Arthur paced. The clack of his heels against the floor was loud in his ears, almost irritating. But it kept his mind off the scent of food wafting from the tray George had left on the table, and just how much it made his roiling stomach want to revolt. His hands were shaking. Battle was nothing compared to weddings when it came to rattling one's nerves. He turned toward the window, throwing a glance back at Gareth. "Take that away. I'm not going to eat it. You might as well take it to someone who will," Arthur said, gesturing at the tray. "Eat it yourself, for all I care. Just don't do it here."

Gareth opened his mouth to say something, then his lips curled up in a knowing smile. "Yes, sire," he said. He took up the tray and nudged the door open with a foot, murmuring a greeting to someone outside.

The door closed, and Arthur heard the scuff of a footstep behind him. Apparently, he wasn't meant to have a moment of quiet to himself this morning. "Whatever it is, George," he said without turning from the window, "I don't care. Unless we're under attack, I don't care who does what with anything today. Just have someone decide. Someone else."

"Why is it you're always mistaking me for George?" Merlin asked. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you liked him better. Is it his brass polishing abilities? Because he is quite good at that, but on the whole, I'd say he's rather annoying."

Arthur chuckled, and some of the tension dissolved. "Annoying, yes, but he's a far better servant than you ever were. He's always on time, never wakes me up by yanking the curtains open, doesn't insult me. I could go on if you'd like."

"And yet you never dragged him out on hunts or to battle with you, so I couldn't have been all that terrible at it." Merlin stood by the door as though guarding it, looking. . . noble in the shades of blue and silvery gray Guinevere had chosen for him. Arthur caught a glint of silver at his friend's throat, the pendant he and Guinevere had had made for him. His eyes seemed clearer in the morning light.

"If there's someone who is even more hopeless than you are at staying quiet in the forest, it's George. Given a choice between 'noisy' and 'slightly less noisy', I think I'll have to go with the latter." Arthur grinned and came away from the window, stopping by the table to lean against the back of a chair. His hands were steadier now. "You've been to see Guinevere, then?"

Merlin tilted his head, confused for a moment. Then his fingers brushed the pendant. "Ah. Yes, I did. She's every bit as nervous as you are."

"How did she look?"

"Elaine said she was beautiful, so I took her word for it. To me, she shone as brightly as she usually does." A pensive look colored his expression, "Maybe a little brighter today."

"I'd hope so," Arthur said quietly. He moved around the chair and dropped into it, not caring if it wrinkled his fine clothes. Thinking of Guinevere and of what today meant was making his stomach all fluttery again. "What does the world look like to you now?" he blurted, searching for anything to talk about that didn't involve the wedding. "You said you don't see the surface of things- of people- anymore. What does that mean?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow, thinking. "What does the world look like to me? It's . . . shadowed. Like walking at night under a half moon, and all the color has leached away. Living things sort of glow, and people are like . . . shadows or ghosts lit from within. Some are dim and barely shine at all while others are lit like torches. There are a few- touched by Fate, or whatever you want to call it- who shine like the sun." The sorcerer's uncanny gaze fixed on Arthur and he had a feeling that, to Merlin, he was one of those who shone the brightest. "And . . . It's not something I meant to do. It just started building, and then one day I realized I could sort of sense who was around me. Get a feeling of what they were, not just who. Like I could see past whatever masks they hid behind and know what they were truly like beneath all the layers. I don't know if it makes any sense, but. . . Camelot has been very loud in the past few weeks." Merlin's smile faded a little. He looked tired. Arthur could relate.

"It has been a little overwhelming, hasn't it?" Arthur's gaze wandered across the array of finery laid out on the table. The sword of the King of Camelot, the chain of his Kingship, the robes of state. His crown. The heavy signet ring already weighed his hand down. And soon enough, a golden wedding ring would grace his finger. The anxiety returned full force. Arthur clenched his fist to keep his hand from shaking again. "Am I doing the right thing today?"

"In marrying Guinevere?" Merlin stepped to the table, his fingers spidering along the surface until they brushed over the sword. "King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. A love for the ages." His smile brightened. "There was never any question that your paths were meant to wind together. Not in my mind. Not in hers. You only doubt today because you're nervous, and that will pass soon enough." His head tilted, his gaze flicking toward the window where outside, the bells were ringing again.

Arthur took in a long breath. He shook when he exhaled, so he took another, breathing out slowly and forcing himself into calmness. He rose, waiting until the bells stopped their tolling. "It's not long now."

"No," Merlin said. His fingers slid under the sword and he raised it off the table, the sheathed blade resting across his open palms. He looked up at Arthur. "Are you ready?"

"Not quite." Arthur straightened his shoulders and walked around the table. Merlin turned toward him, took a half step away from the table, and for the second time Arthur could remember, knelt, raising the jeweled blade to the level of his bowed head. "Merlin . . . "

"Your Majesty."

The last of Arthur's anxieties vanished when he wrapped his hands around the sword, as though Merlin's steadfastness had transferred through the blade and into him. "Thank you, Merlin," Arthur said softly. He glanced from the sorcerer to the finery that still lay on the table. "Now are you going to sit there all day, or are you going to help me with the rest of this?"

Merlin laughed and stood. "Just this once, I suppose." He gathered up the chain of Kingship, waiting until Arthur had buckled the sword belt around his waist before stepping up to set the chain over his shoulders, and then the cloak. It was a quiet ritual they had been through so many times before that neither needed to speak until Merlin held the crown up for Arthur. "Are you ready now?"

He nodded, the crown's weight resting easily upon his head for the first time. "Now I am."

There was a knock at the door, and Leon peered in. "Sire, it's time."

"So it is," Arthur said, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

"Good luck." Merlin grinned just as brightly.

The day passed in a series of blurs after that, Arthur's spirits so high he seemed to float wherever he went, answering questions by rote and noticing nothing until the doors of the Great Hall opened to reveal Guinevere, resplendent in purple silk and golden trim. Arthur might have remembered Elyan by her side, and maybe the entire hall was full of people, but in those moments, Guinevere might as well have been the only only other person in the world, her face the only one he ever wanted to see again. He vaguely remembered saying, "Thereto, I plight thee my troth," and slipping a ring onto her finger, but time didn't return to its normal pace until he held his mother's crown- now Guinevere's- and placed it upon his bride's head with the words, "I crown thee, Guinevere, Queen of Camelot."

He took her hands and raised her up to stand beside him, in sight of the entire court. Then it was real. Their first kiss as husband and wife, like their first kiss ever, was lit by the same golden afternoon light, binding them together forever. King Arthur and Queen Guinevere.


A/N: I'd like to send another Thank You! to the ever-wonderful Staymagical for beta reading this and pointing out my mistakes.