed to her thrumming heart, the other closed tightly around Excalibur's bejewelled hilt, she turned towards the voice, away from the mists.

"There is nothing more that we can teach you, and your Lord Arthur is waiting for you at the shore," the High Priestess added, and only now Ginny realised that she wasn't alone, Morgaine and Morag stood a few steps behind her, their slight figures concealed by the deep shadows cast by the apple trees.

Suddenly... Ginny did not feel ready to go back. During her time spent on this holy island, she illuded herself that she would be going back to the man she loved. But of course it was King Arthur she had to marry, and later follow into the next war against the Saxons, looming in their near future, even though none of the warriors coming home victorious now, would want to believe it.

Sighing, she hanged her head in a sign of acceptance of her fate.

"You'll meet him on the shore in an hour. Let the girls dress you for the occasion. And please do tell my son, Sir Lancelot, that I send my love. We have not met in years, but I get glimpses of him through the Sight."

The High Priestess smiled at Ginny as the princess blinked in surprise-- of course, Sir Lancelot of the Lake must be Lady Nimue's son, fostered in the other world...

"I... I will, my lady," she stammered finally, then let Morag and Morgaine escort her towards her room.

"Ginny, I'm not staying with you on the other side. I'm only coming to greet my brother-- Lady Nimue said he had joined King Arthur's Company and is on the shore with the other knights. Then I'll return here."

Ginny gaped at her friend while she laced her into her gown-- the same one she wore on the day when Myrddin accompanied her to Aunt Ealasaid's, who knows how many months ago. She was just about to start protesting, to tell Morag how she couldn't face marrying Arthur knowing how close the only man she had ever loved would always be to them, that her ordeal would somehow feel easier to endure with Morag at her side, when Morgaine, who was now brushing her hair, giggled softly as if at some private joke. Ginny shivered, looking at the dark woman dressed in black suspiciously. Could she read her thoughts?

"Don't mind me... It will clear up very soon, Guinevere. I'm coming with you like Morag, to greet my own brother and bear a message from Lady Nimue to him."

"Oh?" Ginny said, trying to force her scattered thoughts into something more coherent. "Is your brother in Lord Arthur's Company too, then?"

"My brother, half brother, to be precise, is the Lord Arthur," Morgaine said, giving Ginny time to recover from yet another surprise by straightening the folds and layers of her gown glittering ostentatiously in the ill-lit room, making Ginny long for the simple clothes of the Maidens of Avalon she had just taken off.

She bit her lip, recalling how she once admitted to her knight that she believed in the gossip of Arthur's sister being a witch... She quickly pulled the young woman in an embrace, whispering in her ear, "Then we shall be sisters soon..."

Morgaine returned her embrace, then let go of her, taking a step back and observing her.

"You are ready, my princess. Let us go, Lady Nimue needs to talk to you before you leave. And you know men, they are an impatient lot..." Morgaine said, making both Morag and Ginny smile.