"Are you ever going to read it?" Merlin asked.

Arthur looked up from his desk to where the sorcerer slouched in a chair by the table, fiddling with the lacings of one of the braces on his wrists. "Maybe you haven't noticed, Merlin, but I have a lot of work to do today. I don't have the time to indulge your curiosity." He scratched his signature onto the topmost parchment and set it aside, making sure to rustle it to emphasize the point. Then he glanced toward Gareth and winked. He couldn't keep the charade up if his co-conspirator couldn't keep his mouth shut. The boy grinned and turned back to his book. "Have you found Morgana yet?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow at the change in subject. "Not for lack of trying. But I'm not looking for a lost shoe. She doesn't want to found, and nothing I've done has been able to get through what she's put up to keep me from finding her. On the bright side, she hasn't been able to spy on us, so all we've managed to do is be mutually aggravating."

"That sounds familiar," Arthur said as he shuffled through the reports.

"Yes. You're extremely aggravating. Now are you going to read Princess Mithian's letter, or are you just going to leave me in the dark?" Merlin asked. Ironic, given that he was sitting in a patch of late morning sunshine.

"I'm the King, Merlin. It's in my purview to ignore a servant's questions." He glanced over the next parchment and grimaced. Yet another sticking point in the negotiations with Nemeth. This list was unending, though the major issue, the one Arthur had worried over the most, had been resolved just that morning with the arrival of Mithian's letter. He had already read it, but Merlin didn't know that. For the moment, leaving him in the figurative dark was amusing, given his fidgeting over the letter's contents. Arthur would tell him soon enough. "Mithian's letter is not what I'm worried about right now. If you can think of something to do about the wine merchants and their complaints about the new tariffs, then I'll think about the letter. I'm sick of their complaints."

"They're merchants. It's part of their job to complain about how high their taxes are." Merlin's brow knit in annoyance when he unwound one of the knots in the lacing. He set about re-tying it. "Is this about the honey wine imports?"

"Yes."

Merlin counted something off on his fingers, then shrugged. "You could remind them that ten years ago, imports were a third the current levels, and the taxes were twice what they are now. If they're unhappy with what they're paying, you could suggest a return to historic levels and see if that pleases them. It's just a suggestion, though." He turned toward Gareth, smiling faintly at the laugh the boy failed to smother.

"I'll be sure to pass it along. It'll be fun to see which shade of red the guild representative will turn this time." He scratched his signature onto another parchment and set it aside. "Speaking of honey wine. Have you quite forgiven Gwaine yet? The merchants' complaints aren't the only ones I'm tired of hearing."

"Of course I have," Merlin smiled, "But if it irritates him to drag it out further, then I'm going to."

"It's irritating me." Arthur glanced back up at the sorcerer, "And since my opinion matters more, you ought to tell him. It's been three weeks. And he didn't act alone. Gaius gave him that potion. They were only trying to help."

"I already talked to Gaius. He said he wouldn't do it again. It's just funny to hear Gwaine come up with outlandish apologies. Besides," his smile fell away, "I'm tired of people deciding things for me and doing things to me without so much as a 'by your leave'. I'm as recovered as I'm going to get, and I'm fully capable of making my own decisions. I'm not-" Merlin checked himself, drawing in a long breath before the growing heat in his voice could boil over. "I am not a child. Nor am I defenseless," he finished.

"I know that," Arthur said softly.

"Sometimes it feels like you're the only one." Merlin melted back against the chair, his thumb tracing lazy circles over his right arm. He closed his eyes. Arthur could see he was falling into a grey mood, despite the sunlight.

He watched the sorcerer for a moment, then set his pen aside and took up Mithian's letter. The parchment was still curled, so he rolled it out on the desk and set a weight upon it, smoothing the rest down with a hand. "I was going to draw this all out a little longer, but I guess now seems as good a time as any."

Merlin turned to regard him in that odd way of his- seeing without seeing. "You've already read it, haven't you?" A smile lit his face. "I guess I should have known. Go on, then. What'd she say?"

Arthur cleared his throat and focused on the lines of Mithian's elegant script.

"To His Most Gracious Majesty, Arthur, King of Camelot,

First and foremost, I wish to thank you for your letter and the candor you showed in it. I was not insulted by it. Quite the opposite. When so many seek royal favor by means of flattery and deception, the truth you told came as a breath of fresh air. They say that a happy King makes for a happy kingdom, and I cannot help but think that, had we succumbed to the weight of politics and been wed, that we would have been a most unhappy pair. Perhaps in another world, you and I might have been made for each other. Alas that this is the only world we have. It is best that we face truth, declare that our hearts do not beat as one, and admit it before the bonds of marriage seal an unhappy fate.

Perhaps one day we will meet as friends, for I do not wish for this to break the bonds of friendship that have kept our two lands at peace for so long. And, I must admit, I wish to meet this blacksmith's daughter who has managed to win the heart of Arthur Pendragon. She must be a very great lady indeed, to trump a princess. I would give half my kingdom to be so loved.

I wish you all the happiness in the world, and may God grant you many long years together in peace and prosperity.

By My Own Hand, Mithian, Princess of Nemeth"

Arthur re-rolled the parchment and glanced up at Merlin. "I'm waiting for the 'I told you so'."

Merlin laughed, his gray mood driven away. "I don't think I need to say it. What are you going to do now that you're free again?" He straightened, waiting.

"First off, I'm using you as a distraction." Merlin rolled his eyes. "Go find Guinevere and keep her busy until sunset."

"How?"

"I don't know," Arthur scowled, "You're supposed to be clever. I'm sure you'll think of something."

Merlin drummed his fingers on the table, "Well, I suppose Gaius is always needing some herb or another from the forest. And if you want Guinevere out of the way for a while, I'm guessing it'd be a good idea to have Elyan come along, too. So. To the forest we go." He rolled to his feet and headed for the door, Cabal at his heels, then paused with the door half-open and turned to Arthur. He opened his mouth, about to say something, and stopped. A broad grin spread across his face and he slipped through the door, closing it gently behind him.

"I do believe I'm being mocked by my own servants," Arthur sighed.

"I didn't say anything," Gareth said, his eyes wide.

"I know." Arthur folded his hands together to keep from fidgeting. It was one thing to plan a proposal. It was quite another to set those plans into motion. If he was stupidly nervous now, how much worse would it be when he faced Guinevere later? 'Love does make fools of us all.' "George is gathering the candles?" Gareth nodded. "Go and tell Gaius he needs to have Merlin gather some herb or another from the forest, so if anyone asks. . . "

"Everyone will have the story straight. Yes, sire," Gareth grinned and practically bounded out of the room. Arthur watched him go. The boy's energy was appalling.

He crossed over to the window and watched the people coming and going in the square below. With Midsummer's Day fast approaching, the city was green and awash in brilliant sunlight. Leon's prediction of a peaceful summer had come true, and even Pynell's complaints hadn't dimmed the bright outlook. The only thing left to trouble Arthur's mind on this day was a woman, and her answer to a simple, but impossible question. And sunset was hours away. 'This is going to be a long day.'


They had filled the room with candles. In the last light of evening, with the sunset painting the sky with broad strokes of purples and pinks and the first of the night's stars sparking in the velvet darkness, Guinevere's humble little house looked magical. Merlin himself couldn't have conjured anything lovelier. The only element the scene wanted was the woman herself.

They'd returned from their excursion to the forest. Arthur had seen Merlin on his way out of the castle, but not Guinevere, who was likely seeing to Drusilla's evening needs and would be home soon. It couldn't happen quickly enough for Arthur's liking. His stomach had been in knots for ages, and a single, circular line of thought had been making its rounds through his head for nearly as long. "She'll say 'yes'. Of course she will. Why wouldn't she? She loves me, and I love her, so of course the answer will be 'yes'. But what if I'm just trying to make myself feel better? What if I'm just imagining things? What if she says 'no'? But she won't say 'no'. She'll say 'yes'. Of course she will."

Arthur was near to wearing a track in the floor from his constant pacing when the door rattled and opened. He spun on a heel, his breath catching at the sight of Guinevere illuminated by dozens of candles. "Arthur," she said, eyes sparkling, "What's all this?"

"Guinevere," he breathed, smiling in spite of his nervousness. "Come here." He held his hands out to her, and she closed the gap between them, her hands small in his. He led her to a chair by the table and sat her down. Then he dropped to a knee in front of her, still holding her hands. Her eyes widened, and the delight fell away from her face, replaced by something like shock. "Guinevere," he said again, rolling the sound of her name around on his tongue. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

She gasped, uncomprehending for a moment. Then she flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around him, her shoulders shaking with what Arthur hoped were happy tears. He put an arm around her, winding his fingers into her hair, just holding her. "I'm confused," he said after a while, "Is that a 'yes'?"

Guinevere pulled away from him. Her dark eyes sparkled like starlight, her smile shining like the sun at spring's first dawn. "I'm sorry. Yes. Yes. With all my heart, yes," she laughed. He returned her smile, speechless. Overwhelmed. What else was there to say? What else was there to do, except slip the ring onto her finger and gaze into those endless eyes? The eyes of his love, and his future Queen.


It didn't take a genius or a scrying spell to know what Arthur was up to, and no matter how the King tried to hide it from the knights, he hadn't been able to. They had gathered, the five of them plus Merlin, and were waiting on the stairs at the main palace doors. Enjoying the warm air, the stars singing above, and the gentle camaraderie they had all come to know.

Merlin leaned forward, elbows on his knees and eyes slipping shut as he soaked it all in. Even without eyes, he could read the other men's moods. One might even say his reading of them was better for it, because he couldn't see their surfaces and the expressions they used to hide what they felt. Gwaine and Percival were jubilant. Leon, confused but tentatively excited, while Elyan brooded in an upbeat silence, pondering what Guinevere's answer- whichever one it might be- would mean for both of them. And Lancelot . . . For all the happiness he wished for Guinevere, Merlin knew the knight wished things had gone differently.

His attention drifted away from the knights, senses stretching out wide through the night air, taking in the bright moods of the city's people, the quiet thrum of the earth below, and all the stars above. Merlin wasn't sure when he had begun to hear their song again. Their music had, softly, slipped back into his mind without his noticing until one night, he realized they had been there all along, clear as the bells of Camelot.

A new note sounded, like a breeze through harp strings, a melody written by time or Fate winding a new voice into its song. Merlin opened his eyes, a smile widening on his face.

"Merlin? What is it?" Lancelot asked.

Suddenly, all the world seemed to be celebrating at least as much as Camelot's King- and future Queen- must have been. "She said 'yes'," Merlin laughed, "She said 'yes'."