A Week with a Prince

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊

"My queen." The High Priestess smiled at Ginny as the three girls reached her on the shore, where a large barge with Ginny's horse already in it, swayed on the tranquil waves of the placid Lake waiting to take her back to her world.

Ginny forced a smile; she would rather stay in this enchanted realm forever than marry King Arthur. But she did not have a choice like Morag, her future was set, and she was destined to accept it.

"You will marry the king in one month precisely, on the night of Beltane, when the entire isles celebrate our Goddess," Lady Nimue announced. She paused shortly to let her words sink in, then continued, nodding towards the Sword attached to Ginny's belt, half hidden within the folds of her gown, "The Excalibur is yours as long as you need it. Once you'll have fulfilled your duty, and you'll be content with what you achieved with its help, you'll  throw in the waters of the Lake, and it will return to Avalon. Should it get into unworthy hands, it would cause more trouble than the Saxons. Men would wage wars to acquire it, there would be no peace until it got lost or destroyed..."

Ginny nodded mutely, committing all the instructions to memory, feeling fleetingly happy that she did not have to marry Arthur for one full month yet. The thought of the wedding night with the man who so obviously preferred Garreth made her shiver... But there was no avoiding it, as the High Priestess had told her, producing an heir for the newly united Kingdom of Britain was one of her duties.

"One last thing," Lady Nimue said, scattering her unpleasant thoughts. "You've been initiated to the Druid Mysteries, and therefore you are pledged to the Goddess, and Avalon. Remember that... Don't let the people forget about us... don't let this place become a myth. It's up to you to keep us a part of your world."

Ginny's eyes filled with tears as she let Nimue wrap her in an embrace-- the woman suddenly felt like a mother to her.

"I'll do my best to do everything as you said, my lady," she pledged, then looked around one last time, taking in the silent girls dressed in colours of the fertile earth, the serious priestesses looming above them like black, protective shadows, the small settlement huddled at the foot of the hill crowned with a coronet of standing stones, and the apple trees, growing everywhere, their eternal blossoms turning to air she was breathing into perfume...

"Here. Our parting gift for you." The High Priestess called her attention to herself one more time when she passed her an ancient looking scabbard made of the same, dark metal of the Excalibur. "They belong together."

Ginny nodded, and taking the Sword from where it hung at her belt, always at her side, swapped the scabbards, the scraping of metal as the Excalibur slipped into its original scabbard replacing the susurrus of water lapping at the shore momentarily, becoming the only sound in otherwise total, reverential silence.

Then, obeying the encouraging shove with which Lady Nimue directed her steps towards the barge, she gathered the cloud-like layers of her silky gown, the same colour of the silvery mist and the bright blue water of the Lake, over her left arm, and embarked. Morag and Morgaine followed and Ginny stepped closer to her horse to make space for them, and, clinging to his bridle, stared into the mist in front of her, wiping her tears with her sleeve inconspicuously, never looking back.

None of them spoke as the barge, guided by a single oarsman, glided silently over the misty surface of the Lake, not even once that the gossamer veil of fog thinned enough to let them see a group of men waiting for them on the still distant shore.

Ginny observed the group, the knights growing bigger, inevitable like her future, as the barge neared the bank. Most of them stood in a loose circle, their happy laughter reaching her through the last vestiges of the Lake's fog-- soon she recognised Garreth and his prince, arms wrapped around each other's waist, clinging to the shining armour they all wore... And there was Gawaine, Morag's brother, and... all alone, pacing the shore impatiently at a distance from the others, closer to where the barge was headed, her Sir Lancelot...

She saw him first, he hadn't noticed them yet, and so she could steal a few furtive glances at his raven-black, wavy hair, grown so long that it brushed the shoulders of the silvery armour he wore, looking just as shiny... His beloved face, as beautiful as it had been...

Enough! she scolded herself, he wasn't the man she was coming back for. She had to let him go from her mind, her memory...

Ginny steeled her heart to what she had to do as the barge reached the shallow waters close to the shore, the wooden hull whispering as it pushed its way through the reeds, moments before the knight's eyes found her. His intense look made her feel warm and dizzy as her heart beat at triple speed, as loud as a church bell.

No, she couldn't, she wouldn't look at him anymore.

Morag got off the barge first, leading Ginny's horse towards the knight, curtsying to him mutely, politely, before she walked off towards her brother. The princess looked at Morgaine, hoping she would disembark next, but the young priestess seemed in no rush to leave the barge.

There was no way to postpone this moment any longer then. Taking a deep breath, Ginny gathered her long gown over her arm again to avoid dipping it in the mud, then let the oarsman help her step on the firm ground.