Chapter Text
“Miss Katherine, will you please stop fussing?”
She stood begrudgingly on a stool in front of her full body mirror. Her maids scurried around her in a whirlwind of scissors and pins as they pulled at fabric and snipped threads. Katherine could barely breathe, her corset digging into her sides.
“I’ll stop fussing when you stop sticking me with needles,” the princess countered sourly. She was usually polite – as she was taught to be – smiling when she really didn’t feel like it, repressing sighs and bitter comments, her voice remaining sweet. She understood the privileged position she was in and was not one to take things for granted. However, everyone has their limits.
This was supposed to be a happy occasion, one that she would tell her grandchildren about, that they would write about again and again in the kingdom’s storybooks.
The only emotions that had come up so far were less than savoury.
She missed Gwaine more than anything. Since the preparations had begun, the princess was whisked off back to Mora, leaving her knight to flounder by himself in Camelot. After countless fittings and countless questions thrown at her by wedding planners and florists and chefs, Katherine was beginning to feel like she was buried neck deep in soil – or submerged in ten feet deep water.
There was always a lump in her throat, a hitch in her breath, a stutter in her speech and a flutter in her heartbeat. The newly betrothed couple had only been away from eachother for a few days but she couldn’t deny that ache in her chest. It was like someone had placed the hot tip of a blade against her skin, just piercing the outer layer, creating a dull pain that didn’t hinder but was impossible to ignore.
Any time she caught sight of chestnut hair or a glint of armour, Katherine’s heart would leap into her throat, sweat breaking out across the back of her neck. Of course it wasn’t him. It was never him. But still, her body called out to him – Gwaine, Gwaine, Gwaine. Her Gwaine.
“I’m sorry, My Lady,” said her seamstress, yet again catching her with a needle. “But we’re under a tight schedule and the Queen wants this dress to be perfect. You do only get one wedding after all.”
“Unless my husband dies and I’m forced to remarry,” Katherine shot back, tugging on the itchy fabric at her shoulder.
“Now, now, Lady Katherine. That’s no way to think.” Her maid chastised her.
Miss Adelaide had been her nurse since her birth. The woman was practically ancient, a short, plump, red-faced lady who was very good at sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Still, Katherine loved her like a second mother.
“You and Sir Gwaine have been through a lot to get here,” she continued. “I for one feel very positive about your match.”
“Can’t say my mother shares your sentiments.”
“The Queen approved the ceremony. That means a lot more than you realise, young madam. She could have asked for his head.” Her maid had started running a brush through her dark hair, much to the dressmaker’s dismay. “I would count my lucky stars if I were you.”
“Alright, you’ve made your point. I acted foolishly and I recognise that most in my situation are not so fortunate.” She folded her arms across her chest, prompting another sigh from her seamstress.
“You must stop fidgeting, Your Highness – unless you want to walk down the aisle looking like a driggle-draggle.”
“Right,” Katherine snapped. “That’s enough. Everyone out.”
“But miss-” tried her maid.
“Out, now.”
There was a flurry of footsteps as the room cleared, maids and servants throwing hurried glances at each other.
Katherine stared back at her reflection, the dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights full of longing. Usually she slept well, pleasant dreams almost every night. But of late, she’d had consistent visions full of stress – a groom-less wedding, said groom being dragged away at the alter by armed guards, or worse yet, him getting to the altar and deciding he didn’t want her anymore.
A frantic shake of her head cleared that thought from her mind. None of this was helpful. Gwaine loved her; there was no doubt about that. He wasn’t exactly one to keep his feelings to himself.
This was just all so new to her. The princess had never felt like this for someone before, felt anything for anyone, let alone have those feelings be reciprocated. Of course there had been suitors over the years. Her mother had done her best to pair her up with eligible nobles – or who she thought was eligible, most of whom were a little too old, or a tad creepy – but Katherine flat out refused to wed anyone that she had not chosen for herself. “If I am to rule this kingdom one day with my husband, I shall not be stuck with a geriatric misogynist,” she would say and her mother would sigh. The princess knew it was only a matter of time before she no longer had a choice in the matter, so it was a godsend that Gwaine came along when he did.
Did she believe in fate? Now that was a question.
Fate was the stuff of legends, something that the druids warned of, said there was no escape from your true destiny. Of course she believed in magic; she’d seen it with her own eyes – but destiny? Was it her father’s destiny to succumb to illness at such a youthful age? Was it her mother’s to rule the kingdom without her king by her side? If that were the case, fate was a cruel master.
A knock sounded on her door, instantly boiling up that frustration from moments before.
“I said leave me be,” she called out, assuming it was Adelaide or her seamstress back to see if she’d cooled off yet.
Instead, a raven haired boy poked his head around the door, a hesitant smile on his face. “Sorry, I can come back later if this isn’t a good time.”
The anger seeped out of her as quickly as it had risen.
Merlin must have sensed a shift in her as he stepped more fully into the room. “You look incredible,” he beamed.
“Merlin!” She ran to the man in her doorway, now in his ceremonial servants clothes. She linked her arm around his, dragging him over to her full length mirror. They watched themselves in it, both wearing a wide grin. This was exactly who she needed right now, someone who didn’t scramble her head or need to measure the size of her bust.
As much as she hated all the fussing, she had to hand it to her seamstress – her wedding dress really was beautiful.
“This dress is perfect,” she voiced aloud. It was a pearlescent white with gold detail along the seams and hems.
“Yes, it is,” Merlin agreed. “And here I am looking like a right prat.”
Katherine snorted and shoved him playfully. “You look lovely. Although, if you’re really feeling self conscious we can switch outfits? I’m sure you’d look very fetching in white.”
Merlin pursed his lips as if considering it before cracking a smile once more. “Gwaine is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”
She turned to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Thank you, Merlin. I appreciate you being here, so much.”
He gave one quick nod, humble as ever. “Everyone is gathered. Are you ready?”
Katherine took one last look at herself in the mirror, paying close attention to every feature – the line of her nose, the length of her eyelashes, the wave of her hair. As she looked into her own eyes, she saw nothing but surety.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Then you’d better move out of the way and let us finish up or you’ll walk down the aisle looking a state.” Adelaide came sweeping back into the room, who’d clearly been listening at the door, swiftly followed by an entourage of maids and dressers.
Ruby encrusted jewellery was placed delicately around her neck, a small crown on her head – she was still a princess after all.
When it was all over and her maids felt she had been pressed and prodded a satisfactory amount, Adelaide stood before her, eyes filling. “Oh my, you look so grown up. Feels like only last week that I was holding you in my arms. A little bundle of joy.” The nurse cleared her throat, blinking the tears from her eyes and regaining her composure. “Now, let’s get you to your betrothed.”
-
The hall was packed. Mora’s great hall was marginally smaller than Camelot’s, and felt far more claustrophobic due to the minimal number of windows – which was unusual. There was a theory in the kingdom that the ruler who had the castle built was some mythical beast who hated sunlight. Absurd of course, but a fun story to scare the children in the lower town.
She could make out her mother’s face, just off to the side, and their court genealogist front and centre, prepared to officiate.
But they weren’t who she was searching for. No, there was one man more important than any other at this moment, at every moment.
And there he was, looking dashing as ever in his armour. True to character, he didn’t seem one bit afraid, totally assured and confident – that eased her pounding heart a little.
‘Keep calm, Katherine, keep calm,’ she thought to herself, repeating it over and over like some sort of chant, a mantra to remain sane.
The trumpets had sounded when the doors swung open, a bright herald of the bride’s arrival. Hundreds of eyes turned her way, most shining with pride and glee – their princess finally finding happiness after such sorrow had fallen across the kingdom – but of course there was the odd face glazed over with boredom. She couldn’t expect everyone to care about her wedding.
It was a strange sound, the sound of her footsteps on the wooden floor. It echoed almost in slow motion, bouncing off each wall and then back into her ears, distorted. It rattled around her head like it was hollow, as hollow as the hall she walked across.
But there he stood, trying his best to look stoic and failing miserably, a huge grin spreading over his lips as soon as he met her eyes. He loved her. That look said it all. It said he would risk life and limb to keep her from harm. It said she would never feel lonely again with him by her side, that she would want for nothing – never mind the fact that she would be the one providing for them in this union.
“Hi,” he said under his breath as they finally came face to face. Their hands joined before everyone, a mark of their bond and togetherness. His fingers wrapped firmly around her, another sign of his assurance.
There was that familiar glint in his eye, the same old upward tug at the corner of his lip. Only Gwaine would look like a smug bastard on the happiest day of his life.
Her periphery told her the officiant was speaking, his lips moving, shapes forming words, but she couldn’t hear a thing. Gwaine gave a subtle nod of his head when it was her turn to speak and she did as she was prepared to.
And then it was done. And then he was kissing her.
Her Gwaine, officially her Gwaine and his Katherine. Life hadn’t felt this glorious since before her father had passed. She even swore she saw a tear in her mother’s eye, a hint of pride, and the princess threw her head back and laughed – a full belly laugh. It was far from ladylike, but Katherine couldn’t give a rats arse. She was happy, genuinely happy – not just because of a man, but because she had chosen this man for herself. She had taken back control of her life in a way that before had seemed impossible. She laughed and laughed and laughed.