AN: Alrighty, guys! Here is the last chapter! :) Quite honestly, I wasn't as happy with this as I was with the other chapters (things move immensely fast, and the ending is rather rushed, in my opinion), and it's kind of ironic in a way. The first 4 chapters of this fic were the build-up to the main event that the prompt asked for. :) I decided not to share the prompt I chose for this exchange at the beginning of chapter 1 because I didn't want to spoil anything, but I will share it at the end.
Warning - this chapter contains more suggestive content than I usually write in my fics. A few of you will probably roll your eyes and think, 'she thinks that is all that suggestive?' but better safe than sorry, lol. ;P
Mithian had heard the phrase used over and over again throughout the course of her lifetime. Hell, she had even used it herself on quite a few occasions, and it could be considered one of those phrases that people used so casually and so often that it sometimes lost its meaningfulness and hardly made a lasting impression on others.
Even the princess never appreciated the phrase nearly as much as she should have. Maybe that was why her head spun to think about how much had happened in such a short amount of time.
Because time—time truly flew.
The last few weeks of discussions about the legalization of magic slippedby so quickly that the princess was slightly overwhelmed the day that Iseldir, Alator, and multiple others signed the last document, shook hands with the Pendragon and his newly appointed Court Sorcerer, and departed for their respective homelands with hopeful smiles and good tidings, eager to get back to their families before the approaching Yule.
Mithian felt as though it was only yesterday that she was riding into Camelot's walls, but it wasn't that fact alone that overwhelmed her. The realization that—that magic was free, utterly and truly free, filled her with an unexplainable joy, and to see Merlin's own joy and glowing smile whenever he used magic openly made her heart swell all the more.
In fact, in the past weeks, Mithian could not recall ever feeling happier. Despite the busy hours spent in Arthur's council chambers, Mithian still found time in the day to slip away with Merlin. It didn't matter where they went or what they did. Walking, reading, snogging, or simply talking... every moment she spent with him was precious. With every lopsided smile and witty retort, with every laugh and gleam of his enchanting blue eyes, with every odd quirk she discovered and thrilling story he told, her love for him grew, and judging by the special tenderness in his eyes when he looked at her and the growing passion of his kisses, she knew that it was no different for him.
It wasn't only her relationship with Merlin that grew. Whenever Arthur hauled Merlin away to ask for his assistance and advice on something or another and whenever Ronan was out training with the other knights and young nobles, the princess found herself meeting with Guinevere, and she and the queen had nothing but fun as they strolled through the Lower Town, looking through the wares and mingling with the people. On the rare days they decided not to seek some fresh air and some time away from the craziness of the castle, they sat across from each other in Gwen's chambers to talk, share opinions in important matters, and swap stories about themselves and their ridiculously selfless and entertaining lovers.
Some of the stories Gwen shared about Merlin and Arthur when they were only manservant and prince had Mithian laughing until tears ran down her face, whereas others had her jaw dropping in astonishment. When she confronted Merlin about some of these stories, it was more than amusing to see his reaction of sheepishness and to see the look he exchanged with Arthur.
Because Mithian and Guinevere knew that, despite their constant bickering and their differences, those two were as thick as thieves, two sides of the same coin; and the two women, more than anyone, understood exactly what that meant.
To be a part of their lives, they had to understand that there was little that one would not sacrifice for the other, and though the princess marveled at her luck to have been accepted into their family and to have someone like Merlin looking at her so lovingly, Mithian sometimes shuddered to think what would have happened if either of the two young men had fallen in love with women far more vain, intolerant, and uncompromising than Gwen and she.
It made her smile to remember that Merlin himself had casually admitted the other day how lucky he was that she understood his sense of humor and had a wicked one to match.
However, it made her smile falter to remember what had happened directly afterwards.
Merlin and Arthur had been summoned from Camelot to investigate some suspicious activity in one of the outlying villages that needed immediate attention; the reports had suggested a beast of considerable size and ferocity that had a craving for human flesh, and Mithian, knowing well of Merlin's lack of self-preservation, had gotten her first taste of what it truly meant to be the lover of the Court Sorcerer.
"Is it always like this?" she had asked Gwen, worry numbing her mind and gnawing at her stomach as she watched the knights gallop from the courtyard.
Gwen had smiled sadly. "Even though I know that they never stray far from the other's side... despite Arthur's skill with a sword and Merlin's magic, they aren't immortal, and I can't help but think that their luck will one day—no, I don't think it will ever be any different when they ride out."
They had returned safe and sound, much to the two women's relief, and it was only after Mithian saw them dismount without the burden of wounds that she began to smile at Gwaine's energetic storytelling and reenactment. He had told them about how Arthur and Merlin moved together, anticipated the other's attacks against the creature, and were always aware of the other's position during the fight and how it had absolutely proved his theory that Arthur and Merlin could, on some level, read each other's minds…
"Stop twitching," Gwen suddenly scolded with a laugh, drawing Mithian from her memories and daydreams.
The queen's light fingers twisted her hair skillfully, and for perhaps the third time since Gwen ordered the princess to sit, Mithian said, "You really didn't have to do this, Gwen."
The past two times she said that, the queen had just snorted absentmindedly around a mouthful of pins and had continued braiding Mithian's hair. Judging by the fact that the queen could now speak without dropping pins, the princess assumed that Gwen was nearly done with her hair.
"Nonsense," Gwen scoffed in response. "Your maid is ill, and it's nearly time for the feast."
"I could have left it down," the princess protested.
"Styling hair was always my favorite thing to do when I was Morgana's maid," Gwen insisted simply with only the slightest hint of pain and wistfulness in her voice at the mention of the witch. "You have even more lovely hair than she did." Mithian wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that, but it was unnecessary to do so because Gwen continued, "Besides, Yuletide only comes once a year, and we can't pass up an opportunity to dazzle Merlin, can we?"
Smiling lightly, Mithian admitted, "He is rather adorable when he's rendered speechless, isn't he?"
The queen laughed. "It's not often we can render Merlin speechless—in fact, I believe one of Arthur's goals in life is to surpass him in one of their battles of wit so that he can have the satisfaction of accomplishing the impossible and stilling his tongue. But I do agree with you, and I know that after I'm done, you'll be able to do it without any effort at all. You look beautiful."
When Gwen reached for the comb on the vanity, Mithian moved her head slightly to smile gratefully in her direction at the compliment. "As do you," she said. "Arthur's jaw will fall to the floor when he sees you walk in."
Mithian could hear the smile on the queen's lips when she sighed happily, "This is going to be the best Yule I've had in a long time."
"Has Annis decided to remain here?"
"Yes, she did, actually," Guinevere answered. "It was a pleasant surprise. Even though quite a few of them left, I didn't expect so many people to want to stay after the negotiations. Lord Godwyn's still here with Elena, King Olaf and Vivian, Lord Ector and his son Kay…"
"They get to continue living off your kindness," Mithian snorted. "But, no, it's more than that. The small families must want to be a part of the great festivity here. Mine jumped at the chance to spend Yule with a larger group of people – even before Merlin and I began courting and even before I knew that I'd be remaining here anyway. And you cannot deny that Camelot during Yuletide is a sight to behold. I hear singing and laughter everywhere I go."
"And the lights…" Gwen said in agreement, her fingers lightly fluttering about Mithian's head. "The candlelight gathering in the courtyard every year is my favorite tradition in Camelot, but Merlin really has outdone himself with this."
"He didn't hold back," Mithian agreed.
The warlock surprised everyone one morning when they discovered that every corridor in the castle had been strung with colorful beads of light that shifted and floated about the ceiling. The grand hall where they were to feast, however, was the most beautifully decorated of all and was adorned not only by glowing balls of color that winked in and out of existence, but also by holly, mistletoe, eternally-frozen icicles, and candles that burned with both blue-white and orange flames.
"He won't have to hold back ever again," Gwen said. "He's really changed these past few weeks. Before, he was still a little… withdrawn and wary about using his magic before others. Now, he's more Merlin than he'd ever been before. More open and outgoing, less secretive…"
"Less secretive?" Mithian repeated. "I suspected he had been planning something before he decorated the castle, and when I woke to see the lights, I thought that that had been it, but I was mistaken. He's still sneaking off and locking himself in his tower and acting strangely and – and smiling that mysterious smile, Gwen."
"Did it ever occur to you that he might be planning a surprise for you?" Gwen suggested, nudging her friend gently in the shoulder.
Mithian almost whipped her head around, but she caught herself at the last second.
"You don't suppose…?" she breathed, her heart fluttering like butterfly wings.
"You never really know with Merlin, as you well know," Gwen said. "At the very least, he has a gift for you, but if you're honest with yourself, how long have you two felt something for each other?"
"It was during the time that Odin and Morgana had taken control of Nemeth," Mithian replied immediately. It had surprised her to learn that he too developed feelings for her during that time, but in retrospect, she thought it ridiculous that she found it all that surprising when it felt so right. "That was—was that eight months ago now?"
She suddenly felt weightless, like a bird soaring through the air, like a leaf being carried by the wind. A tingling sensation spread from her heart to her stomach and limbs, and she was sure that if she had been overcome with this feeling of bubbly, thrilling happiness while standing, she probably would have struggled to remain upright.
"Exactly. You've already arranged to remain in Camelot to stay with him, your father and Hunith are thrilled that you two are getting on, not a single one of us thinks you're not perfect for each other—and I wouldn't put it past him to ask for your hand sometime soon. But then again, this is Merlin we are talking about."
After calming down and reminding herself that they only had been courting for less than a month, she joked, "Knowing him, he's more likely to ask for Ságol's hand first. It's never out of sight or out of reach, and that's without the sticking charm that backfired on him yesterday."
Merlin's staff had become the source of not one but multiple running jokes. Of course, there was the fact that it never left his hand, and the fact that it truly was stuck to his hand for a good day and a half before he figured out what the proper counter-spell was only made the joke more comical. For another, there was the fact that he felt it necessary to nickname the thing at all, and Arthur's resulting argument with his warlock about the stupidity of his choice of nickname was all too hilarious to have been witness to.
"I still cannot believe he calls it 'stick,'" Gwen giggled. "Only Merlin."
Mithian's eyes danced with mirth, and the image of Arthur's face when he was told what ságol meant flashed before through her mind's eye. "Since its true name is a sacred secret the pair of them will guard with their lives, I think there is no nickname more fitting than that."
Snickering and shaking her head, Gwen took a step back and said proudly, "Done."
After gracefully standing to her feet, Mithian turned to Gwen's looking glass and smiled gratefully. Her hair was parted to the side, and save for a single strand of dark hair, the rest of her hair had been twisted into braids and coiled into a gorgeous bun at the back of her head.
"Thank you, Gwen."
Looking pleased with her work, Gwen unconsciously brushed her hands against her red velvet gown and grinned as she said, "Anytime, Mithian."
A mischievous light glinted in Mithian's brown eyes, and after hooking her arm through Gwen's, she asked, "Are you ready to dazzle?"
"I think it's more a question of whether I'm ready to hear your brother and Gwaine's drunken singing."
"Wouldn't be a proper feast or holiday without some drunken singing, would it?"
Gwen laughed, and they walked to the hall to join their family and friends in the jolly winter celebrations.
This feast was far more informal than the last few that Mithian had been to. To the princess' utter delight, not a single person flinched whenever Merlin was kind enough to encourage any of the dwindling flames in the fireplaces to surge again or whenever he levitated a dish that someone had called for that had been across the table. The atmosphere was lighter; laughter came easier, and everyone was comfortable, content, and unafraid to be as ridiculous and outgoing as they wanted.
And another thing that made this feast different than the others was that everyone participated in one conversation; during the welcoming feast and during Merlin's Court Sorcerer ceremony, the room had divided itself into groups, each with their own separate conversations. Because there was a more intimate sense of unity that hadn't been present during the larger feasts, Mithian felt more than hopeful for the New Year. She felt ecstatic.
To see them all gathered here, acting not as nobles or kings or sorcerers, but as friends—Mithian had never believed more in Arthur and Merlin's vision of uniting the lands and peoples. The prophecies of Emrys and the Once and Future King she had heard mentioned had never seemed more real. It was happening before her very eyes.
After everyone had had their fill of food, Arthur called for the music to begin, and when Percival led Elena, Gwaine led Vivian, and the king led his queen to the open space for dancing, she wasn't surprised to see Merlin holding his hand out to her.
His fingers, rough and callused, were warm, and he asked impishly, "Care to go artfully tripping, princess?"
"I'd go anywhere with you," Mithian said earnestly, watching his eyes brightened and shone like sunlight hitting a lake's surface. "Just remember to leave Ságol behind. You might need both hands to catch yourself if you fall."
Scowling at her with a good-natured gleam in his eyes, he propped the staff against his chair, and after removing his midnight blue cloak to reveal his simple but snuggly fitting red tunic, he led her out onto the floor.
He placed his hands on her hips, and as Mithian turned to face him and put her hands on his wiry shoulders, he struck her breathless. Her gaze appreciatively scanned his broad chest, before making their journey up…
Mithian had never wanted to tear that neckerchief off more than she did it that moment. On a normal day, she thought it was endearing, but it seemed to occur to her for the first time that the cumbersome fabric was frustrating and that she couldn't admire him appropriately with it in the way.
Catching herself and containing her more dirty thoughts, Mithian flushed lightly, and as her eyes flickered up to his, she couldn't help but enjoy the sight of his strong jawbone, full lips, and soaring cheekbones…
They fell into a rhythm that somewhat matched the rest of the young couples dancing, and when Merlin twirled her successfully, the resulting triumphant, goofy grin and bark of laughter made her heart skip a beat.
"We're getting better at this, aren't we?"
Mithian, who was pleased with herself for not losing a beat during the twirl, laughed, "If by 'better' you mean that we aren't completely traumatizing those around us, then yes, I agree with you."
"Harsh judge," Merlin chuckled.
"You forget that this is a slow piece," Mithian smirked. "Wait for something more upbeat, and you won't be feeling so confident."
Coincidentally enough, the next piece was a quick, peppy tune, and as predicted, Merlin was soon grumbling about how irony was out to get him.
There was magic in the air tonight. It might have had something to do with the now-familiar, subtle warmth and spark of Merlin's own magic pervading the room. It might have had something to do with the spirit of Yule itself, filling everyone with the feeling of merriness and love.
But there was something more.
Every touch sent a lick of tingling fire through her veins; every word he spoke and smile that lit his fey features sent a joyful shiver down her spine. There was nothing different about him or how he acted, but there was something that made her react this way to him, made her want to touch him, made her want this night to never end and this feeling to never fade.
Mithian didn't necessarily understand, but it wasn't something she felt she needed to understand.
She didn't know how many dances passed before the night drew to a close. Everyone began to file out to find his or her bed, and once Mithian bid her goodnights to her family and friends, she found herself walking alongside Merlin through the castle corridors towards her chambers.
The princess knew better than to try to keep track of the progress of a conversation with Merlin, but she couldn't help but wonder how their conversation about music and how Merlin had once caught Arthur singing had somehow morphed into books.
She had finished the two that Merlin had given her, and after listening to her rattle off some of the interesting things she had learned and after discovering that she was actually very interested in the art of healing, he had brightly offered to fetch some more books for her. In a way, it was perfect because she had been looking for the excuse to not only get back to her chambers for something that she intended to show him but to also get him to herself.
Judging from that glint in his blue eyes, she could imagine she wasn't the only one who wanted a minute alone. *
"You don't have to return those to me now," Merlin said to her.
"I fear you may never get them back if you continue giving me more to read," Mithian said, squeezing his hand and leaning into his side as they entered her chambers. "Besides, a walk through the castle at midnight with you isn't a bad part of the deal."
He waited patiently for her as she gathered the two books, and she was careful to slip her sketchbook into one without him noticing. When she announced that she was ready, she could have sworn she saw tense muscles relaxing and the strangely pained glint in his eyes softening into something more lighthearted and impish.
Once he saw her perplexed frown, he smiled widely and pulled her into a brief, but deep kiss that left her head spinning, and he led the way out of her chambers and up to his tower as he started to chatter about healing, about how Gaius and he would love to teach her some of the physician's craft sometime, and about how they might be able to make a visit to a Druid encampment if she wanted to learn more.
"…of course, I have to find the specific books that I'm looking for now," Merlin said gleefully as they entered his tower.
"I thought you said you had your system figured out!" Mithian accused with a laugh.
"Well, I thought I had it figured out too. I mean, there's the section on dragons, there's the section on Druidic history, and there's the offensive and defensive spell books." While speaking, he pointed out three bookcases in the room, and then he continued, "But then I discovered that I somehow categorized and organized them within each section. It's different depending on which branch of magic it is."
"You sound absolutely delighted about it. I would have thought it annoying."
"I'm actually excited to figure it out," Merlin said, his blue eyes glowing with inquisitiveness and his large hand running over the spines of the pile he had on his workbench. However, a sudden thoughtful and profound depth altered the glow in his eyes, and he said quietly, "It's like—because I did this without thinking or concentrating on where exactly I wanted them placed on the shelves, it'll be like exploring and seeing how my mind works without my actual consciousness in the way. I may learn more about myself than I ever thought possible."
Sometimes Merlin's odd bouts of wisdom and quirky intelligence still caught her off guard; stunned, she said in an awed tone, "I never thought of it that way. You're rather amazing, Merlin, you know that?"
The warlock smirked, and suddenly, she found him whirling her from his side and bringing her to a stop in front of him. Playfully, he locked her in his arms from behind and whispered in her ear, "I think you're amazing."
Her breath caught when he nipped at her ear, and with a smirk matching his, she swiveled in his arms and pressed her palms against his chest. "So much for the books," Mithian laughed as he turned her head up.
"So much for the books," he agreed, brushing his lips across her jaw before finding hers.
This was no sweet, lingering kiss. The moment their lips touched, they were moving, and they couldn't seem to get close enough to each other as the kiss deepened, pulling them further and further into a blind haze of passion. Merlin's hands slid lower and lower down her hips, and instead of feeling much embarrassment at the touch or at the breathy moans she was releasing, Mithian retaliated by slipping her hands under his shirt and letting her fingertips explore his stomach and chest. With every growl that was emitted from his throat, she only grew more and more desperate for his touch.
She felt a surge of wicked satisfaction and triumph when she managed to get that damn neckerchief off of him, but she couldn't quite remember when it was that Merlin pulled the pins from her hair or how exactly it was that his shirt ended up on the ground.
Not that she cared at all.
However, after her back found the wall and after Merlin accidentally knocked over a book and startled them, he chuckled breathlessly, rested his forehead against hers, and whispered throatily, "I love you."
"And I you."
Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he paled. "Mithian…"
"Shhh," she hushed, lowering her lips to his gorgeous collarbone.
"Mithian," he said a little more strongly, making her freeze. "If we—go any further, I'm not sure we'll be able to stop."
For the briefest second, nervousness coiled in her stomach like a snake ready to strike, and she almost drew away in shock in realization of what was happening and where they were headed. However, it was impossible to ignore the stronger part of her, the part that wanted to love him and feel him, the part that noticed how her blood sang through her veins and how her legs trembled with desire…
Mithian looked up into Merlin's open, clear blue eyes, which were locked onto her face and which vigilantly searched for any signs of reluctance. On the surface, the princess saw nothing but his own nervousness and concern, his understanding and patience, but just under the surface, fire and passion raged like an untamed wolf.
He loved her. Truly and utterly. That he was waiting for her decision—and that he was all too willing to accept her decision—had never made it more clear to her.
It proved beyond doubt that he loved her in heart more than he did in body, and having heard of men that weren't quite so noble, she recognized just how lucky she was to have him looking out for her in this way.
She trusted him, and by the gods did she love him.
Her fingers ran up his spine, and smirking wickedly as he shuddered, she trailed kisses across his collarbone and up his jaw before asking, "Now who said anything about stopping?"
When Mithian blinked her eyes open the next morning, the first thing she saw was kaleidoscopic blue.
After he realized she had caught him watching her sleep, a sheepish, lopsided grin spread across his face, and running a hand through his adorable bed-head he said, "Hey."
"Hey," Mithian breathed, snuggling up closer to him so that she could share his body heat to ward off the chill in the air.
"Did I wake you?"
"No, not at all. I think my feet woke me up."
Merlin quirked a brow. "Your feet?"
In response, she touched the top of her bare foot against him, and when he yelped in surprise, she laughed, "Yes, my feet."
Since he was on his side, his head propped up on his elbow, it was easy for him to lean over and kiss her brow, and suddenly, there was a rise in temperature.
After lying back, he asked, "Better?"
"Mmm," she murmured contentedly, moving her head so that it rested on his chest. "You're beautiful, Merlin."
"I think that's supposed to be my line."
"You think you're beautiful?" When Merlin scowled, Mithian smirked and poked him in the stomach, "C'mon, you walked right into that one."
Chuckling, Merlin said, "I didn't mean to."
"I know," she said. "Thank you."
For opening your heart to me. For making me feel... more than I have ever felt before. For saving me. For being here. For making me laugh. For being you.
Despite the infinite amount of 'thank you's she could give to him, she felt that there was nothing that encompassed how she meant to thank him than the answer: "For making this the best Yule I've ever had."
Merlin's hand suddenly went sailing to his forehead. "I can't believe I forgot—I have something for you. I had meant to give it to you last night."
Excitement gripped the princess, and his words reminded her of her own gift for him.
When he made to fling off the doublet, Mithian stopped him and exclaimed, "Why move when you can summon it with the snap of your fingers, magic boy? I'm too comfortable to move."
"Glad to see that I make a nice pillow," Merlin grumbled teasingly, his eyes flashing gold. Something zipped through the air, and the warlock caught it easily.
Staring curiously at his clenched fist, she asked, "Can you do me a favor and summon those books I returned to you? I have something for you as well."
Much to her surprise, he didn't question her request, and she watched lazily as the books meandered their way to the bed and plopped gently onto her lap.
Mithian shifted so that she could easily slip out her sketchbook, and Merlin's eyes brightened upon seeing it. After flipping to a specific page, she handed it to him and waited for his reaction.
"You… you finished it," he breathed, his lips twitching into one of the sweetest smiles she had ever seen grace his face.
"It was after our first kiss," Mithian said. "I remember sitting down, and I just didn't think about it. It wasn't until Ronan knocked on my door calling me for dinner that I realized… your portrait's eyes were done. It was then that I realized…just how much I loved you and wanted to be with you."
Merlin gaped at her, and with a broadening grin, he said, "Thank you for sharing this with me, Mithian. It means a lot."
"I'm glad, Merlin. I thought you would like to see it, but truth be told, I'm keeping that for myself. It's one of the best sketches I've ever done, and seeing as it'd be more than a little strange to give you a sketch of yourself, your gift—it's in the back. Tug it out."
The warlock did as he was told, and he stared at the painting with widening, shining eyes and a gaping mouth.
It was a night scene, but very little of it was dark. Standing slightly off-center was a twisted rowan tree, and as the limbs rose further into the sky, the leaves themselves slowly morphed into wisps, swirls, ribbons of golden and sapphire light. Eventually, the top boughs looked exactly like the magic she had witnessed at Merlin's ceremony, and in the light of the magic that the tree was emitting, Ságol and Excalibur could be seen leaning side by side against the trunk.
"I'll have to thank Gwen again for the paints," Mithian mused when he continued to stare. "I wouldn't have been able to finish this without her help."
"It's—Mithian, this is indescribable," Merlin finally breathed. "I—gods, this is beautiful. I don't think I've ever received a more priceless and heartfelt gift, and it—it seriously… Thank you."
"I'm thrilled you like it."
Setting aside the painting on his bedside table, he said, "I can only hope my gift means as much to you as yours means to me."
He opened his palm, and there sat a ring.
And it wasn't any ring. It was a ring of miniature jade holly leaves and red berries, perfectly intact and perfectly preserved.
"To remind you that there is life everywhere and that hope can be found in even the darkest of times."
Tears flooded Mithian's eyes.
"Some interesting magic was used to make this," Merlin said, smiling. "I had to shrink down the leaves, fit them into a band, and somehow make them able to endure and retain their exact color and shape, but after quite a few failed attempts, I did it."
"Ah, I see this is where the sticking charm came into play," Mithian choked jokingly.
"Indeed it is," Merlin said, laughing.
He sobered quickly and turned it over a few times in his long fingers before continuing, "I—I know it is a bit early—we've only been publicly courting for a month, and even though I know that the court won't accept a proposal now…"
At the word 'proposal,' the tears overflowed and fell down her cheeks.
"Arthur finds the whole idea mad," Merlin continued to ramble, gently brushing a teardrop away with his thumb. "But he thinks every other thing I do or say is mad, and it doesn't matter at all anyway because I don't think it's mad. But… Mithian, I love you, and I don't want to see a day without you in it."
Overwhelmed, Mithian stuttered, "Merlin, is this—are you…?"
"Yes, it is. I am."
A mixture of a squeal, a sob, and a laugh escaped Mithian's mouth, and she nodded fervently. "Then yes. Yes."
"I had hoped you'd say yes." His multifaceted blue eyes blazed with glee, and after slipping the ring onto her finger, he added, "But I was going to give it to you anyway—yes or no. There're some protection spells woven into it that—look!" he suddenly exclaimed in an excited whisper. "It's snowing."
Wiping away her happy tears, she followed his gaze, and as they watched the snow flurry and fall outside, Mithian wanted the moment to last forever. However, she knew that life was going to be calling. Arthur would be knocking—she'd have to tell Merlin to lock his door so that he didn't barge in again—Gwen would be wanting to hear about how her gift was received, her father and brothers would be waiting for her to join them for breakfast… and no doubt something exciting was going to be taking place in Camelot.
But this moment was theirs—and theirs alone—and it was beautiful.
AN: Here was the prompt for this fic: "Mithian is invited to spend the holidays in Camelot. There are feasts, dancing and much merriment. The story is set after Merlin's magic reveal. He is the court warlock and Arthur's adviser. He and Mithian have had an open, lengthy courtship. One night after a feast, they spend the night together in his chambers. Sweet, loving naughtiness shall abound. On Christmas morning, they have a sweet little gift exchange. Then they watch the snow fall out side while cuddling in bed."
It's amusing to me how my wacky mind transforms that into this, lol. ;P
It's been interesting and fun, but seeing as I have learned that writing romance cannot even compare to writing bromance (in my eyes at least), I do not see myself writing a sequel to this. :) Hope you've enjoyed the ending!