Title: Superbia

Author: perfectionfades

Summary: The day Arthur marries Gwen, Merlin rejoices along with the whole of Camelot.

Pairings/Characters: Arthur/Gwen, one-sided Merlin/Arthur, hinted one-sided Lancelot/Gwen; Knights, mention of Gaius.

Rating/Warnings: PG-13 (to be safe). Blatant disregard for season 4.

Word Count: 623 words

Disclaimer: Not mine, no matter how much I wish it were.

Author's Notes: No excuses for this save for 'it just happened'. This is my first Merlin fic, so of course I go for the ubiquitous deadly sins theme; hence this will be (is) the first of seven drabbles. This is intended to be a pre-Arthur/Merlin fic so don't mind the Arthur/Gwen up there; our boys'll end up together soon enough.

The day Arthur marries Gwen, Merlin rejoices along with the whole of Camelot; finally, a Queen, worthy of her King and her people.

Gwen is the perfect choice to be Arthur's wife. She loves him as much as he does her, and she cares as much as he for the kingdom and her public; side by side, Arthur and Guinevere would rule with a firm, but righteous and benevolent hand.

Merlin readies Arthur dutifully for the hand-fasting, and laughs when he asks him half-jokingly – and just the slightest bit nervously – what he's done to his useless manservant. After, Merlin places a hand on the King's shoulder and squeezes it tightly, encouragingly, and tells Arthur that for all it's worth, he's happy for him and so very proud of him.

Arthur rewards him for his words with a curious but radiant smile – startled and pleased and a little humbled all at the same time, and he nods his thanks before walking out of the chambers where Merlin once prepared him to receive a vision of one of the greatest quests of his life.

Now he leaves it for something far greater.

Merlin cheers louder than anyone at the end of the ceremony when Gwen is proclaimed Arthur's wife and Queen of Camelot. He makes merry at the celebrations; eats his fill of the feast, though he doesn't indulge in the wine as it goes straight to his head, and he dances a dance or two with Ana, the girl who was to become Queen Guinevere's maidservant. He chats with the knights and shares in their gaiety; in Elyan's cheer for his sister, in Gwaine and Percival's teasing and laughter, in Leon's quiet joy.

(He doesn't see Lancelot, though he distinctly remembers his presence in the ceremony and his anguished but near-unnoticeable gaze at the love he once had.)

Merlin leaves the festivities earlier than he might usually have to prepare the King's – and now, too, the Queen's – chambers for their first night as man and wife. He banks the fire low and sets the candles around the room aflame with his magic; their glow filling the space with a warm, muted light. He fills a vase with water and sweet-smelling flowers, and leaves a bottle of perfumed oil at Arthur's bedside table, and shuts the window curtains to block the outside.

(Tonight should be for the husband and wife; the world can reclaim them as King and Queen come morning.)

When everything is done, Merlin leaves.

He traverses to the lower town, to a tavern he visits sometimes with Gwaine and the knights – when his time, his pocket and his tyrant of a master allow. He sits alone in a corner and asks for a tankard of mead from the shy little wisp of a girl who inquires what she can get for him.

(That's when he lets his smile slip and his eyes dim; and if they well up just a bit with unnamed bitterness and salty misery, well no one is there to see. He doesn't cry though; he's far too proud to admit he has reason to.)

Lancelot finds him there, barely a third of his tankard down and half an hour later. He says nothing, but pulls up a chair and sits beside him, and steals the rest of Merlin's drink, tossing it down in one go. Then he leans back against his seat and waits patiently, silently, until Merlin is ready to stand up and go, and he can escort his friend back home to his worried guardian and mentor.

(And if underneath the table, he takes Merlin's hand and clutches at it a little too tightly in sharedness and understanding, well. No one is there to know.)

Comments welcome.