A Night of Golden Lights

The grand chandelier hanging above the dining hall bathed the room in golden warmth, casting soft reflections on the crystal goblets and silverware. Laughter bounced off the marble walls, and the scent of roasted meats and sweet pastries filled the air.

At the large rectangular table at the head of the hall, Lancelot sat in his fine cream-white ceremonial uniform, trimmed in gold, his usual stoic demeanor softened by joy. Merlin, seated beside him, wore a flowing silver gown that shimmered like moonlight, her hair loosely tied with strands of pearl. Their hands remained quietly interlocked beneath the table, an unspoken reassurance between them.

To their left, King William and Queen Juliet sat in regal form, sharing subtle smiles and raising glasses in honor of the newlyweds. Captain Percival leaned toward Jessica, whispering something that made her chuckle into her wine. On the right, Franciele laughed softly as she teased Joshua, who wore an amused smirk.

Meanwhile, at one of the round tables in the center of the hall, Raphael leaned back in his chair with a glass of dark wine in hand.

Jack, his mouth full of roast duck, spoke cheerfully, "They had a beautiful marriage ceremony."

Emilia nodded with a warm smile, "It was simple... but heartfelt. You could feel it, the realness."

"Lancelot looked like he was going to cry when he saw her walk in," Rowdy said, earning a chuckle from Sam beside him.

King William raised a mug of ale. "To Sir Lancelot and Lady Merlin! May they always fight side by side and never against each other!"

"To Lancelot and Merlin!" everyone echoed, clinking glasses.

The musicians struck up a lively tune, strings, flutes, and drums and the mood in the room shifted. Servants moved elegantly between tables, clearing plates and offering fresh drinks as nobles began rising, drawn toward the cleared marble floor in the center of the hall.

Lancelot stood first, turning to Merlin with a hand extended and a shy smile. "Shall we, my lady?"

Merlin giggled and rose, accepting his hand. "Lead the way, my husband."

Gasps and applause rippled through the room as the newlyweds took to the floor. All eyes followed them as the music softened into a slow, graceful waltz. Lancelot held Merlin close, spinning her gently. His stiffness melted as she rested her head lightly against his chest, her smile serene.

"I got better at dancing." Merlin whispered playfully.

"Yeah, you full of surprises," he replied, dipping her slightly, drawing another cheer from the crowd.

Soon, other couples joined them, Jack and Jessica gliding with quiet elegance, Julia pulling a reluctant Raphael onto the floor, Rowdy spinning Sam with excessive flair that made her laugh until she could hardly breathe. Even Emelia dragged Joshua out, and after a moment of stubborn resistance, he gave in, spinning her playfully.

The night grew fuller and warmer. Platters of fruit, cheese, and chocolate desserts were brought out, and wine flowed as freely as the laughter. Stories were shared, tales of Lancelot's most awkward missions, of Merlin's defiant childhood antics, of their time spent arguing, protecting, and finally, loving each other.

As the music slowed again and many began drifting back to their tables, Merlin and Lancelot remained on the floor, still swaying in each other's arms.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"For what?" he asked, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"For choosing me… even when you were being forced to marry someone else."

He smiled, eyes glassy but full of certainty. "There was never going to be anyone else."

Above them, the chandelier glittered like stars. And in that moment, surrounded by allies, enemies, nobles, and friends, they weren't just a knight and a witch. They were a man and a woman, who had earned this moment of peace and happiness, no matter what darkness tomorrow might bring.

Later that night, the golden glow of the dining hall faded behind thick Noble House walls, and the soft hum of celebration gave way to quieter hours. A gentle breeze flowed in through the half-open balcony of the royal guest chambers, brushing over white curtains like whispers of the moon.

In the dim candlelight, Lancelot lay beside Merlin, shirt undone, one arm tucked under his head, the other lazily tracing circles along the bare skin of her back. Merlin rested against him, her body curled into his chest, skin warm and glowing from wine and dancing.

"You smell like roses and fire," Lancelot whispered, brushing his nose along the edge of her ear.

Merlin grinned. "You smell like sword oil and pride."

He laughed softly. "You love it."

She pushed him onto his back, her eyes sparkling mischief as she climbed over him, hair spilling around his face like liquid violet. "I do love it. I love everything about you, even how terrible you are at compliments."

Lancelot's hands slid along her waist. "Then let me show you how good I am at other things."

Their mouths met in a slow, deliberate kiss. It wasn't rushed. It was savoring. Days of tension and battles and stolen glances had led to this, touches slow like poetry, lips tracing stories across skin, laughter mixed with soft gasps. The candle flickered gently, the room filled not with noise, but with meaning.

"I used to think I'd never be enough for you," Merlin murmured as she rested her forehead against his.

"You've always been too much," he whispered back. "Too powerful, too beautiful, too...you. And I've always loved it."

She cupped his cheek, voice trembling like her hands. "Then take all of me."

And beneath the soft golden candlelight, they did, not as a knight and a witch, but as two souls who finally stopped running.

Meanwhile, in the depth of the noble house of Kaizer, inside Eric's lab...

The room was still filled with the faint smell of potions and ink. Glass tubes bubbled with green-blue liquids, parchment lay scattered in curious disorder, and strange runes pulsed faintly on the walls. But at the heart of the chaos sat Eric, legs crossed on a high stool, shirt stained from ink and wine, hair tied up with a ribbon that sparkled faintly in the lamplight.

When the door creaked open, he turned quickly, then smiled brightly.

"Ah! My love!" he exclaimed with flair, pressing a hand to his chest.

Joshua rolled his eyes, stepping in with a large silver platter piled high with meats, fruits, and sweet rolls. "I brought you leftovers. I felt bad that you didn't get to enjoy the event."

Eric gasped dramatically and took the plate like it was treasure. "You sweet, noble beast. I could just kiss you right now."

"You already tried that last week."

Eric winked. "And you dodged beautifully. But one day…"

Joshua chuckled, then began removing his shirt, revealing his muscular frame for the next series of magical tests. Eric stopped chewing mid-bite, eyes slowly dragging down Joshua's torso.

"My god," he whispered. "If the gods don't make statues of you, I will."

Joshua tossed a cloth at him. "Focus, pervert."

Eric caught it and blew a kiss. "I am focused. Just... in my own way."

After a few minutes of fiddling with glowing crystals and poking at runes on Joshua's back, Eric paused, then pulled something from a nearby drawer. "Here," he said softly. "Here is your payment."

He handed Joshua a small, faded photograph. In it, a younger Blanchette stood beside a giant wolf pup, both of them covered in mud and laughing.

Joshua's face lit up like a sun.

Eric explained."This was the summer after she chased a boar into the river."

Eric smiled warmly. "I thought you'd like it."

"Thank you," Joshua said sincerely. "You always give the good ones."

For a moment, the air was still. Then Eric looked down, voice quieter.

"Do you ever feel like… you don't fit?" he asked. "Like you were built wrong? The way I talk, the things I wear, how I don't like fighting or playing noble politics... they all laugh behind my back. Call me names. Mock me when I wear lipstick. Tell me I'm a stain on my house."

Joshua glanced over, setting the photo down. "Eric…"

Eric's voice cracked slightly. "I try to pretend it doesn't hurt, but it does. I feel like a ghost in my own skin."

Joshua stepped off the platform and sat beside him. "You're not a ghost. You're real. More real than most of those fakes upstairs. And yeah… they call me a monster. They look at me like I'm cursed. So I get it."

Eric turned to him, blinking slowly.

"We're both misfits," Joshua said. "But you're kind. And brilliant. And I'll always come back, even when the experiments are done."

Eric's eyes watered a little. "You will?"

Joshua nodded. "Yeah. You're my friend. I like spending time with you. You make me laugh... and sometimes annoy the hell out of me. But you're real."

He reached over and pulled Eric into a firm, brotherly hug.

Eric sniffled, then smirked. "You're squeezing too tight. I might faint from the scent of testosterone."

They both laughed, until Eric tried to sneak a hand downward. Joshua immediately grabbed his wrist and shoved it back up.

"Nice try."

"Worth it," Eric muttered.

As they both sat there in the warm lamp-lit silence, one laughing, the other grinning, something unspoken passed between them, a quiet trust built not on status or bloodlines, but on acceptance. And for once in the cold castle corridors, the lab didn't feel lonely at all.