A/N: I've updated Chapter 2 to include some explanation of Jenkins' past love. As this is not meant to be completely AU (in my head this story could be told at some point when Charlene is found again), I want to include the bits of canon that work within the story but don't detract. So, please go back and re-read the story from the beginning, and tell me what you think!

Jenkins saw the man that was once his father through the crack in the door. His profile was unmistakable. He sprinted down the aisle, fearful that Dulaque had harming Cassandra in mind. Nothing was beyond the man Lancelot Du Lac had become.

Dulaque couldn't help but smirk as his long lost son burst through the door, ready to protect his bride. Galeas would never stop being a Knight, he thought, smug and sad at the same time. He himself had left the Round table and all it meant behind him centuries ago.

"What do you want!?" Jenkins asked forcefully, as Cassandra stared at him. She couldn't help it. Jenkins was stunning. He was regal, a true gentleman, the man of her dreams.

"I am simply here to wish you well, as I just found out your wedding was happening at all," Dulaque answered coolly. "This is a solemn ceremony, Galeas, or did you not realize that?"

Jenkins was incensed, but could not deny his father the right to be here. Dulaque was right. This ceremony, under these circumstances, could produce Jenkins' true heir. And by extension, Dulaque's heir. There was so much he had yet to tell Cassandra.

He forced himself calm. "It is up to you, my dear," he said to Cassandra. Cassandra knew he was trying to tell her things, but there was no time. She had to make a decision.

She looked Dulaque in the eyes. "Would you have really killed me?" she asked him, her voice deceptively soft.

Dulaque smiled tightly. "You are quite amazing, Cassandra Cillian. You saw right through me. No, I would not have. At some point, if I might be allowed to explain, but no, I would have allowed you to heal yourself. It was a mistake to keep the whole plan from Lamia, who thought you were only a means to an end."

Cassandra felt the truth in his words. The way things had played out had bothered her since that day, as if she could sense Dulaque's plan. She nodded. "He can stay. And," here she paused, "he will bring me down the aisle."

Dulaque grinned. She was magnificent, a true match for his son. And they were getting married in the proper fashion, with the use of the ancient flower. Dulaque couldn't have planned it better.

Jenkins was a bit stunned, but recovered quickly. He had to. This ceremony needed to finish soon, before he embarrassed himself in front of everyone. It was frustrating that he had to give in to this man simply because of this stupid flower.

"Pope Francis will be here in a few minutes. If you need anything, please just scream," Jenkins said, with a smile on his lips. Oh, how he would love a good reason to skewer this man!

Cassandra nodded a quick, "Ok," as Jenkins turned around. She linked her arm into the crook of Dulaque's, clearly needing a steadying force.

Dulaque sucked in a breath at the contact. He could feel her magic. It was powerful. And he recognized it from long ago.

"You're Merlin," he said as quietly as he could.

"Yes," she replied without looking at him. But them she turned her head. "How can you tell?"

"Your magic. Galeas never had any talent for physical magic, but it has always come naturally to me," Dulaque explained. "I was a student of Merlin, in my time. The stories always leave that part out."

"I've tried to figure out what it all means," she said, talking quickly, hoping to gain some knowledge before this man disappeared again. "How can I have the magic of a dead man?"

"Oh, my dear, it is so much more complicated than that," Dulaque breathed, ecstatic. "We will speak more about this, after your child is born."

Cassandra nodded. That would have to do. Pope Francis had arrived. It was time.

Cassandra Cillian, Merlin herself, walked down the short aisle with Lancelot of the Lake, to be given into marriage to Galahad, Knight of the Round Table. It was a tale for the ages.