From the corner of the ballroom, Gwen allowed herself a proud smile. The lights were low and the string quartet played a haunting melody. A gothic party was what they wanted, so a gothic party was what Gwen gave them, complete with black roses, pewter skulls and fake tombstones and held in a gorgeous, albeit small, gothic castle. Despite the ever-changing minds of the demanding grooms-to-be and her boss breathing down her neck at every turn, this engagement party was undoubtedly a huge success. I told you I could do it. Gwen sent a silent message to Catrina. I deserve that partnership that was up for grabs, not Vivian. Although Vivian had been given the juicier contract with the fancy black tie masquerade party that some minor royalty was hosting and if Viv managed to pull that off without problems, Gwen was sure that Catrina would give Viv the partnership and not her. Didn't matter than Gwen was as good, if not more so, than Viv. She was constantly given the less prestigious jobs, mostly involving slightly different (she would not call them weird, no matter how often Viv did) people, to handle while Viv, with her golden hair and gorgeous looks, had all the high-profile, less different events landing in her lap.

"But you're so good at managing all these strange people," Viv had said a few months ago, just before Gwen's review with Catrina, as she tossed her golden hair, before crossing her long legs. "Why, look at the wonderful job you did for the dog wedding."

"It was just a wedding themed party for the dogs. It was cute."

Viv waved her fingers at Gwen, a large diamond ring symbolising her new engagement glinting under the office lights. "Whatever. I wouldn't be able to deal with them without laughing. Catrina wants you to handle Keith Loo's engagement party. After all, you were the matchmaker."

And she had been. Not deliberately. She had been managing the restoration of Aiman's extremely historical mansion and in the midst of a particularly hectic day, she had managed to mess up Keith's lunch schedule and somehow everything came to a head on the pavement outside the exclusive Kitchn where Aiman and Keith met.

Then, as the saying went, the rest was history.

"Excuse me. Are you the organiser?"

Jolted out of her reverie, Gwen saw an older gentleman stood next to her, dressed in the dark reds and blacks that the two grooms had requested. She thought he looked familiar but with the only light coming from a few skinny sticks of candles, Gwen couldn't be sure. "Yes, is there a problem?"

"No. This is, uh, a very unusual party."

Tearing her gaze from the dance floor, Gwen moved so that they stood face to face. She wasn't sure if he was here to rant to her about the horrors of Satan, like that lady had just before the party started, or if he was impressed enough by this party that he wanted to hire her. "It is unusual but most importantly, Keith and Aiman are happy. And so are the people important to them."

The man nodded, although uncertainty, bordering on disapproval, was still written all across his face. "Do you have a name card perhaps? I might have a job for you."

It was a potential client! Gwen bit down on a smile and dug into her bag for her name card. "Here you go, Mr, uh –"

"Shaw. Leon Shaw. Thank you."

Gwen's hand was halfway out when the name registered. But by then, Leon Shaw, private secretary to the King, had taken her name card and walked back out into the party, without even a word of thanks. Gwen let out a breath. A job with the royal family would definitely boost her standing in the company and not even Viv's golden aura would take it away from her. Quietly, Gwen muttered a quick prayer that Leon Shaw was impressed enough with her work and would contact her.

The string quartet started up their last song in the set and Gwen moved away from the corner she was standing in. Soon, the guests would be invited out to watch the fireworks finale and Gwen had to make sure everything was in place. The party was only as good as the finale and now, Gwen had an added reason to make sure this was a finale to remember.

As the fireworks exploded overhead into the star lit sky, her phone buzzed.

"Gwen Degrance," she said into the phone as she stared up into the sky. A skull burst in the night sky, drawing gasps from the crowd.

Catrina's cool voice poured into Gwen's ear. "Gwen. How is the party?"

"Excellent. Everything went off without a hitch. The grooms have tears in their eyes, their parents are happily sloshed and right now, the fireworks are making everyone ooh and ahh. It might be my best party ever."

Gwen knew better than to expect praise but when all Catrina's said was a curt good, before hanging up, she was still disappointed.

"Never thought I'd ever see skull and cross bone fireworks."

"They are bespoke fireworks. Cost a pretty penny." The man next to her was tall but once again, the darkness ensured that she didn't get a good look at his face. "Friend of the groom or the groom?"

His teeth flashed in the dim light and lazy amusement laced his voice. "The groom. You?"

"I organised this."

He turned to look at her. "You did an amazing job. I never thought a gothic engagement party would be so … so joyous."

The dim light was flattering to his face, highlighting his square jaw and flecks of gold in his hair. "Thank you. I'm good at what I do."

He smiled again, but before he could say anything, someone called his name. Or at least, that was what he said apologetically. "I have to go."

"Sure," said Gwen to empty air.

By the time Gwen arrived at work the next week, Viv was already in Catrina's office, their heads bent close. Gwen didn't need to be in the office to know that they were probably gushing over photos of Viv's masquerade party. Rolling her eyes, she slipped into her small cubicle and switched on her computer. Like she did every morning, she sipped at her coffee and opened up her email, dreaming of the day she would run her own business, no longer slave to the whims and fancies of Catrina.

A thank you email from Aiman.

Headline news from Camelot Daily.

Gwen placed her coffee down carefully and blinked. In her inbox, staring back at her, was an email from a Merlin Emrys.

"Hey Elena." Gwen leaned back and called to her cubicle neighbour and best friend. "How many Merlin Emrys do you know?"

"Only the one who's Prince Arthur's right hand man. Why? It's not a common name."

Gwen tried for nonchalant. "No reason. Just a thought."

Thankfully, Elena must have been busy because she merely grunted in reply and went back to her computer.

Gwen stared at her inbox again. Merlin Emrys. Then she frowned. The email address wasn't from the royal offices but from a personal email address, which was pretty odd. She opened it. It was only a few lines long, introducing himself then saying, quite cryptically, that he had a job for her but because of confidentiality reasons, they couldn't discuss it over email or in her office. Would she mind if she met him at a café that evening to discuss the job?

It was all very cloak and dagger. And very suspicious.

Gwen looked back at Viv and Catrina. Vivian might be a pain in the neck but she wouldn't stoop so low as to play a prank on Gwen. And Elena was still frowning at her computer screen. There was no way this was Elena's doing. The last time she'd arranged a surprise party for Gwen's birthday, she had blabbed to Gwen about it within an hour of planning it.

It could be real.

Gwen read it again.

This is of a sensitive nature and highly confidential.

Well then. If the royal Penn family thought that her ability to organise a gothic engagement party meant she could handle this secretive, sensitive matter, then who was she to say no? Her eyes went back to Viv and Catrina. Now, they were laughing over something Catrina had said. Viv might have been given Lord Cenred's masquerade party but a job with the royal family would be quite the coup.

I am free to meet you at Charlie's this evening at 5pm.

She wasn't, really but Lance wouldn't mind the rain check. She wondered what they needed. Royal families had their own staff to manage their complex and opulent lives. Perhaps the crown prince was getting married, finally, and they wanted her to manage the wedding arrangements. For some reason, the kingdom had gotten it into their head that he was getting older and needed to procure a bride and produce an heir as soon as possible. Newspapers and gossip magazines printed pages of words, speculating who would make the best match, comparing net worth and qualifications of various women. Despite Elena's bemoaning about how clinical it was, Gwen thought they might have the right idea – marriage should be a matching of minds, goals and status.

A reply popped up on her screen.

Good. I'll see you then.

All these years, Arthur had never known his father to be anything other than serious. He supposed that when his father finally decided to tell a joke, it might as well be a whopper.

"That's a pretty good joke, Dad. Your poker face is also very good. If this is it, I still have –"

"Sit down. I'm not done."

With a sigh, Arthur sank back into the chair. "You can't be serious. It's bad enough that the council is constantly shoving women at me. That 'important meeting' last week turned out to be a blind date with a very nice and very confused woman. Now, you're just going straight to marriage? I am not marrying Mithian. The last time I saw her, we were in secondary school!"

"I met her and her father last week. Mithian would make a suitable bride."

Arthur pressed his lips together.

"I think a merger between our two families would be a good thing." Uther leaned back into his chair and pinned Arthur with a look, one that Arthur knew very well. "And you need to get started on an heir."

"We aren't in the medieval ages when people married for power or land or babies." What Arthur didn't say was that if he was lucky enough to get married, it would be because he was head over heels in love with the woman. He had said that before only to have his father laugh at him.

"Do you have a serious girlfriend?"

"No," said Arthur grudgingly. "Not since Sophia and that was a disaster."

"You're not getting any younger. I had you when I was your age and the council doesn't like the fact that you're not married."

This time, Arthur couldn't help himself. "You're not married."

"I was, until your mother died." Only the slight tensing of Uther's jaw suggested that he felt anything at Arthur's words, but it was enough for guilt to swamp Arthur. Bringing up his mother was a low blow.

"I'm sorry." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sure you have my best interests at heart but marrying someone I don't know –"

"Here." Uther slid a folder across the desk towards him. "Everything you need to know about Mithian."

Arthur stared at the folder. "Does Mithian have a folder containing everything she needs to know about me?"

Uther nodded. "And unlike you, Mithian is willing to consider marriage to you."

"Why on earth would she?"

"Because it makes sense. Look what happened with Sophia – she wanted you because of your money and your position in this city. Mithian already knows the world we live in."

"I loved Sophia," muttered Arthur. It had been two years and it still hurt. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever move on.

"Exactly and she hurt you badly. Marry Mithian. All our cards are on the table and we know what we are offering each other."

"And what exactly are we offering each other?"

Uther folded his arms across his chest. "She will have enough money from us to rescue her failing estate and you will have a young, healthy wife to bear children with."

Arthur scowled at his father. "I'll lend her the money she needs to rebuild that monstrosity of a castle. Plus, I'd even work on the redesign for free. And she's a person, not a brood mare."

"She knows what is expected from her," said Uther coldly. "And you don't have access to your funds without my permission. Nor should you be tinkering around designing castles. You're the crown prince, not some architect."

Arthur huffed and crossed his arms. He didn't want to rehash this old argument again.

"This kingdom needs an heir and you need to provide one. Soon," continued Uther, clearly unconcerned with Arthur's mood.

"This is ridiculous." Arthur stood. "I am not going to marry because it's expedient. When I marry, it will be because I love my wife and I want to spend my life with her."

Uther gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Please. I don't know where you get your romantic notions from. Your mother and I were an arranged marriage and it worked out well. A marriage is more a business partnership than anything, especially when you're in our position."

"No. I am not marrying Mithian."

"Fine."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Was his father giving in so easily?

"I'll make you a deal. Date Mithian and some other suitable women for six months and at the end of it, if you don't want to marry any of them, I'll never mention it again."

"Are you serious?" Arthur sat down again.

Uther sighed. "Make a good faith attempt to find a wife. It is the least you can do. After six months, if this doesn't work out, I'll tell the council to stop interfering in your personal life."

Arthur could do six months of dating Mithian. He barely remembered her but who knew, he might, as his father hoped, fall in love with her. And if this stopped the blatant matchmaking attempts by the council and the rest of Albion, all the better.

"Fine. Six months and no guarantees."

Uther nodded.

"And I want a contract drawn up. I love you, Dad, but I don't trust you."

AN: Writing a modern AU! I miss them. (Don't worry. Pirates will be updated and finished soon, well as soon as I can, that is.)