I started to write the wedding and then I realized—what comes before the wedding? The proposal, of course! I got the idea from a gif set created by someone with much more computer talent than myself.

Arthur examined his reflection in the silver plate. It was cloudy and a bit warped, but it was the next best thing to a mirror that he had on hand. He fixed his hair, trying to get it to lie in exactly the way he wanted. He needed to look his best—dashing and regal and everything a prince should be. He wanted to impress.

Which was ironic, considering the person he was trying to impress was pretty much incapable of being impressed by anything or anyone.

"What are you doing?"

Arthur dropped the plate with a clatter and spun around. Merlin was striding toward him, grinning in that way that made his eyes crinkle up into slits.

"Um, I—"

Merlin took in the scene. Arthur had (with help from the ever-patient Gwen) set up a picnic under a tree in a grassy meadow a short ride from Camelot, in an area that Arthur knew Merlin frequented when picking herbs for Gaius. Gaius had then sent Merlin to gather said herbs, putting Arthur right in his path. The blanket was covered in various niceties from the kitchen: roast chicken, sweetmeats, pies, and various fruits.

"What's all this?" Merlin asked, looking back up into Arthur's face.

"Maybe if you came over here you'd find out," Arthur replied.

Merlin crossed the line of small stones that led across the stream and stopped about a foot away from Arthur. "You're being romantic," he said suspiciously. "You're never romantic."

"I am romantic!" Arthur protested.

Merlin raised his eyebrows, a trait he'd undoubtedly picked up from Gaius. "Sexual favors don't count."

Arthur huffed and took a step forward, seizing Merlin's wrist and pulling him so that their bodies were flush together. "Well, I'm being romantic now."

He indulged himself and kissed Merlin, slow and sweet. When he pulled away Merlin appeared a bit dazed, and Arthur gave himself a mental pat on the back. He gestured at the feast. "Shall we?"

The next hours were spent rolling around on the blanket, eating and joking and laughing and inevitably Arthur would yank Merlin on top of him to kiss him, tasting strawberries and apples on his tongue. They wrestled playfully, fed each other tidbits because today was a day for silly indulgences, and play fought with sticks they found. When they were too tired and too full to move anymore, they lay down and Merlin told Arthur some of the stories he'd read in Gaius's books—tales of the Old Religion, of mysterious castles, cursed maidens, and immortal knights. He spun stories about doomed lovers, holy quests and creatures both good and evil. They cloud-gazed, arguing about whether that one cloud looked like a dog or a horse, and at some point they fell asleep on top of each other, the warm sun and soft breeze lulling them into slumber.

When Arthur awoke, it was to the feel of Merlin running gentle fingers through his hair. His head was on Merlin's chest, one arm slung over Merlin's hips, and Merlin had propped himself up on an elbow in order to gaze down at him. Arthur's limbs still felt pleasantly heavy from the meal and the exercise, the sun was warm and the air was sweet, Merlin's heartbeat was under his ear and Merlin's fingers were in his hair, and they were in the golden days of summer. Never, he thought, had he been so happy.

"I wish it could be like this forever."

"Hmm?" Arthur hummed, glancing up at Merlin.

Merlin was gazing down at Arthur fondly, but there was a strange, faraway look in his eyes. "It's just you and me, being ourselves. Together. And I wish… I want it to be like this, always."

Arthur couldn't have gotten a better opening if he tried. "It can be."

"What?" Merlin's finger stilled in his hair, puzzled.

Arthur sat up and dug in the picnic basket for the small velvet bag that Gwen had hidden in there. It was one of the last things her father had ever made, dying before he could sell it. Gwen had given it to Arthur on his last birthday, "For when the time is right."

He couldn't think the time could be more right than this.

Clearing his throat, Arthur knelt on one knee and extracted the ring from its pouch, holding it out to Merlin.

It was a wedding ring, but not a traditional wedding ring. It wasn't a silver band with jewels, like for a lady, or a simple gold band, like for a lord, or even a thick ring with runes and symbols carved on it.

No. Merlin was a Dragonlord, so he got a dragon ring.

Merlin didn't say anything, sucking in a breath, eyes going wide. He held out a shaky hand, fingers trembling as he let Arthur slide it on. It looped around his finger, the tiny ruby eyes glittering, its tiny scales etched into the dark silver. It was as long as Merlin's finger, the tail curling around his knuckle and the head baring its teeth at his fingernail. It looked imposing but was as light as anything, and Gwen had remarked with wet eyes that she thought it was her father's best work.

Arthur couldn't deny that part of the reason he wanted this ring for Merlin was that it couldn't look like a wedding ring. Merlin couldn't look married. And he knew from the slight flicker in Merlin's eyes that Merlin knew it as well. But then the ring was on all the way and Merlin blushed as red as the strawberries they'd eaten earlier, curling and uncurling his finger experimentally.

"Will you have me?" Arthur asked. "Always?"

Merlin launched himself at Arthur, scattering kisses like raindrops over every inch of his face. "Yes," he whispered, voice cracking. "Yes, yes, yes."