A Week with a Prince

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝕱𝖎𝖛𝖊

"Speak then, Morgaine. I will always be grateful to your Lady Nimue for keeping Guinevere safe when I could not, and I will do anything within my powers for her."

"But she is not asking anything from you, brother, just that you remember this," Morgaine said, then stood straight, serious and perfectly still before them as she repeated her Lady's words, looking suddenly as imposing as the High Priestess of Avalon herself. "Lady Guinevere is the one whom the Excalibur chose, and it is her to whom your loyal kings, dukes, and chieftains must offer allegiance after your wedding. She will become the High Queen of Britain, and you, her king. She will have to lead your men into war sooner or later if you want to rid Britain of the Saxons once and forever."

"But... it is not a life fit for a woman," Arthur protested, pulling Ginny closer to him. How could he take this fragile, delicate, beautiful girl into a war campaign...

Morgaine smiled and shook her head at him, her eyes full of knowledge, Druid Mysteries, and visions of the future she was not allowed to share with any of them. She said simply, "It is not up to you, Arthur. It is written in her stars. Just like the warrior queens that had ruled in these isles before her, she will represent the Lady of Avalon for your men and lead them to victory. And just like in the old days, you, King Arthur, will be your queen's Duke of War, fighting at your lady's side and in her name."

Seeing the confusion, and indecision in her brother's eyes, the young priestess added threateningly, "Should you not agree, I'm to take your Lady Guinevere back to Avalon with me, the Sword and all."

A smile that had been tugging at the corners of Morgaine's lips broke into a laughter, echoed by that of the knights' now standing in a tight circle around them, when both Arthur's arms shot around Ginny protectively, making her giggle happily as he replied, "Tell your Lady Nimue that I accept all her conditions, I'm sure she knew I would, anyway."

"Precisely." Morgaine smiled. "So, may you two be happy." She approached them, kissed Ginny on both cheeks, then Arthur. "Oh, here, take this," she said, pressing a small glass jar she pulled from a pouch hanging from her belt into Ginny's hand, when she noticed how stiffly her brother, much taller than her, bent down to kiss her. "This is a salve for his wound; it's not properly healed yet. I'll see you at your wedding, in Camelot, in a month. I know, brother, the castle is not ready yet, but it will be, trust me..." Chuckling to herself, making them wonder just what else did she see in their near future, she walked towards the waiting barge, and it was Morag's turn to step forward and say her goodbyes.

The girl wrapped her arms around her brother's neck, begging him again and again to carry her greetings and apologies to their parents and the other siblings. This parting was harder than the one with Morgaine for Ginny, and after the girl embraced her silently and headed for the barge which was swallowed by the impenetrable mists of the Lake the instant it left the shore, tears which she could not hold back were running down her cheeks.

"Come, let me take you home," Arthur muttered, looking unsure of what to do about her tears, then, lifting one of the many layers of her gown to her face, wiped them away. "Help me take this off," he called to his knights after, pulling at the straps of his armour.

Lancelot was next to him immediately, trying to reason with his friend. "You should keep it, Arthur, the roads are dangerous and your wound..."

"Ginny is riding with me. It would hardly be a comfortable journey for her, leaning against this thing. And we would be too heavy for any horse..." Arthur said, his eyes appraising the horses that his knights now led to the water's edge from a nearby copse of trees.

"Wear this then, both of you," Garreth insisted, suddenly appearing with two gambesons in his hands. "The journeys might be dangerous, and it will be long. It will take us a week to reach Windsor. I'm sorry, Ginny, I can't make us drift through the mists, we are too many for that. And seeing all the Saxons from the troops that had broken the treaty, and the number of people desperate enough to attack a group of travellers who are on the roads since the war, it would not be wise to split."

Ginny nodded her understanding, then said, "But I don't want to go home, Garreth. I want to spend the time left until the wedding in Warwick, with your mother. Please."

Garreth smiled, "Of course. I'm sure she will be delighted. We will let your father know about your decision when we arrive at Warwick."

"Let us go then," Arthur said, lifting Ginny up in his arms, making her squeal with surprise, and carrying her towards the horse who had been her faithful companion ever since his owner had left him with her in Tintagel.

"You never told me his name," Ginny said, snuggling into Arthur the moment he mounted behind her, one of her hands buried deeply in the animal's soft, black mane, the other resting on Arthur's arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

"He's Dragon, of course," he said, his lips at her temple, his breath making her shiver.

"Of course." She giggled, then, feeling his lips brush against her temple in a featherlight kiss, breathed, "Where is your Rhosyn?"

He sighed before replying, "We left the dragons and most of our soldiers guarding the northern shores. It really seems that it's only a question of time before they return..."

Ginny did not reply. She was feeling too happy to talk about the war or the Saxons. She still could not believe that they were finally reunited, that this man she loved more than anything was her King Arthur, that they would be married in a month... And before that... well, he would not leave her until they reached Warwick, the safety of Aunt Ealasaid's castle. However busy he might be, he was entirely hers for the following five days.

Sighing contentedly she leaned against him, letting Dragon's movement, and the rustle of his hooves in the long grass when they left the dusty road and continued across a lush plain, lull her into a daydream, watching absently as the fog thinned slowly, gradually, even as the distance between them and the Lake grew. Then it was the turn of the daylight, vanishing with the setting sun.

Her eyes were starting to close when they stopped suddenly after only a few hours' ride and set their camp in the middle of the great, grassy flatland, in the falling dusk.

The knights-- they were ten, Ginny noticed, apart from Garreth and Lancelot-- pitched a few tents while she examined the only source of water on the plain, a little pool, a well concealed within the grass not far from their camp. The cluster of low bushes growing around it did not provide enough cover to use it to get washed as well as she would have liked, but Lancelot, who showed it to her, promised that they would reach a stream the day after, and maybe a river by the following night.

"And here, my lady, is your tent," the ginger knight said when they returned to their now ready camp, taking her saddle bags and carrying them towards one of the tents.

"Mine? Where will Arthur sleep?" she asked, her eyes finding him promptly on the edge of the camp, giving orders, or rather assigning the watch duty to a couple of knights whose names she did not know yet.

"Right there," Lancelot said, pointing to the tent closest to hers, "with me and your cousin."

"No, he won't," she said firmly, her tone not leaving space for argument-- a thing she had learned in Avalon. "We will share this tent, your king and I. Now please bring his bags over and then inform him, thank you."

Lancelot only grinned at her in reply, and after he held the tent's flap for her and she vanished within, he added a few branches to the fire burning closeby to give her more light. Then, still grinning, he made his way toward Arthur.