A Week with a Prince

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝕱𝖎𝖛𝖊

Ginny woke up when she heard the horses pacing outside the tent. Trying to ignore the noise, the princess kept her eyes stubbornly closed; she felt perfectly warm and comfortable as she lay enveloped in her knight's arms. She snuggled closer into him, wishing to go back to sleep, willing the whole world to go away and leave them alone...

She heard him chuckle softly as he pressed his lips to her forehead, then said, "It's time to get up, Gwendolyn. It sounds like our friends are ready to leave, and we still need to dress for the journey."

Ginny sighed, opening her eyes finally, meeting his blue gaze.

"We should have slept under an elf-mound instead of this tent," she said, smiling at him. "They say that if a traveller finds one and sleeps within, time drifts on without him. And when he wakes up after a single night, years have passed in his world, and all his kinsfolk is gone... They may have forgotten about us..." She let her voice trail off, thinking that then, only then, they could stay together.

"First, you showed me the fairies, and now you talk about the elves?" he asked, teasing, his eyes twinkling with a smile, his voice dreamy. "Let's hope that we will find such an elf-mound in Aquae Sulis tonight. Then I wouldn't even need to pull the Excalibur from its stone."

She sighed. They could daydream as much as they wished, but until any of their dreams came true...

"Will you take me to my tent? I need to get changed and pack," she asked him, hoping to escape the questions Garreth was bound to flood her with if he saw her outside alone.

Ginny shivered when her knight left her side, missing his warmth and closeness. Sitting up, she pulled her shoes on quickly, then followed him outside. The morning after the rainy night was bright and sunny, but cold. Sir Lancelot accompanied her to her tent, holding her hand, and she tried to avoid Garreth's and the prince's questioning looks which she could feel piercing through her as they passed by them, exchanging greetings.

They can just think whatever they want, she mused, pulling on her gambeson and braiding her hair once she was hidden from the men's eyes in her tent; Garreth knew her well enough not to jump to conclusions and judge her, and Prince Arthur...

Well, the prince had just spent the night alone with her cousin, and from their fond, tender, exchanged looks and touches as they saddled the prince's horse together, which she had noticed as she walked by them before with Lancelot, and again now, as she set her packed bags outside the tent for Garreth to pick up before she continued on her way to the Lake's shore, they had enjoyed each other's company.

She didn't owe anything to the prince-- it was he who had asked her father for her hand in marriage, knowing well that he could never love her, not the way a husband should love his wife. For her, it was as if he had betrayed her even before they were married. She knew that he wasn't a bad man, but for her, marrying someone only to unite kingdoms was a wrong thing to do; such a union would only make them both unhappy. And it was not just the two of them anymore. Their wedding would make four people miserable.

Ginny kneeled on the grassy bank, dipping her hands into the cool water. The sun had risen a long time ago, but the countryside looked peaceful and sleepy still, as if it was enchanted. There was no wind to stir the tall reeds from slumber and disperse the translucent mists-- they were clinging to the surface of the Lake, covering the Holy Isle like a blanket, silent and unmoving.

As she leaned closer to the water's surface to wash her face, Ginny noticed the peregrine falcon in the undulating reflection. It was observing her curiously from its perch on a branch of a lone apple tree. She stood up and looked at it defiantly as she dried her face with her sleeve.