It was Garreth who came back with Arthur's bag-- Ginny recognised it as the one she had sent him by Morag's brother-- shaking his head.

"Ginny, you are not married yet... there will be gossip... you don't understand, I think..." He struggled for words, looking embarrassed when she pretended not to follow the implied meaning of his words.

Finally, she took pity on him. "Don't worry, Garreth, we are as good as married and should anything... happen before... You forget that I spent a long time in Avalon. The Maidens of the Goddess receive a different education than the Glastonbury nuns..." She giggled when she saw the blush spreading over her cousin's cheeks, visible even within the ill-lit tent. "I don't care about the gossip, I doubt any of Arthur's faithful knights will think badly of him for sharing the tent with his soon-to-be wife. Off you go, let me get changed, this dress is really unsuitable for travelling," she added when she heard Arthur's and Lancelot's voices reaching them from outside, their silhouettes moving on the walls of the tent as the tall flames of the fire behind them danced and flickered.

"I see that they trained you well in Avalon, my queen," Garreth teased, "you are more stubborn than before, there's no reasoning with you... Well, be it as you want, and good luck to our Lord Arthur..."

He scurried through the flap and into the night, chuckling silently, before she could find anything to throw at him.

Watching Garreth's silhouette join the others, she quickly improvised a place to sleep for the two of them, adding her blue blanket to Arthur's, laying the Sword to the side. Then she peeled her gown off and banished it into a corner, pulling on the clothes of the Maidens of Avalon, which Morag or Morgaine must have packed for her. The long brown skirt and the spacious shirt were much more suitable for this trip than her bright blue gown.

She was braiding her hair when the tent's flap disappeared momentarily, offering her a view of the fire and the knights gathering around it to cook dinner, before it was replaced by her Lord Arthur coming inside.

"I didn't want to offend you by offering you to share the tent with me, we are not mar..."

She rolled her eyes at him, not sure if he noticed in the semi-darkness, then, lacing her arms around his neck pulled him down and kissed him, feeling herself melt in his arms as he deepened the kiss.

"Like we never shared a tent before," she whispered breathlessly when they pulled away after a long while.

"But you were not Princess Guinevere, the only daughter of King Leodegrance then," he muttered, his lips searching for hers again, his hands suddenly astray under her shirt, hers mirroring their owner's example, struggling to find their way through the labyrinth of laces of his own shirt.

"Ginny," he muttered, and she stilled. He had been right before; they had waited for so long. This wasn't the time nor the place...

"Let us go out before my cousin comes again with some silly excuse to remind us that this is not our wedding night," she said, putting her shirt back to order, giggling in embarrassment when she realised how well she could hear the men sitting by the fire through the fabric of the tent.

"Right... " he muttered, running his hand through his hair, realising the same thing. "Lancelot told me that he showed you the well and you might want to wash... Shall I accompany you, my lady?"

"Yes, please." She giggled, pulling a towel from her bag from beneath her clothes. "It's too small to bathe, but he promised to lead us to a river by tomorrow night."

They exited the tent, and after Arthur told one of the knights where they were going, they walked into the near complete darkness filling the world beyond the circle of light of their fire.

Despite having set the camp far away from any road or human settlement, Ginny saw Arthur glancing nervously into the bushes and long grass around them, alive and moving with the gentle wind blowing through the vast plain, so she didn't take long to wash her face and hands, hoping that Lancelot would really find her a river to bathe tomorrow.

"What about you?" she asked as he urged her back towards the fire.

"I'll come back later, after dinner, once you are safe in the tent. It's too dark here, too open... I can't wait to deliver you to your aunt, she looks like a responsible guardian for you, and her castle can be defended easily..."

"Have you met Aunt Ealasaid? Won't you stay with me in Warwick?" Too many questions flooded Ginny's mind, making her stop in her tracks.

He drew his arms around her, smiling, kissing her on her forehead, then taking her hand in his and pulling her towards the camp.

"We have met briefly. Myrddin thought you must be in Avalon, but your aunt was the only one who could tell us exactly where you went from her castle. She told us about King Gwynedd and how she sent you away with a letter for the Abbess of Glastonbury. But of course, first she made me tell her why you refused to marry me, and forced me and Lancelot to explain to her all the confusion... Countess Ealasaid made me feel like a little, naughty boy!" He laughed, making her giggle. "Did you know that while you have that Sword, you are perfectly invisible to Myrddin and most likely to all wizards and seers? It's even possible that it protects you from dark magic," he added, thoughtful and serious again.

Ginny nodded, remembering what Lady Nimue had told her about the Excalibur's magic,  even as they reached the fire, and Garreth approached them, telling them that the dinner was ready.

They sat down next to each other where the knights made place for them, enjoying their meal of cooked fish, which some of them had caught in the Lake while waiting for Ginny's arrival, and even a roasted rabbit they had caught along the way. Arthur pointed out patiently each and every one of the knights whom she had not met before, even those patrolling their camp in the distance, telling her their names, but Ginny felt lost, they just seemed too many to remember at once.

Arthur laughed. "What will you do when I introduce you to my whole Company? They are more than fifty."

Ginny had never thought about how large Arthur's army must be, when even his closest Guard, the Companions, were so many. She tried to picture fifty adult men, wearing the impressive, shining armour of the Pendragons, seated together in one room... and failed. Well, she would see Arthur's Company at the wedding. And then, later, his servants, army and dragons, and even the troops of his allies and enemies, she mused, recalling Lady Nimue's words. She should better start learning their names now.

"And where's Cai?" she asked, proud that she at least remembered that one name belonging to Arthur's foster brother.

Arthur sighed. "I had to leave him in charge of the dragons. No one else is quite as good with them as he. But I'll have him come to Camelot for the wedding and you two will meet properly."

Ginny nodded, and then they sat quietly for a while, leaning into each other, listening to the other conversations in course around the fire.

As he had said before, Arthur took her to their tent after the meal and went to wash while she got ready for the night. She remembered Morgaine's salve and found it in her bag while there was still enough light from the fire.

The moment Arthur was back-- a few louder than necessary, bemused and meaningful goodnights followed him as he made his way towards the tent-- she pointed at the blankets for him to lay down, waving the small glass jar in front of his face.

"Really, it's nothing... " he protested, reluctant to show her the wound.

But she pushed him down mutely, not giving him a chance to argue with her, and pulled his shirt up before he could stop her. Peeling off a bandage carefully, she stared at the not perfectly healed long cut running from his left hip across his stomach, forming a strange, dark half moon on his pale skin. Her eyes welled up with tears when she pictured how much blood he must have lost, how painful it must have been, for how long he must have suffered-- there must have been an inflammation followed by a long fever... But now she was with him, and she would never let him go into a battle alone again.

Pulling her bag closer, she searched for a pouch where, like every Priestess of Avalon, she kept her things for healing. She cleaned the wound before applying the salve and a fresh bandage, making a mental list of the scents rising from the ointment as her fingers worked it into his skin, to be able to reproduce it when it was finished.

While she put her bags away again, he adjusted his shirt and made space for her on the blankets, pulling her into his arms as she lay down.

They lay silently in the darkness which thickened around them even as the fire outside died, revelling in each other's closeness, their eyes trained on the blood red gems set in the  Excalibur's hilt, pulsating hypnotically with some charmed life of their own.

"I love you," he whispered as she drifted off to sleep, lulled by the beating of his heart.