A/N: As always, thanks for the reviews. I think, two chapters ago, I said there were two chapters left. But uh, I was wrong, haha. I think this is going to end up at 13 chapters, but then again, I've been wrong before. :P

When all of the beauty turns to pain
When all of the madness falls like rain
As long as we crash and we collide
We will be gorgeous, you and I.
- Idina Menzel

"Lady Morgana," Hunith greets with a tentative smile.

Morgana dips her head as she enters the cottage. Her heart palpitating nervously, she fingers the gown in her hands.

"Please," Hunith says, gesturing to a chair, "what can I do for you, milady?"

Morgana takes a seat and unfolds the dress, the green one that Merlin likes so much, the one he always says brings out her eyes. "I'd like to look nice for the banquet tonight, but I'm afraid I've torn off a button. I was hoping you'd be able to help."

Hunith looks at her with a smile that lets her know exactly how much she's buying the story. After all, it's one button. Surely there's someone within the castle capable of reattaching a button.

"Of course, my dear. It should only take a few minutes if you don't object to waiting."

"Not at all."

Morgana watches Hunith in silence for a few moments, watches her slender hands thread the needle quickly and able. She has Merlin's long fingers, his dark knuckles. And she has his eyes, those kind blue eyes that never quite reveal all their secrets, but promise to keep yours just the same.

After a moment passes, Morgana asks, "How do you find Camelot?"

"I like it," the older woman replies gently. "The work is not so varied, the air not so clean, but I get to see Merlin more often than before."

"I'm sure he's a comfort to you."

"He is," Hunith murmurs, pulling the thread through. Cautiously, she glances up and adds, "To you as well, I think."

Morgana drops her eyes to the ground. "He is a comfort to everyone," she protests quietly.

"But after spending so long away, it must help to have someone like my son to return to."

She doesn't quite know what Hunith is trying to tell her, but then again, she's not sure what Merlin has told his mother about her either. Perhaps Hunith doesn't know about her magic.

"I won't hurt him," she promises softly.

To her surprise, Hunith smiles. "Milady, flour is of little value without the yeast that makes it rise," she says. Still sewing, she lifts her eyes to gaze at Morgana. "Sometimes two things are better together than they ever could be apart."

There's something about Hunith's sincerity, that same quality that makes her open up to Merlin, and Morgana finds herself saying, "He asked me to marry him. Did you know he was going to ask me?"

"He told me of his intentions, but I didn't know that he had already done so."

"It was only this morning."

"And what did you answer?" Hunith prompts kindly, tying off the thread.

"I haven't yet had the chance to answer."

"But you mean to accept him?"

Morgana is quiet, searching for a way to articulate her swirling thoughts.

Hunith, taking pity on her for her speechlessness, she supposes, presses the dress back into her hands and says, "Here you are, milady. Good as new, I should think." Her voice soft, almost motherly, she presses, "Now, what are you so afraid of?"

"Marriage," Morgana confesses, a crease in her brow. "I'm afraid that once we get married, we'll become exactly like every other marriage that came before us. I'm afraid of . . . giving up my freedom in order to obey my husband."

Hunith reaches out to lift her chin. "Not every man strives to dominate his wife. Do you believe I've raised my son to be such a husband?"

"Of course not," Morgana says quickly. "But that's the only thing I've seen. How can we be any different when we've been given no good examples?"

Hunith smiles. "You can choose to be different."

Morgana takes a deep breath, calming herself down. Merlin always talks about destiny, but what about choice? Maybe they are two sides of one coin after all.

Standing, she smiles gratefully. She takes a deep breath and says, "Thank you, Hunith. You've greatly eased my mind."

"You're quite welcome, milady," Hunith replies with a slight bow of her head. A sparkle in her eye, she adds quietly, "When you feel yourself doubting, remember, love is the greatest of God's gifts."

"You've been avoiding me all evening," comes a soft, accusing voice.

Morgana spins to face her lover, his face aglow in the low candlelight, the formal clothes Arthur's ordered for him hugging his lanky form.

"No, I haven't," she protests quietly.

She's a fair enough liar when she needs to be, but never when she's lying to him.

Merlin's crooked smile is a gentle, indirect accusation. "Do you not like being seen in public with me anymore?" he teases.

As the guest of honor, he should be enjoying this night, basking in the attention or at least conversing with as many people as he can. But instead he's sought her out.

"Well," she smiles, "when Arthur and Gwen dress you in such fine clothing, it makes me look so plain in comparison."

"What are you talking about? You are the most gorgeous woman here."

And she can see in his eyes that he means it. Suddenly, her heart is racing as it did in their first days together, when he'd compliment her and she would try futilely to hide the blush that would rise to her cheeks, try to hide her feelings from the world.

"You have many admirers yourself tonight," she tells him.

He follows her gaze as she looks around the room, and they both can see the young women ogling him openly. Before, he would get not-always-unwelcome attention from the kitchen girls and other girls on the serving staff. They'd smile at him, and he would blush in that awkward, disarming way he has. Now, though, the women are free women, even high-born.

He swallows nervously and turns back to her, a pleading look on his face.

On any other night, she'd gather him up and shuffle him away from their false airs, not throw him to the wolves. But tonight . . . tonight she's still reeling from his proposal and attempting to reorient herself in a world that's changed so much, and yet hasn't changed at all.

Softly, she says, "You shouldn't keep them waiting."

Merlin nods, his shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly. It's just like him to not press her, to not push for an answer or even an explanation.

Instead, he offers a slight smile and says, "Of course not. Good evening, Lady Morgana."

She watches him walk off towards Arthur and Gawain before she snags a goblet of wine from a passing servant and gulps it down.

Morgana stares down at Merlin, admiring the moonlight as it falls onto his already-pale skin, his dark hair. Gently, she traces a finger along his jaw.

"Morgana," he groans, the hint of a smile on his lips. "It's not even morning yet."

"How do you know?" she accuses in a whisper. "Your eyes are closed."

He nestles into her neck with a low grumble. "Because I know. My body hasn't had enough sleep yet," he chuckles.

Her fingers dancing lightly over the furrows in his brow, Morgana has to concede that point. He works too hard. Even now, it's as if he's proving something to the kingdom, and he works even harder than he used to. Of course he needs his rest.

But how can she sleep when there's so much on her mind?

Settling back against the pillows, she finds a comfortable spot against him and asks quietly, "Why do you want to marry me?"

Merlin picks his head up to look at her. "Because I love you," he tells her, as if it's that simple.

With a sigh, she strokes his hair back from his forehead. "But we've loved each other this long, lasted this long, without marriage. So why now?"

"Because you're back now. Because I've waited for you. Because nothing seems to make much sense without you."

"People in Camelot marry for power, or money, never for love."

He flips onto his back and, an arm beneath his head, stares at the fabric comprising the top of the canopy. "That is not how it is in Ealdor. Life is hard. Sometimes all two people have is each other."

She can tell just by his voice that she's upset him. A delicate frown gracing her lips, Morgana slides over him so he can't avoid her eyes. Her wavy hair falls against his chest, blocking the moonlight.

"I'm scared," she tells him honestly.

Concern in his deep blue eyes, he reaches a hand up to caress her cheek and asks, "Why?"

"Will you love me as you always have?"

"How could you ask such a thing?"

"And when we disagree before Arthur, you will not undermine me? You will not claim superiority simply because you are my husband?"

To her surprise, he lets out a soft laugh. "Is that what this is about?" he asks. "Morgana . . ." When he sees the fear in her gaze, he leans up to press a gentle, reassuring kiss to her lips. "I don't wish to own you. I want to marry you because I can't imagine myself without you. And I want the life that marriage can bring."

"Children?" she asks with raised brows.

He nods. "But only if you do, too."

She falls back against the pillows and leans into him, smiling against his collarbone. "I do," she murmurs.

She's never confessed that to anyone before. She's always been strong, confident Morgana, never in need of a helping hand, never in possession of a motherly bone in her body. She's been charitable for sure, and like an older sister to Mordred, but no one would ever accuse her of having motherly desires.

But she feels safe with Merlin, and she can tell him what she can't tell others.

He kisses her forehead. "I don't want your power, Morgana," he comforts her. "Or your influence, or your status. I just want you. I want us."

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I know you; I know you're not like other men."

"As long as you promise me that you're not after me for my good looks," he laughs.

She smacks him lightly with a pillow. "I don't know if I can marry a man who's vainer than I," she teases.

"Luckily, I need my beauty sleep, so you won't have to put up with my chatter anymore tonight."

Morgana smiles and turns onto her side, allowing him to curl against her. He drapes an arm across her waist, holding her gently, and presses a soft kiss to her neck.

"'Night, my lady," he murmurs sleepily.

"Good night," she breathes, succumbing to the warmth she feels in his arms, finally succumbing to sleep.

Their marriage is a test, meant to gauge how the people would react to a union between a member of the royal household and a former servant. Morgana has fallen off the people's radar since she left, but Merlin has been in their hearts. They care about him, and they wouldn't see him married to someone who didn't care for him.

They're accepted together, which is good news to Arthur and Gwen, for more reasons than one.

If Morgana had it her way, the ceremony would be small, intimate, private. Exactly like their relationship. They're not meant for public affairs or banquet halls or grand celebrations. They haunt each other in abandoned corridors, seek each other out in empty chambers, steal moments in secluded corners.

But when the banns are read, the response from the townspeople is so buoyant that they have no choice but to open the ceremony to the public. Even so, no one can anticipate the crowd. As they sit down to the feast, Morgana realizes with a quiet smile that the streets are as jubilant, though not quite as raucous, as they were following Arthur's coronation ceremony.

He's always been the invisible hero, the one who hides his abilities and stays in the background to bide his time, always working from the shadows. She's struck by just how much she's missed during her time with the Druids, just how much he's grown into his destiny. She slides her hand into his, smiling when he looks to her and squeezes her fingers, and she realizes that she's part of that destiny now.

Clad in only a nightgown, Morgana shivers involuntary as she sits at the edge of the bed. The mid-autumn night is cool, and even with the fire blazing in the hearth, there's a chill hanging in the air.

She gasps softly as another shiver runs through her. She's nervous, she realizes. Which is silly. This is no different than any other night.

Except for the band on her finger.

Contemplatively, she twists the ring around her finger and takes a deep breath. There's no reason to be nervous. She's never felt safer with anyone than she does with Merlin, and she will feel that comfort tonight. But the minutes seem to drag on as she waits. She watches the flames crackle, watches the embers float upward into the chimney, all the while trying to forget how slowly the time passes.

The fire jumps as the door opens and he shuffles into the room. The chill disperses, a tingling warmth suffusing her. He's shed his jacket, his tunic's untucked, and his hair is slightly tousled, but even after the feast he looks relatively put-together.

And calm.

Smiling softly, he sits down next to her and intertwines their fingers. His ring presses into her palm, the metal cool against her skin, sending a reassuring prickle through her veins and straight to her heart. He's not expected to wear a ring, and no one would have thought twice if only she wore one.

But his ring is a promise, a vow that she's not simply property, that this is more than just a transaction of capital and power. It's a love-match, and that band around his finger means his heart is hers.

"Sorry," he breathes. Chuckling softly, he explains, "I got cornered by Gwen and Gaius and Arthur in turn."

"What did they want?" she asks with a smile.

"To give me advice," he grins. "I don't think anyone's realized that I've been staying in your rooms since you got back."

She leans into him, sliding an arm around his waist. "They had to have known, right?"

Merlin shrugs. "But they told me to treat you well, with respect. Arthur even threatened me slightly." He slides a hand to her cheek, brushes his thumb along her cheekbone. His expression is serious when he says, "Morgana, I don't want to break you."

She presses a kiss to his lips and murmurs, "Merlin, you've shown me what it is to know myself, to find myself in another person. We're setting off on this together, and there's no one I'd rather have by my side. . . . Because I love you, Merlin."

He breaks into a smile, his eyes shining with pure bliss. Laughing quietly, Morgana pulls him down for another kiss.

No more needs to be said. The self-doubt that so often plagues her disappears when he's there. She's been so guarded, and she would have fought back against any other man. But Merlin's opened up a side of her she hadn't known existed, his goodness pulling her back from the darkness when she teeters on the edge. Any other man would have taken a glance at the shields protecting her heart and would have retreated in favor of an easier conquest. Merlin, though, with his quiet persistence, his unending patience, is the foundation beneath a fortress, silently supporting her until the end.

No, he could never break her. With his care and compassion, she's no longer fragile. This marriage won't break her either, will simply make them stronger.

In fact, the only thing he's broken are her defenses, but, as she kisses her new husband and her heart spills over with love, she finds that she doesn't mind in the least.