Title: Get Me to the Church on Time
Character/s: Arthur, Merlin, Morgana, Gwaine, Leon, Will
Summary: Arthur, since shortly after he proposed, had turned into some kind of wedding planning monster.
Word Count: 1122 (oops)
Prompt: 143 - Late
Author's Notes: This also fills the 'Bridezilla' (or Groomzilla in this case) square of my Trope Bingo round 4 card - that's 3/25 done.
Disclaimer:Merlin is owned by the BBC and Shine. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made. Don't send us to the dungeons.
Here on A03
Get Me to the Church on Time
Merlin was listening to his wedding being planned. He’d given up trying to put in suggestions and had started to copy Leon’s stance of sitting there and saying nothing.
“…and it’s now red and white roses in all the floral displays. Merlin’s side will all wear white roses, and mine will all have Pendragon red…”
“Is the white to signify Merlin’s purity?” Gwaine interrupted with a snicker. “Because, you know, that’s been in serious doubt for a while.”
Arthur and Morgana ignored him.
Arthur, since shortly after he proposed, had turned into some kind of wedding planning monster. Morgana wasn’t much better, worse in fact because she was encouraging him. The two of them, sitting there with their laptops open and their heads together had become a familiar sight in the living room.
Merlin gave a little cough. “Maybe we could go out later? There’s that new film…”
Arthur looked at him as if he’d made the most hideous suggestion possible. “Merlin,” he snapped. “Don’t you want this to be the most perfect wedding ever?”
Merlin would have settled quite happily for a private, quiet ceremony with just a few close friends and family around. No flowers, no swans carrying rings, no harpists, no soloists, everything low-key and then off on honeymoon as soon as possible.
He wasn’t sure that Arthur had got over the shock of being told this yet, so played it safe with his reply.
“Of course I do, Arthur. I’m marrying you, it’ll be perfect whatever.”
And somehow that wasn’t quite the right thing to say either. The Pendragons, apparently, liked things to be done properly. And properly, when it came to weddings, meant completely and utterly over the top.
“Let’s go to the pub,” Gwaine suggested when Arthur and Morgana started arguing about the most suitable cufflinks for the groomsmen.
Merlin was fairly sure Arthur wouldn’t even notice they’d gone.
It seemed to take forever, but finally their wedding day arrived.
Merlin, Arthur had decided, was going to arrive in a horse-drawn carriage whilst Arthur waited for him in the church. Merlin hadn’t missed the fact that this put him firmly in the role of bride, but hadn’t bothered protesting. Besides, horse-drawn carriage sounded quite fun.
“Perhaps I should wear a white dress and veil too?” he suggested.
Arthur had scowled at that. “You’re not taking this seriously,” he accused.
Perhaps not, but Arthur was taking it seriously enough for both of them.
And so, on the day, Merlin was sitting in the flower-strewn carriage with his mother, feeling slightly self-conscious with all the faces staring at them as they passed. Gwaine and Will, who were assigned as his groomsmen, were driving the thing. And that, really, should have been a warning.
When they rode past the same farm entrance for the third time, Merlin started to get a bit suspicious. He glanced at his watch. They had less than five minutes before they were due at the church. They’d never make it.
Arthur was going to be furious.
“Oh don’t worry,” Gwaine reassured him when he pointed this out. “Your watch is wrong.”
“I adjusted it earlier,” Will added. “Just so you wouldn’t worry about times and things.”
Not worry about times? But Arthur had planned the wedding to military precision, right down to the last second.
“So… it’s what? About 10.30?” Merlin asked hopefully. He had a horrible, horrible feeling that it wasn’t.
“11.08 right now,” Gwaine confirmed. “Don’t worry. The bride’s supposed to be late. It’ll be fine.”
Fine. Arthur and Morgana had drummed it into them all that they were to arrive at exactly 11 on the dot. Not even a few seconds either way. It would so not be fine.
It was going to be no weddings and three funerals…
Leon watched as Arthur strode angrily back and forth at the front of the church. If Leon had a pound for every time Arthur had looked at his watch, he would have… well, enough to buy several rounds of drinks at the posh reception later.
“Where is he?” Arthur demanded of Morgana. “Nearly ten minutes late! I knew we should have hired a professional driver instead of letting those two clowns bring him in.”
Morgana looked up briefly from her phone to glare at him. Apparently neither Will nor Gwaine were answering.
Leon cleared his throat, and Arthur turned to scowl at him. “What?”
“Well,” said Leon carefully, “It’s just that you two have been a nightmare for the past month or two. I wouldn’t marry either of you. In fact after your tantrum this morning to the vicar, I’m seriously considering leaving you without a best man.”
Arthur just stared at him in horror. The idea of Merlin not turning up at all obviously hadn’t occurred to him. He looked so devastated at the thought that Leon felt a bit guilty. But it had to be done.
Leon shrugged. “He’s probably just late. That’s custom, after all. But if I were you I’d spend the time sitting and thinking about what’s actually important here and when you’ve worked that out then be very nice to Merlin when he arrives. He’s still got to say I do.”
“Gwaine! Get your sorry arse down here right now or…”
Whatever Morgana was about to threaten Gwaine’s voicemail with was lost when Arthur took the phone out of her hand, switched it off, and then sat down on the nearest bench. He looked very, very worried.
Quietly, his job done, Leon texted Gwaine.
They were 18 minutes late.
Merlin was fully expecting an apoplectic Arthur to be standing outside the church telling him it was all off. Instead there were just Percival and Gwen, smiling happily and helping them out of the carriage while the photographer snapped away. Merlin hadn’t missed Elyan darting back into the church though. Any second, and Arthur would be out there, purple-faced…
Merlin had finally drawn the line at the bridal march, and Arthur had refused the ‘I do, I do, I do’ – type suggestions Gwaine had made. In the end it was Satie’s classic Gymnopédie No.1 that the pianist was striking up, and Merlin wondered if it was the only tasteful thing about the wedding.
But no, there was Arthur standing at the other end of the aisle gazing at him lovingly. He just looked pleased and relieved and not at all angry (unlike the way Morgana was looking at Gwaine and Will, but that was their problem) and of course very, very handsome in his morning suit. It quelled any doubts and reminded him that yes, this is why we’re doing this, as he walked those last few steps and took Arthur’s hand.