Whoa! Talk about a huge response! You guys are the cheese to my macaroni. Special love, thanks and lots and lots of ALE go to DementedViper, star-fire-dreamer, HopeCoppice, Yvy, BloodredCrimsonhands, Dragonrider2203, Hogaboom/Marmite (lol), Naomi (happy holidays to you too!) and purplewindow. Also to whoever added me to the Destiny Awaits C2.

For anyone who's wondering about the gallows law, it isn't a real law (to my knowledge), and I didn't make it up either - I pinched it from The Crystal Prison by Robin Jarvis. ^^'

DISCLAIMED

Merlin grinned and stepped back to admire his handiwork. Okay sure, the door was a kind of mish-mash of various woods, and yeah, maybe it didn't quite hang straight but…well. At least it opened and closed, though Merlin had discovered that you had to grab the handle and kind of yank upwards so that it didn't scrape loudly along the floor. And if you locked it, the top stuck in the doorframe and became quite difficult to get out…but imperfections gave a thing character. Arthur often said that about Merlin, after all.

So Merlin was (mostly) quite pleased with his complete and utter hash up of a perfectly simple job, and strolled off down the corridor, whistling merrily. He even attempted to spin the hammer in his hand in a fit of pique. It spun once, flew up with the momentum, and the handle hit Merlin squarely in the face before crashing into the floor very loudly.

Merlin staggered around, moaning and clutching his eye. He saw the hammer lying innocently in the middle of the corridor and glared at it balefully. "Take that!" He snapped through his hand, kicking it hard. It rebounded off the wall and slammed into his foot. Merlin yelled.

A passing servant heard the commotion and peeked around the corner of the corridor. Seeing a lanky, dark-haired boy hopping on one foot, clutching his face and yelling obscenities at a hammer on the floor, the servant promptly decided to take another route to the cleaning closet.

Presently, the throbbing in Merlin's foot and face receded slightly and he stood on both feet, glaring at the hammer. With a toss of his head, he growled under his breath and limped away, intent on finding Gwen and teasing her.

For once, luck was with him, and he found Gwen in the seamstress's chambers, sewing away. "How's it going?" He asked cheerfully. Gwen looked up and gasped.

"Oh my – Merlin! Your face!"

"Oh come on." Merlin huffed. "I'm not that bad looking."

"No, Merlin." Gwen laughed worriedly. "I mean…you've got a cut, and your eye is starting to swell up."

"Yes, I thought that might happen." He nodded knowledgably.

When it was clear no further elaboration was forthcoming, Gwen asked, "What happened?"

"Well, see," Merlin lowered his voice, "there was this hammer…"

Gwen raised her eyebrows and stifled a giggle. "You hit yourself in the face with a hammer?"

"No!" Merlin protested, slouching moodily against the doorframe and folding his arms. "It hit me in the face by itself."

"Oh, Merlin." Gwen shook her head, smiling. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Put the lad to work." Ellen snapped as she came in carrying a bundle of white. "I'm fair overrun here, and if he's fetching and carrying, I can do my stitching."

"Sure." Merlin shrugged. "Whatever I can do to help."

Ellen beamed. "Excellent. Come here and hold this…and this…and this…" She flitted about her mannequin, making Merlin hold several things at once as she snipped and cut and pinned white silk and net in the rough shape of a dress. "Wonderful." She declared, standing back. "Now then, what's your name, lad?"

"Merlin." Merlin replied, mystified at how this small woman could possibly make a dress out of the ruffles and lumps of white pinned to the model.

"Well then, Merlin, come here." Ellen moved around to the back of the mannequin and grabbed Merlin's hands, making them hold material together as she sliced down the back with her scissors, pulled a needle and reel of white thread from nowhere and began to sew.

Merlin's eyes widened. Never in his life had he ever seen someone sew so fast, not even Gwen. It was clear how Ellen had won her position of royal seamstress. The stitches were so small and perfect; they could have been done by mice.

Before long, Merlin grew uncomfortable in his position bending over Ellen to hold the material together and tried to shift slightly to ease his aching muscles. Quicker than lightning, Ellen's needle was at his throat and he froze.

"Move again," she hissed. "And I'll use you as a pincushion. Understood?"

Merlin nodded silently, trying not to impale himself on the needle (what would Ellen do if he got blood on the dress?). Ellen glared at him for a moment, then went back to stitching. Merlin swallowed and kept very still. The royal seamstress might have been a small creature who reminded him slightly of a mouse, but she was the scariest person Merlin had ever met.

He wondered what the result would be if Ellen and Nimueh were put in the same room and tried not to grin. The seamstress would put Nimueh in her place and probably put her to work as well!

Ellen, Gwen and another young woman with rosy cheeks and dimples called Orlaith worked non-stop through lunch, Merlin with them. Eventually, half way through the afternoon Merlin was dismissed, and he practically ran from the room, desperate for food.

He was collared in the corridor outside and was relocated (rather forcefully) to the great hall where he hung up white decorations with a dearth of other servants frantic to finish before the evening.

He was becoming rather desperate as the hours wore on and his stomach rumbled louder and louder. So when a lamp-lighter fell from one of the high ladders and broke his ankle, Merlin practically kidnapped him in his hurry to get to Gaius and food.

Gaius was not at all pleased to see him as Merlin kicked open the door, a pale-faced boy in his arms. "Merlin! And oh, not another one!"

"Another?" Merlin queried, lying the boy down on the bench and sneaking over to the larder for some left over bread and apples.

"Everyone's in such a hurry to ready the castle for the wedding, they're not thinking safely." Gaius grumbled, waving a potion under the boy's nose to knock him out and snapping the bone in his ankle back into place quickly. As he looked up and saw Merlin shovelling bread into his mouth as fast as he could, his eyes widened in outrage. "Did you bring him here just to satisfy your stomach?"

Merlin shrugged unapologetically and carried on stuffing his face. Gaius rolled his eyes and went back to setting the bone.

xXx

Arthur, meanwhile, had finished being fitted for his clothes that evening and decided to return to his chambers to see if Merlin had fixed his door. As he rounded the corner and strode to his room, he stopped in his tracks in front of his door and gaped.

Was that shape even possible? Arthur blinked several times, squinted, even tilted his head first to one side, then to the other. Nope. That shape wasn't accepted by his brain, which felt like it was being wrapped around a pole as he stared at the mockery of a door.

How had Merlin created this…this…monstrosity? Arthur stared at the shambles in horror, and shook his head to try and stop the feeling of slight nausea. He chanced another look, then groaned and looked away, practically running down the corridor. He had to find a carpenter to fix that!

He found a carpenter and his apprentice in the courtyard, wheeling away the dismantled gallows and called for them to halt. The apprentice shook like a leaf in a wind as the Prince approached, and the carpenter himself wasn't much better.

"Please, Sire," he begged as Arthur came to stand in front of him. "We only built the gallows. It's our job, naught more. We were only following orders!"

"What?" Arthur stared at him in confusion, then rolled his eyes. "Oh, never mind that, I know it was your job. Look, I wrecked my door this morning and my manservant has completely botched the job of fixing it. Could you possibly –"

"Of course, my Lord!" The carpenter gasped with relief. "It'd be an honour, Sire, really. Garret," he turned to his apprentice, "wheel this back to the shop. I'll see to it immediately, Sire." He assured Arthur.

"Thank you." Arthur nodded. "Oh," he added as the carpenter made to leave. "Don't stare at it for too long. You might throw up."

The man looked alarmed, but nodded anyway. "Thank you, Sire." Arthur nodded, and the man scurried on his way. As he disappeared into the doorway, Arthur caught sight of a page with that distinct Arthur-hunting look he had learned long ago to recognise. Mercifully, he knew more of the palace hideaways and hidden places now than he had when he was an errant nine-year old running from his lessons.

He ducked into a doorway and slipped behind a pillar as the page turned his head in frustration, looking for the wayward Prince. When he looked in the other direction, Arthur made a break for the servant's stairs and dashed inside.

Luck was with him, and the page went on his way, asking passers-by if they had seen the Prince. Arthur grinned and disappeared up the stairwell, shrinking into an alcove as a servant girl scurried past him. As he was wearing nothing fancier than a red shirt and breeches, she paid him no mind and went on her way.

Arthur decided that he wasn't really needed for anything, and headed through the secret passages used by the servants to the small, unused room near the top of the north wing. The north wing was rarely used for anything, but Arthur had discovered as a child the tiny room on the north wall with the door-sized window that led out onto a secret battlement walk. No one else seemed to know it existed, and it provided a view out onto the forests instead of into Camelot where he would be seen.

He sneaked into the room and opened the positively filthy window to the battlements. He would have demanded it be cleaned and properly looked after, but that would draw attention to it, and he didn't want to lose one of the only safe refuges he had in the castle.

The wind was harsh on the north side, but Arthur ignored it, shutting the window behind him and sitting down against the wall. The walkway was less than a metre wide, and the wall didn't even come up to his knees. It was for show, rather than for use. With the buffeting wind and slippery flagstones and tiny wall, the battlement was a death-trap.

But for Arthur, that was part of the appeal.

He had been up there for around half an hour, his face numbed by the wind, when the window opened and another figure stepped uncertainly out onto the battlement. "Arthur?"

"Merlin?" Arthur gaped as his ungainly manservant peered around to spot him, his hair blown flat against his head, his eye decorated with a rather splendid cut and black bruising. "How did you find me?"

"I'm your manservant." Merlin shrugged, shutting the window and eyeing the distance between them and the low wall nervously. "I always know where you go when you want to be alone."

"Hm." Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You know there's a word in that sentence you should pay attention to, Merlin. Do you know what it is? No? It's 'alone'." He glared, hoping the idiot would take the hint.

He didn't.

Arthur sighed in exasperation as Merlin stumbled out onto the walkway and clung to the wall like a limpet, shuffling over to him slowly. "Come here." He rolled his eyes and grabbed Merlin's jacket, yanking him down next to him. "What on earth did you do to yourself?" He asked, nodding at Merlin's black eye.

"What, this?" Merlin gingerly touched the cut under his eye and grimaced. "I got in an argument with the hammer."

"Before or after you created a door that actually hurts to look at?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Honestly, Merlin, shapes like that shouldn't be logically possible."

"Well I do defy logic." Merlin grinned.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me."

There was a silence as Merlin silently marvelled at the view of the wild forests rising in front of them before he turned to his master. "So why are you up here avoiding everyone and sending that page into an early grave?"

"He can't be that bad." Arthur grumbled.

"He fainted." Merlin told him confidentially. "Gaius had to give him a tonic and I promised him I'd find you. You really know how to make servants' lives misery."

"Does that include you?" Arthur asked curiously.

"No, I'm okay with you." Merlin shrugged.

"Damn." Arthur shrugged and turned back to the view. "I was thinking that I was finally doing something right with you."

"Ha ha, very funny." Merlin rolled his eyes, not amused. "Seriously though, why are you up here? It's not exactly the most comfortable place in Camelot." He shifted and grimaced as if to prove his point.

"That's the whole idea." Arthur told him wearily. "If everyone came up here, it wouldn't be a secret anymore."

Merlin laughed. "I never took you for the secrets type."

"I never thought you were either." Arthur remarked dryly. "And look how wrong I was."

"Well magic was a pretty important secret to keep." Merlin said, offended. "Y'know, what with the whole death penalty and all."

"Yeah, yeah." Arthur nudged his shoulder. "Don't pull that with me. For your information, I came up here to escape annoying busybodies like you who seem to insist upon badgering me with their inane questions and unsure congratulations."

"Well I don't fit that bill at all!" Merlin cried indignantly. "For your information, I've no intention of dragging you down –"

"Not that you could, you weakling."

"– before you're ready," Merlin glared. "And my congratulations are completely sincere. I love weddings!"

"So you've said." Arthur rested his arm on his knee and stared out to the forests. "But Merlin, what sort of wedding is this? I didn't exactly propose to her romantically, and I can't expect her to…you know…do a real wife's duties." He ducked his head embarrassedly.

Merlin looked confused. "A wife's duties?"

"Producing an heir, you idiot." Arthur snapped at his knees.

"Oh." Merlin blinked, then looked at him. "Well why not? I mean, you love her, don't you?"

"What sort of question is that?" Arthur spluttered, looking up indignantly.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Uh…the obvious one? Arthur, come on. Do you love her or not?"

"I…" Arthur stared at his knees again. "No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know!" He yelled finally, turning to Merlin with a kind of desperate look in his eyes. "I didn't exactly plan this, you know."

"Yes you did." Merlin said mildly, examining his nails. "You told me of the gallows law last night. You had the whole night to think on it. Surely you thought ahead?" He laughed, looking at Arthur. The Prince flushed and dropped his gaze. Merlin gaped. "You didn't think further than rescuing her?"

"Not exactly." Arthur mumbled.

Merlin huffed, scandalised and leaned his head back against the wall. "And you call me an idiot. Look, Gwen loves you, you know."

"She's a fool."

"Look who's talking." Merlin shot back. "Gwen's loved you for a while now – it doesn't take a genius to see it."

"Obviously, otherwise you wouldn't have worked it out."

Merlin narrowed his eyes at him. "Nice. Look, if she can admit her feelings, so can you. Do you love her or not?"

"…"

"Arthur…"

"Fine! Yes." Arthur frowned at the forests, seeming a little surprised by his own words. "Yes. I do."

Merlin restrained the urge to do a happy dance – on this ridiculously thin battlement, he'd be dead before you could say "Merlin you bumbling buffoon." As it was, he grinned wide enough to split his face in two. "I knew it!" His eyes danced and Arthur blushed and looked away.

"Shut up, Merlin."

"Yes, Sire." Merlin nodded, but kept up his silly grin.

Arthur sighed and stood up. "Come on. It's getting close to sunset – wedding time."

Merlin barely managed not to giggle as he followed Arthur, edging along the walkway and hugging the wall. "I love weddings!" He squeaked.

"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur jumped gracefully through the window, turning just in time to see Merlin's toe catch on the edge and send him sprawling ungainly across the dusty floor. "Well done."

"Ow." Merlin got up, wincing painfully.

Arthur smirked and clapped a hand on Merlin's shoulders. "Come on. Let's get dressed up."

xXx

Gwen was more nervous than she had ever been in her entire life. She waited as Ellen and Orlaith finished fixing up the dress on the mannequin in the other room – she had been banished in the traditional way of not allowing the bride to see her dress before it was on her.

There was this other tradition; she frowned as she recognised the footsteps coming down the corridor, which said that a groom shouldn't see a bride before the wedding.

That didn't seem to be stopping Arthur; she smiled as his familiar face peeked around the corner, saw her and smiled. "Just came to wish you good luck."

"I'll need it." She gasped. "I'm so nervous."

Arthur stepped into the room and stood in front of her, head bowed. "Me too," he admitted. "It's not like either of us has done this before. But don't worry about it." He added, smiling. "We'll be fine. They won't hate you. At least not until the wine runs out." He quipped, and Gwen laughed.

"You father has to perform the ceremony doesn't he?" She asked worriedly after a moment. "What if something goes wrong? What if –"

"Guinevere, Guinevere," Arthur took her hands in his comfortingly and Gwen's breath hitched. "Stop worrying." She peeked up into his eyes, bluer than cornflowers, and felt herself relax. She felt safer around Arthur than any other. "You'll be fine." He smiled. "We both will."

"I know." She nodded, taking a deep breath and smiling at him. "I still can't believe you'd do this for me."

"I'd do more still." Arthur said without thinking. As Gwen's eyes widened, he flushed and dropped his gaze, and her hands. "I have to go. Besides," he jerked his head at the door to the other room. "Ellen will probably kill me if she finds me."

"Probably." Gwen nodded. "Thank you." She added earnestly as he turned to leave.

"What for?" He grinned, his golden hair flaring like a halo around his head.

"Caring." She said simply. Arthur's eyes softened and he nodded gently, then left. Gwen took a deep breath and twisted her fingers together anxiously. She was not nauseous as she had been before though – now the butterflies in her stomach were fluttering madly and something inside her glowed with excitement.

Interruption came in the form of the door opening and Orlaith giggling and pulling her inside. "Come on!"

"It's ready?" Gwen breathed, hardly able to speak.

"Just." Ellen sighed. "My sweat and blood in this dress, Gwennie, and you're going to look simply wonderful after a bath. Come here."

Gwen gasped as the two women pulled her clothes off and dumped her unceremoniously into a tub of cold water. "It's freezing!"

"You think we can haul kettles of hot water up here for you, girl?" Ellen snapped, yanking the pins from Gwen's hair and lathering it in soap. "You're not Princess yet."

"You will be soon though." Orlaith sighed dreamily. "I wonder what it'll be like for you?"

"Boring." Gwen said, surprised at her own revelation. "Morgana was always at a loss for things to do to occupy herself. And I won't be allowed to clean to pass the time any more I don't suppose."

"Y'know," Ellen said dryly. "Most would count that as a blessing. Tip your head back."

"I prefer…" Gwen obeyed. "To be doing things, not sitting around looking pretty. Not that I'll be much good at that."

"Rubbish." Ellen rinsed the soap from her hair. "Prettiest little maid the castle's ever seen you are. Oh, I wish your father were here to see this. He'd fair burst with pride."

"He'll be watching from heaven." Orlaith nodded assuredly. "Grinning ear-to-ear."

Gwen pretended to herself that the tears streaming down her face came from the soap stinging her eyes.

A few minutes later, Ellen was satisfied that Gwen was clean enough to be a Princess. Gwen felt like her skin had been scrubbed clean off. She was bundled out of the bathtub and towelled dry by Orlaith as Ellen ran to fetch a maid to do Gwen's hair.

She returned with Alice, who sobbed and hugged Gwen before getting to work brushing and combing and twisting and plaiting. She had to work around Ellen and Orlaith, who concentrated on slipping Gwen into her wedding dress. Gwen felt like a doll between three young children playing dress-up.

She was not allowed to see herself in the mirror when they were done – the sun was near to setting, and they had to be on their way. Gwen found herself being hurried along the corridors to one of the back-rooms to the great hall, where the wedding would take place.

Merlin was hurrying too – he had not helped Arthur with his clothes after all, but had been ordered to go to Uther's chambers to check that the King was actually going to attend.

A bruise on his shoulder and a stain spreading across his shirt attested to the fact that yes, the King was coming but no he definitely didn't feel happy about it. Merlin rolled his eyes and nipped to his room to change and pilfer Gaius' ointment for his face and shoulder.

When he went to Arthur's chambers, he found that the Prince had already departed. A look out the window told him that the hour was later than he had believed, and Merlin ran from the room quickly.

There were two side rooms to the great hall – Arthur would come from one, Gwen from the other, and they would meet in the middle. Merlin remembered which was which – left for women, right for men – and grinned as he stepped in to see how Arthur was holding up.

Ale for reviewers! Also for anyone who can't make up dresses in their minds (I can't), I based Gwen's dress on this - http : / / www . lindsayfleming . com / orlaith / orlaith . html without the spaces. obviously. ^^ It also happens to be where I got the name Orlaith.