Chapter 20: As Time Goes By…

(nearly a year after Morgause's Halloween massacre)

Freya rode the highest air currents. Ever-rising warm and pervasive chill buffeting her with the constant reminder of danger, holding attention of an intuitive sort, that allowed her other thoughts free.

She was young, and she was experienced. An orphan and a goddess. Wild and lonely, dangerous and cautious. Mostly she kept to this form – it was always hide and steal and flee, but safer in this form. And the thought processes were more basic and instinctive, the emotions muted to those suited to survival.

And then, of a sudden, it happened.

A palpable sensation of joy-power-purpose-home shot straight through her. Her wings tilted and she lost altitude, but banked to return, seeking the sensation again – and finding it.

She peered down at the dark landscape beneath, feeling the sensation as a beam, with a point of origin. Gliding lower, she studied the patch of roofs and dimly-lit streets of a small town – but veered to the southeast. The call she felt came from somewhere else, only a mile or so away.

Another cluster of roofs – smaller, compact, and uniform. It was too big for a private estate, but it felt too small and cozy for an industrial complex. There was a single spark of light, separate from the others, and that was where she headed; that was what she was drawn to.

There were two humans present, with the light. Male, her senses warned her – but also magic. She tilted her wings and circled them, just above the sphere of radiance. Neither did anything, and it came to her that they were waiting for her, somehow.

So she tucked wing to drop through the air to the ground, back-beating several times to land without crashing heavily. She clawed the earth and grass for balance as the sensation of her own weight descended on her – regretted it – decided to stay.

And tucked her wings along her sides before prowling carefully forward.

Two males, but one was elderly, and the other just a boy. The man wore his white hair in a long straight tail down the back of a neat gray suit, tailored to his shape and weight, buttoned over a generous waistline. The unique thing about him was that his scent lacked fear completely. He did smell of surprise – though the boy didn't.

Neither did he smell of fear, though something about him alerted her to watchfulness. He wore jeans and an oversize camo jacket, ears poking out of straight black hair that grew long and uncombed over his ears and neck and forehead.

The boy looked at the old man and said, quite calmly, "I told you someone was coming."

"Yes," the old man said neutrally, still studying her. After a moment he lifted his voice slightly to address her. "Welcome to Lone Oak Academy for gifted youth. I am Dr. Gaius, the headmaster. Can you speak while in that form? or can you transform to a human shape at will? which would make conversation more comfortable."

For you, she thought. She wasn't at all sure she should linger, having satisfied her curiosity about the beam she'd felt in the sky. Except – was her curiosity satisfied? And where else had she to go?

Wild, but… lonely.

The man took two steps forward and she felt her hackles rise. Twitching to prowl sideways, she dropped her head and body lower to the ground. He stopped, again surprised but not afraid; she turned at the edge of light and paced back, wanting but fearing.

The boy slipped past his older companion and came to her, so swiftly and naturally she didn't even feel the need to flee. She sensed his power, and the animal nature that was prevalent just now wanted to cringe, anticipating that power used to trap and ensnare and subjugate.

But, it was comfortably contained in its unlikely vessel, as if the boy felt no need or goad to use it, just for the sake of using it. His magic felt composed and quiescent within him, as she looked in his eyes and he crouched down before her to bring himself to her level. She dropped another inch and drew back, but kept her paws planted, wary but – curious.

He held out his hand.

Not as small children do with a strange dog, immediately trying to pet and touch, but as an offering of identity. Intimacy, and vulnerability, which she could take, or reject.

She looked in his eyes another long moment and wondered if it was the light on the post that had drawn her, after all. She was curious about him, but uncertain what continuing or increasing familiarity would mean. Her life, such as it was, at least was comfortably known. If she risked people again, even her kind of people…

He smiled.

And she extended her head, slowly approaching his fingers, to sniff and whuffle and test with her whiskers. His intentions were friendly, the magic and courage she knew already, and there was also – intelligence. Intuition. Brilliance. But she could also tell that he was troubled, as she'd rarely known anyone to be. Other than herself.

Everybody had worries and fears and regrets, many had experienced loss, but this boy – young as he was, the darkness inside was deep and serious and scary.

It made her want to crowd closer to him and nuzzle him warm and lick him til he laughed, knock him over and tumble him down the hill til he let go and frolicked, opened to the sun that would banish the shadows in his soul.

Without thinking, she put out her tongue and flattened the tip of it to his palm, tasting him.

Her action connected them irrevocably. She knew that, in that moment, and chose it even as it happened to them both, and even if he didn't realize, it was all right.

She withdrew and turned slightly, closing her eyes and digging her claws into the ground in preparation for the process that wasn't lengthy, but painful while it happened. Growl became cry and the night air hit her bare skin as if she'd just been flayed and bathed in acid. She trembled, huddling over her knees, trying to squeeze the tears away from her eyes and absorb the residual surface ache of her body so they wouldn't see it on her face.

The boy stood, and a moment later she shuddered under the weight and harsh material of his jacket as he draped it over her.

But then she was able to rock her weight back onto her folded legs and clutch the camouflage fabric, watching as he crossed the lawn. He wore a light blue long-sleeve t-shirt; his bones seemed more dominant than his muscles, somehow, but there was a certain lack of self-consciousness that made him beautiful. He paused in passing the old man - who lifted his hand to grip the boy's shoulder in a way that made her think, the old man knew about the young one's darkness

"Well done," he said to the boy.

Who pulled away without speaking - and left the hill.

One last shudder, and she was able to persuade shaky legs to stand and hold her weight. Her shoulders held the boy's jacket in place as she shoved her arms through, and pushed the fabric together to hold it closed in front. The jacket had been too big on the boy; it covered her to mid-thigh quite comfortably, as she stumbled over grass now prickly on her bare soles.

But it held his scent, also, and that calmed her.

The old man's expression included surprise as he faced her. "You are so young. What's your name, child? Where are you from, and why away from your family?"

"I have no family, they died in a hurricane at New Haven years ago," she answered. And mostly she was over the irony of the name of the hometown she no longer claimed her own. Like she was over the nightmares of that storm, and the unexpected physical change that allowed her escape. Mostly. "I ran away – I mean, I flew away… my name's Freya."

"Well, Freya," the old man said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "If you wish it and it works out, this can be your home."

"Forever?" she said, surprising even herself.

Never before, since she'd been on her own or in the form of Bas, had she felt the complete absence of restlessness. How much might be due to the boy whose name she didn't even know, she had yet to find out…

Dr. Gaius gave her a genuinely kindly smile. "We shall see," he promised.

…..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*….. …..*…..

When Arthur let himself into the living area of their shared room – shared for a few more hours, at least – Merlin was standing motionless before the mirror, half out of sight through the doorway on the left. Not fully dressed, Arthur noted his dress jacket slung over the back of the rocker/recliner, despite the time, and not hurrying. Not even moving.

He came up behind his roommate – well, ex-roommate, effective today – to see that the untied ends of the bowtie hung over Merlin's shoulders. Not the object of his delay, though; the younger man's gaze was lower on his shirtfront, where his fingers pressed the crisp material of the formal garment to his middle.

In an odd pattern, finger-thumb-finger. That Arthur knew immediately, though he had never seen the scars.

"Gwaine is waiting for us outside the gym," Arthur commented, startling Merlin as he came up behind him. "If a drop of liquid courage is what you need."

Merlin didn't say anything, as Arthur reached over his shoulders to claim and bend and fold the ends of the bow-tie, to match the one he was wearing.

"My father taught me this," Arthur went on, to fill the silence comfortably, "when I was… ten years old. First formal business dinner. I looked like a… baby penguin."

Ghost of a smile skated across the mirror's surface. "I bet you were adorable."

"Watch it." Arthur tugged the bowtie warningly, and the smile lingered a split second longer. "I had to remember the names of a dozen of his associates – which I did – and excused myself from dessert to throw up the first four courses in the men's room."

"That's encouraging," Merlin murmured.

Eyes and fingertips still on his lower chest, his stomach where the cummerbund hugged his waist, and as Arthur fixed Merlin's collar button and lapels, he could see his friend's brave, stupid, noble thought.

"Hey," he said, leaning sideways on the sink. "She chose you and she loves you and she wants you. And you're damn lucky for it. So you go out there and make her the happiest woman in the world, the rest of your life, hear me?"

Merlin tried to frown – tried not to smile – failed and sighed and gave him a reluctant grin. "You sure we can't cure her of insanity?"

"Not even a little bit," Arthur said, moving to lift the black dress jacket from the back of the recliner, and holding it open for Merlin's long arms. "And your mother is in the hallway."

Merlin quit fiddling with the cuffs. "My mother?"

He took off through the living space; Arthur paused a moment to check his own tie and dove-silk cummerbund in the mirror. The inside pocket with the ring for Freya – and the other one. One last look round the room – one last box on Merlin's desk to be reclaimed sometime before the spring semester of school – and Arthur would have his coveted, unwelcome privacy. For a while.

Merlin had left the door of their room open, and Arthur heard a female voice as he approached. "…So proud of you."

"Yeah," Merlin said huskily. "I wish he was here, too."

Arthur with his story about learning to tie a bowtie, guessed who Merlin and his widowed mother were thinking of. He eased unobtrusively through the doorway, closing the door behind him as Hunith – a plain-featured woman whose inner-mother-light made her radiantly beautiful – leaned back from embracing her tall son, cupping his face in her hands.

"Today you're giving me something your father never did," she told him, through a teary-eyed smile.

"What's that?" Merlin said.

Evidently Hunith was the source of Merlin's smile, and sense of humor. "A daughter."

Merlin huffed a chuckle, and allowed his mother to pull him down and kiss his forehead. Turning to tuck a hand under Arthur's elbow, she kept hold of Merlin's to walk between, escorted by both.

"Let's not keep her waiting," she added.

Down the hall, out the door – Arthur expected the biting wind of Virginia December, but the skirt of Hunith's long-sleeved mint-green dress was not so much as touched; the warm inside air clung around them as they crossed to the classroom building. Arthur caught the golden gleam of magic performed casually in Merlin's eyes, but Hunith didn't even pause in relating some story from Freya's visit to their hometown the past summer, and Merlin nodded as if he hadn't been there the whole time, himself.

"And she was so nice about the garden, even helped me pick the last of the yellow beans…"

Arthur couldn't help but wonder - pressing the hidden black velvet box to his ribs with his elbow – what Ygraine would have made of Gwen.

Speaking of… They reached the top of the stair, turned down the hall to the gym, and Arthur totally ignored both Dr. Gaius and Gwaine, dressed the same as Arthur and Merlin, the new security officer upending a discreet silver flask to his lips because –

Gwen. Turning to them from scolding Gwaine, like a cloud dissipating before the sun. Silk dress a shade more lavender than the men's cummerbunds, a strapless sheath with a slit to her knee at one side, extra material gathered and draped coyly and effectively at the small of her back and the center of her bosom. Black curls left tumbling over one bare shoulder and down her back, pinned up at the other side with a shy flower. Green toenail polish showing below a crystal-flecked sandal strap, the heels of which lifted her closer to Arthur's height. In one hand she held a spill of ivy and small white flowers with five petals like stars.

"…Thur. Arthur."

Merlin snapped his fingers in front of Arthur's face and he startled, glancing from Gwen's gaze-dropping blush to Merlin's knowing grin. And if Arthur's embarrassment was what it took to put that expression there – well, just this once.

"You've got the ring?" Gaius demanded of Arthur. "Yes? Good."

Gwaine added irreverently to Merlin, " 'Port your magical butt up to the altar so Aglain will quit trying to use telepathy on me."

"Escort your mother to her place," Gaius corrected, with a warning glance to the tall rascal Arthur had wondered more than once, if he was going to regret hiring. If Gwaine and Merlin hadn't gotten on so well, he thought the old man might've fired Gwaine after their first meeting as quickly as he'd agreed to put another ordinary on Lone Oak's payroll. "Arthur and Gwen, you're to wait til Hunith is seated, and Merlin stood in place -"

"Then saunter your sickeningly sweet selves down the aisle," Gwaine interrupted, giving his careless-devil grin. Because irritating his employer was a contact sport, for him. "Then, if Gaius hasn't managed to talk her out of it – and if she won't elope with me –" He flinched as both Gaius and Merlin raised warning hands. "Ouch. All right. Ready, boys and girls? Take a deep breath, and…"

He yanked open the double doors of the gym – suddenly seeming twice its normal size.

Packed with people, up and down folding chairs in rows on both sides, leaving only the center aisle open. Merlin stepped out, leading his mother to her seat of honor saved in the front row, and Gwen pulled Arthur to the doorway in preparation.

"Geez," he said under his breath, watching the audience react to Merlin's appearance with varied excitement and delight. "I thought… well, I thought…"

"Alumni," Gwen said quietly. "From the past four years. And this year's students. Some of the townspeople who dared to come. Merlin has touched a lot of lives, Arthur."

"Yeah," he said, inadequately.

And she prompted him to lead – their turn now, he hadn't noticed – he turned his attention past the people, and could hardly keep himself from gaping.

If he didn't know it was a gym… he wouldn't know it was a gym. The walls and ceiling looked like the inside of a stone cathedral, vaulted and shadow-smooth. The floor carpeted in a mottled green-and-brown that looked like natural ground – though clean, obviously. And not soft or deep enough to pose a problem for delicate feminine footwear; beside him Gwen was steady and confident. She gave him a shy glance and smile and he turned his attention with an effort to the front of the room.

Aglain – yes I'm certified by the state of Virginia to perform legal marriages – stood solemn and satisfied in his brown druid's robe in the center of an archway knit of branches. Two apple trees in full blossom, evidently – and damn realistic, too. Arthur decided he'd have to find Mordred and Kara, after, and recommend they go into the decorating business. Merlin now waited beside the druid, fidgeting pale and nervous, looking past them and rubbing absently at his wrists – bare of the charms, Arthur knew; Gwaine wore them tonight and for the next two weeks.

When they reached him they parted, Arthur giving Gwen's round cheek a kiss to promise eventual reunion, and took his place beside and behind Merlin. "Quit twitching," he advised his friend, leaning close. "Try to look happy, everyone's watching…"

No, they weren't either.

The music – courtesy of one of Alice's prodigies, sans sound system or live musicians – shifted, charging the audience with anticipation and bringing them to their feet. Announcing, in a subtle melodic way, the lady of the hour. And no one was paying any attention to Merlin, anymore. Freya, on the arm of Gaius in his own stately tux, had paused just inside the gym's double doors.

"Oh," Merlin breathed.

Fitted bodice and full skirt sparkling muted points of light, sleeveless but for a soft drape of sheer white fabric over the curve of her shoulders. Her hair done as Gwen's was, curls down one shoulder and the filmy veil behind. She was gorgeous, and Arthur was proud and glad.

But she was also, not moving. She was also, not paying any attention to Merlin – even at the distance, Arthur could see that her eyes were darting around the crowd – and Gaius' gentle, unobtrusive attempts at encouragement weren't working. Lots of people, Arthur knew, were not Freya's thing; she handled her classroom admirably, but also despised limelight of any shade.

Merlin took half a step toward the center aisle, his nerves seeming to dissolve at the evidence of his bride's trepidation. He whispered, "Freya."

And she looked straight at him, as if he'd spoken aloud, and they were alone. He offered his hand, and smiled; Arthur could see it even in profile, and breathed easy himself, knowing that now she would –

Float to Merlin down the aisle, glowing with shy happiness and youthful beauty, perfectly offset by the old gentleman who escorted her.

They two reached the front of the room, and Gaius – who gives this woman? Her mother and I do – kissed her cheek. Then, instead of joining Alice across the aisle from Merlin's mother – who already had a tissue dabbing carefully at eye makeup – Gaius reached for Merlin.

One hand around the back of his neck, to draw the young man's forehead down to his own. Briefly, but Arthur glimpsed what relief this symbolic day must bring to the old headmaster. Thousands of young lives he'd known in passing – these two both touched by tragedy, yet proving indomitable hope and strength and goodness.

"Dearly beloved," Aglain began. "We are gathered here today to witness the union of this man and this woman in marriage by the solemn rite of handfasting."

Wait, what?

Arthur shifted, the rest of Aglain's speech about speaking now or forever holding peace muted to background hum. As Merlin shoved the left sleeve of his expensive tux jacket up to his elbow, and Freya – no bridal bouquet, Arthur realized, serves him right for zoning out when she and Gwen were talking wedding plans – unbuttoned the cuff of his white dress shirt, rolling that up as well.

He looked past Freya at Gwen hoping she could explain by look or expression – but she was stepping forward as if nothing was wrong, handing her bouquet of ivy and white star flowers to Aglain, of all people.

Hells. He really should have paid more attention in rehearsal yesterday.

"…Symbolizing an organic unity, a balance of two and one, growing together without competition, but in mutual support and affection, each tending the other's needs as if they were your own. Grafted into one life and bearing, in due time, the fruit of your love for each other."

Arthur couldn't help blushing. Freya was blushing, Gwen was blushing – Arthur couldn't see Merlin's face, but his ears were red. He held Freya's gaze, though, through her shy downward glance, and back up.

The fingers of her left hand wrapped gracefully around Merlin's knobby wrist – his long fingers covering half her forearm. Aglain laid the trail of blossoms and leaves Gwen had carried, over their joined hands; his eyes gleamed gold magic, and the live greenery looped and circled, literally binding them, dripping white stars off her elbow, crawling vines up his shoulder. Freya's lips parted on a happy smile, and her timidity seemed to melt toward confidence.

"I, Merlin Emrys, do take thee, Freya Lacosta, to my lawful and beloved wedded wife. To have and to hold, to love and cherish, from this time forth until forevermore."

Arthur experienced a totally irrational shiver, as if all the disjointed edges of the imperfect universe had just aligned. He pressed the pocketed black velvet box against his ribs with his elbow, and met Gwen's teary-eyed radiance past the marrying couple, as Freya spoke her vows.

"To have and to hold, to trust and to follow and to guide… and not even death may part thee and me, nor anything divide our love."

"Everyone so witnessing these vows, add voice to strengthen the bond," Aglain spoke up, addressing the crowd.

The chorus that rose was deafening. Aye, and I do, and I so witness. Arthur himself couldn't speak, but he felt his affirmation, and it was strong.

And Merlin reached to cup Freya's face with his free hand, leaning down to her as she tilted willingly up to him, and their lips met.

Gwaine had offered to time it. Leon and Percival – and Elyan, Arthur had heard – had taken bets. Merlin had threatened to stop time entirely, so The Kiss would be private.

He didn't, though. Maybe he'd forgotten. But Arthur was willing to bet that their friends' estimations were all off. Because evidently things were done differently at semi-druidic weddings – Merlin didn't stop kissing his bride for well-nigh a full minute. Not making out, nor anything blatantly intimate, nothing to make their audience uncomfortable, just… continuing. To growing applause, which neither of them seemed aware of.

Gwen's smile was both self-conscious and suggestive – which made Arthur both nervous and eager. He considered elbowing the oblivious groom, two seconds before Merlin pulled back, grinning at Freya's sweet discomfiture.

Aglain had to raise his hands for the gathered guests to quiet down again.

"The rings, if you please?" he said, glancing at Arthur and then Gwen, as the audience shuffled and chuckled themselves back to their seats.

In that moment, the greenery binding Merlin and Freya's hands unraveled and recoiled, leaves fluttering gently to the ground and stems dissolving into a dusty glitter that clung to their skin, leaving bride and groom each with a single flower. Arthur almost forgot to fish Freya's wedding band – braided gold with three tiny inset diamonds, rather than the customary solitaire – watching Freya fix hers to the lapel of Merlin's tux jacket, as he tucked his into the strands of her dark hair over one ear.

Hoping no one noticed his fumble… Merlin met his eyes with a knowing grin; hoping no one else noticed his fumble, Arthur passed the bride's ring to his friend, and Freya turned from retrieving Merlin's band from Gwen's safekeeping.

"Love is like precious silver, and must be treated so. Like gold love is delicate, and must be treated accordingly. Never taken for granted, but freely and generously given both care and attention – resulting in a rewarding and unmistakable luster, like precious gems. And love, so handled… can last forever." As Aglain spoke, the bridal pair slipped each other's ring on, naturally and surely.

Merlin lifted Freya's hand to kiss it with the ring. A year ago, Arthur would not have believed his friend had that in him, to be so confidently romantic.

"Lone Oak and beyond…" Aglain spread his hands, and the guests rustled to their feet. Merlin and Freya turned to face the crowd, still holding theirs and looking at each other. "Ordinary and Grammarye, past-present-future… I give you, Merlin and Freya. Husband and wife."

Again, deafening applause.

Merlin leaned to whisper in Freya's ear, something that made her laugh and nod.

Then Gaius turned in his seat in the front row, lifting his hand to signal for silence. "If everyone will please hold still for – hm, say five minutes? We'll get set up to feast with and drink to and congratulate our newlyweds."

"Gotta work, even on my wedding day," Merlin murmured over his shoulder to Arthur.

And he performed.

Moving magic was, in Arthur's opinion, the most exquisite, the most difficult, the most awe-inspiring. The rows of chairs shifted and turned and slid. Sections of the floor lifted and sprouted legs that curved and twisted graceful and artistic, becoming tables where the thick short forest-floor carpeting smoothed into flowing cover-cloth. Around which the chairs gathered, gently enough for the guests to follow and reclaim their seats.

"Holy sh-" Arthur was interrupted by Merlin pulling him back as the high table grew from underfoot. Chairs for the four of them plus Gaius and Alice, Hunith and Aglain, ambled agreeably up.

"That went well," Merlin said, pleased. Freya at his side was fixing his cuff and sleeve.

There was no mic, and no master-of-ceremonies. Arthur hadn't been asked to write a toast, and no one in the audience acted like they were at a loss without the structure of protocol. No receiving line, but Merlin and Freya were the center of ever-changing attention as Elyan's carts and employees - because of course food couldn't be magicked from thin air – tabled and uncovered platters of hors d'oeuvres, clever but cold, simple but generous. Some of the current students helped themselves immediately; Arthur noticed more than one actually sitting on a table.

Hands in his pockets, he watched and marveled yet again at the strange and endearing quirks of magic folk. Gwen, her hand comfortably gripping his elbow, kept one eye on the catering crew, and one on the well-wishers, commenting in a steady stream of mild explanations.

"Oh, I remember her, she turned people's hair blue for a about a month a few years ago – I used to hide in the kitchen when she… Oh, look, there's…" And she'd name someone else she recognized, though of course Arthur didn't.

"This is better than our school reunion," Leon said at Arthur's other side, momentarily slipping his hand into Arthur's pocket – to return an object Arthur immediately recognized, and acknowledged with a nod. "Remember? They hired that one band and everyone hated them…" He took a long swallow of red-orange liquid from the tiny delicate punch cup in his hand – and the cup was still brimful when he lowered it.

"That's Merlin's mom?" Percival said, from just beyond him, having returned at the same time from the same errand – bag-carrier. He shoved the last bite of something that looked like pastry and bacon into his mouth. "She's sweet."

"You have no idea," Gwen told them both, seriously. And she'd know; she and Freya and Alice had spent nearly the entire previous day with Hunith, while the menfolk made themselves scarce.

"Gwaine's busy," Leon commented.

Arthur fruitlessly searched the gym – or was it actually a cathedral today? He didn't know if it was an illusion, or… some other piece of astounding casual magic.

Expect the unexpected, was indeed what Arthur had gotten used to.

"Yeah, but he loves it," Percival said, of Gwaine's new job working under Merlin as Lone Oak's security staff. "He says it's way more interesting than a hotel."

"It is," Arthur said honestly, giving Leon half a grin.

His friend shrugged, himself perfectly content. "I'll keep the hotel."

Still Arthur's, though in name only. Leon loved the management, the control and direction, but had no desire to stress over finances or the notoriety of ownership. And tucked away in the Virginian countryside, Arthur could rely on Leon's judgement, and phone in the rest.

"How's he going to manage with Merlin away on his honeymoon?" Percival asked, more seriously.

"He's got the alarm-charms," Arthur answered. "And Gaius. And Merlin's cell number."

"Until Freya gets a hold of the phone," Gwen murmured slyly.

"It's two weeks of winter break," Arthur continued, trying to ignore the insinuations that seemed to delight Gwen. He couldn't think that about his roommate, for magic's sake. "Most of the kids will be at home. And most of the rest, don't want to disappoint Merlin, getting in trouble while he's gone."

"When he gets back, though?" Leon remarked – and Arthur shared another grin with him. Yep, the spring semester was going to be… interesting.

The reception for his friends' wedding was more than satisfactory. Enough is as good as a feast, Arthur thought; he couldn't remember another comparable get-together when he'd enjoyed himself so well.

As the food-and-tables option was gradually abandoned, the tables themselves sank back into the floor, leaving space for – dancing. Which meant, music. No sound system, no musicians, or instruments –

"How are they doing this?" he asked Gwen.

"Enmyria," Gwen said. She dodged a bit to point out a young woman with rather wild kinky-curly brown hair, leggings and a tunic-dress, seated and alone, with closed eyes and a huge grin on her face. "She can do three – no, she's doing four, now. Look. Different kinds of music. From harder club rock –"

Arthur glimpsed Mordred and Kara – both in black, her hair shorter but spiky-blue, his hair longer – swaying rhythmically with her butt to his groin. He rolled his eyes; at least it wasn't deliberately offensive. And he supposed Merlin at least was glad the two recent graduates had returned to prove they were still alive, and not behind prison bars.

"…To this kind of stuff." Gwen gave him an arch smile, pulling him to the near center of the floor, just off a subtle spotlight from nowhere that followed Merlin and Freya. And into Bryan Adams' "Everything I Do."

There is no love, like your love… And no other, could give me more love… There's nowhere, unless you're there… All the time, all the way…

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes again – and instead allowed the grin, as Gwen wrapped her arms around him, under his jacket. He slid his arms around her also, one thumb against the bare skin of her back above the dress fabric, and over her head he watched the bridal pair.

Merlin's jacket and cummerbund had been abandoned somewhere, sleeves rolled to show empty wrists – that no longer looked wrong or vulnerable. Maybe it was because the rest of him exuded such contentment. Eyes closed and smile on his face, Merlin rested his cheek against Freya's hair. One hand cupping her cheek to cradle her head to his chest, the other spread over the bare skin of her back in a sweetly-presumptuous possessiveness.

She held his hand against her face - her own eyes closed and smile blissful - and her other hand clung low against the back of his waist, her last two fingers actually tucked behind his belt. As Arthur watched, she tipped her head back – dislodging his to meet his eyes.

Arthur recognized the signs of telepathy – and he was no longer curious to know what they said to each other in public, but without any chance of being overheard. Merlin lifted his chin in a peal of laughter – and Freya's hand covered his over his ribs. He was still grinning when he caught Arthur's eye for a moment of pure shared happiness – then grimaced significantly down toward Arthur's partner.

Because, roommates. He knew what was in Arthur's pocket.

Christmas present. Not – gasp! sterling silver and CZ. But carats – white gold and princess-cut central diamond - and a proposal he was pretty sure Gwen would accept. However, he hadn't one-hundred-percent decided when. Like marriage itself, he rather expected – wanted – proposal to be a one-time thing. And he wanted it to be perfect for Gwen.

Not just, cuddling on the couch in the teachers' lounge, asking during a commercial – So when, exactly, should we get married? This summer?

Well… not if we want to go to Florida for the honeymoon.

Then… winter break?

Yeah…

And Arthur, on the other side of the couch, biting his tongue so that he wouldn't spoil the moment, with its laughable lack of romance, for Freya. Who seemed content, after all. She knew what she was getting. And evidently Merlin had learned a bit about courtship, since then.

"Are you all right?" Gwen murmured from just below his chin.

"Mm. Why?"

"I lost you for a minute." She shifted against him and he held his steps, just swaying in place against her warmth and the intoxicating slip of the silk of her dress against his body.

"Just thinking," he said vaguely.

She tipped her chin up to look into his eyes without leaning back from their contact. "About what?"

"I'll tell you later," Arthur said. "When we're alone." When he could get on one knee without anyone else seeing him, and flounder his way verbally through the deep things he felt before she understood with the life preserver of an interrupting kiss and the all-important Yes.

"Trade me," Merlin said in his ear, and Arthur turned to see the limpid elation up close in his friend's eyes. "My wife wants to dance with you. Heaven knows why."

Gwen left him immediately, turning to hug Freya and whisper in her ear – and receive her inaudible response the same way.

"If I don't get a chance, before we leave…" Merlin offered Arthur his hand. "Hold down the fort while we're gone?"

"Absolutely," Arthur said, shaking his hand.

"Gwaine tries. And he's learned a lot about magic this semester. But you…" Merlin's eyes and his grip said, I trust you.

"What can happen in two weeks," Arthur said flippantly, and laughed at Merlin's half-serious flinch of anxiety. "We'll be fine. Go and have fun. Enjoy the Sunshine State."

"Freya in a bikini," Gwen said, holding up her arms for Merlin to dance with her. He took hold of her, hand and back, without comment, but his skin was fired with a blush that made Arthur chuckle.

The bride was conversely, contentedly serene. "We don't have to dance," she told Arthur.

"We do," he contradicted, claiming her hand and waist.

And for several moments of music - You must remember this/ A kiss is still a kiss… A sigh is just a sigh/ The fundamental things apply as time goes by – it felt to him exactly as if he danced with his sister at her wedding. He wouldn't be able to put it into words, but he hoped Freya found him an adequate substitute for the brothers she'd lost, also.

"When I met Merlin," she said, all bright eyes and dark curls and filmy bridal white, "on the Hill, that first night. I recognized that his magic had called me. I caught the first glimpse of the fact that he was to be my home. I chose him. In spite of the darkness I sensed in him – pain, and loss, and guilt…"

Arthur turned her so they could avoid another couple, and glimpsed Merlin laughing at something Gwen had said – glimpsed her smile as he turned her.

"Or maybe because of it," Freya added. "I was determined to reach that place in his heart, and be his light, as he has been the light for so many others. And he doesn't really realize."

The proof of that was all around him. Arthur did not think so many people would come to his wedding except out of duty or curiosity or greed. Certainly not genuine regard or personal caring. He said lightly, "I congratulate you on your success, then."

She gave him a faintly reproachful look. "I could not have done it without you," she said. "I had contented myself with lifelong friendship, and you – broke into that darkness that would have been impossible for anyone else to touch."

"Clumsily," Arthur said, gallantly to cover the faint shame he still felt, to remember his behavior, "and painfully."

"Well," Freya said composedly. "You are only men, after all."

As time goes by was slowing, and quieting, and Arthur realized what everyone else was realizing, also. It was Time.

"Don't let him get sunburned," he told Freya.

She gave him a cat's smile. "I'll do my best to keep him in out of the sun."

He gave a theatrical shudder, that made her giggle, and added honestly, "I hope you have a marvelous time."

Merlin reappeared with Gwen, and the two girls clung together again. Gwen said, sweetly mournful, "I'll miss you."

Arthur fished in his pocket and pulled out the object Leon had returned to him. Minus the room key and the American flag – he handed the Chrysler's key to his uncomprehending roommate. Former roommate. Friend.

"I told Gwaine to cancel the taxi – Percival volunteered to drive you. And he'll be waiting to pick you up when you get back." Merlin opened his mouth to protest, and Arthur added, "Just promise not to traumatize him along the way."

The girls snickered, but without warning, Merlin flung his arms around Arthur, clutching him with more strength than was usually apparent in his slender frame. "You are a prince among friends, Arthur."

"All right, get off," Arthur grumped. Winking hard, and trying not to show it.

Mordred held out Merlin's tux coat. Sophia Tiermore had Freya's purse and a white fluffy wrap for her bare shoulders. Hunith and Alice were arm in arm, both dabbing furiously with tissues, and Gaius gave Merlin a hug and a muttered, "Oh, my boy…"

They left out a side door of the gym, followed by most of the crowd – Gwaine and Elyan lying in wait with cans of silly string, and one of the students added a touch of magic by illuminating the arcing strands of spray.

Merlin let it happen, spontaneous and gorgeous magic, taking Freya's hand to sprint for the Chrysler where Percival stood attendant beside the back-seat door; Freya held her veil in place with her free hand and slid in first. They both grinned and waved through the window – and the car pulled away to the noisy farewell of the gathered guests.

Lingering in the open doorway between warm and well-lit cathedral and dark chill-brilliant night, Arthur considered how everything and nothing had changed. How friends were friends and stayed friends, even if they left on honeymoon, or returned to jobs and lives in other cities. How maybe that was a concept that applied to death as well – and his mother and father and sister were only at another feast, another gathering. That he hadn't really lost anything in the last two years… but that he had, gained so much.

Gwen sighed. The gym itself seemed to sigh, as the magic began to fade.

"It's genius, really," Arthur said to her. "Very little clean-up."

"And you and I," Gwen said. She smiled at him, tucking her hand into his elbow, where it felt to him like it belonged. "What are we going to do?"

The air outside was cool and crisp; he'd have to give her his tux jacket in a moment. And the lamp from the Hill shone undimmed.

"How about a walk?" Arthur suggested, not yet ready to part. Not yet ready to end the night. There was that box in his pocket. "I'm sure I can think of something."

A/N: Long. But hopefully not boring. And no one died of sugar shock?... Thanks ever so to everyone who supported and encouraged with reviews, favorites, and follows!

Next, I'm probably going to do a sequel to Refined by Fire and Released by Truth. Probably entitled Renewed by Love… and yes, there will be romance. But also action and politics and whump, so... (Going on vacation starting Memorial Day, so I'm not sure if I'll post or even have a chapter 1 by then, just sayin'…)