My Prerogative (A Series of One Shots and Other Flights of Fancy)

With This Ring (Tom Hiddleston)

"Tom, stop fidgeting," Nora whispers harshly as she has at least three times during the ceremony. He's not doing it on purpose. He's fidgety by nature, and the thing he has on his mind doesn't help.

When he had received the invitation to the royal wedding, he thought at first there had been some error. After all, he was older than Harry by a few years, older even than Will by only two and he hadn't been invited to that wedding.  There was no mistake, though, and so he accepted, thinking that Nora would enjoy the pomp and circumstance. As an American she'd not had a chance to see such a regal event.

"Colonist" is what Nora jokingly called herself not long after meeting Tom. After all, he is just so British that she often felt she needed to assert her Americanness in competition. As the initial days and weeks of dating turned into a few months, she found that their differences actually complemented each other. Now six months into their relationship, she thanks the heavens, and her producer, for assigning her the job of interviewing Tom at NPR New York on that fateful day. They had seemed to hit it off immediately, going on their first date the same day as the interview. Despite their lives being on different continents, to Nora an eight hour flight now seems only a minimal sacrifice when she sees his smiling face again.

This trip has been much the same. Nora had managed to incorporate work with pleasure, delivering a daily radio report on the upcoming nuptials for the week before the wedding, meaning that she's been able to spend the majority of time with Tom.

There's been no official public appearances for the two, Tom's made sure of that. Not that they haven't already walked the red carpet together. No, in addition to asking her to coffee immediately following the interview, Tom had asked her to attend a film premier in New York just a few short days after meeting her. She'd eagerly said yes, causing her worry that she might be perceived as easy or, worse yet, a fame seeker.

Tom saw it as adorable when she said yes a bit too quickly then blushed at her own enthusiasm. His years of being a celebrity had hardened him to some extent, always looking deeper to try to see the meaning of other's actions. In Nora, he saw nothing but sincerity and genuine interest in getting to know him, something that caused him to let down his guard. He was tired, tired of questioning other people's motives, knowing he was pinning his hopes on his perception of Nora being correct. Luckily, his trust in her was not unfounded, and their relationship blossomed.

Fate was smiling on Tom that day six months ago, he knows. He knew even at that time. And now, here he sits in a cathedral with British and world royalty, both those by birth and others ordained by public consensus, and all he could think about is the love of his life, the woman sitting beside him. Scolding him like a five year old.

Nora grabs his hand and squeezes, hoping he'll take the action as a nonverbal signal to stop bouncing his knee. When she looks at him, he returns her scowl with a look of a remorseful puppy having been discovered chewing on his mistress' slipper. That look always did Nora in, and her scowl turns to a smile. Tom smiles back softly, leaning in to give her a kiss next to her ear.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are?" he whispers.

"About a hundred times today... but you can keep going," she whispers back, causing him to giggle "eheheh" softly and her to nudge him in the ribs. Someone behind them makes a shushing sound, making Tom and Nora to sit up straighter and look forward.

Tom takes Nora's hand in his, feeling her body shaking slightly through her hand. As he sneaks a sideways look at her, he sees she's barely suppressing a giggle at being caught. This is one of the things he loves about her, the humor and joy she sees in the world. It reminds him of who he used to be, and though he'll never be that carefree young man again, having Nora in his life lets him reclaim the parts of himself he's been missing.

He does mean it when he says he loves Nora, he told her so the day after he'd left New York though he'd only known her a week. They'd spent every waking hour together during that time they could. He'd not intended to say it; he'd wanted to wait until they saw one another again. The feeling was so overwhelming that he thought his heart would burst if he didn't say it, so he blurted it like a lovesick schoolboy as soon as she'd answered when he'd rung her upon landing at Heathrow.

The older woman sitting next to him in first class had chuckled at his exuberance in declaring his love. Nora had paused, eight hours away and in America. Tom thought he'd lost the call, though deep inside he'd actually feared that he'd jumped the gun, been to quick or even presumptuous in his declaration.

All his worries were for naught when she squeaked, "You love me?"

"Yes," he almost whispered, causing the older woman next to him to lean closer, presumably to better eavesdrop.

"I love you too, Tom," Nora said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

Fast forward to this day, in this chapel, at this wedding between a Brit and an American, and the irony is not lost on Tom. Nor on Nora. She's never wanted to be a princess. Well, at least not the Cinderella kind. No, she's more the Merida kind, at least she always thought so. Now, knowing Tom for these months, she likes to think that even Merida would be fine falling in love with a man who is her equal, not someone looking to make her his property.

It's time for the exchange of the rings. As they stand, Nora once again seeks Tom's hand, squeezing and feeling a squeeze in return. She smiles up at him, and though the bride and groom have barely begun their vows, she already feels tears pricking her eyes. This is Tom's cue to reach for the kerchief in his pocket. He fumbles with it a bit, making him glad that he practiced with it at least a half dozen times before leaving the house.

As he hands the folded kerchief to Nora, it weighs down her hand more than it should. She looks up at Tom again with a question in her eyes. His attention is raptly set on the soon-to-be newlyweds, though he's sure that Nora and any other guest within a five foot radius can hear his heart beating loudly in his chest.

Nora takes her hand from his and begins unwrapping the kerchief. What she finds makes her knees wobble. Inside is a ring tied to the kerchief.

"It was my gram's," Tom whispers, now looking down at his beloved. "My grandfather proposed to Gram at the wedding reception of a good friend. I just couldn't wait that long."

A sob breaks from Nora's throat, though luckily the other guests seem to think it has to do with the wedding. She nods slightly, pressing her lips together to suppress another sound while handing the kerchief back to Tom. With shaky hands, he releases the ring from the knot at the end of the kerchief, letting it slide into his palm.

Tom leans down to kiss next to her ear softly. "It's a Burmese ruby. Grandfather purchased it while stationed there during the first world war. He said the moment he saw the gem, it reminded him of his love back home, my grandmother." As he slips the ring on Nora's finger, she looks from it to the man she loves, lifting her lips to his in a kiss that he returns and holds all the promises she needs.

As the Duke and Duchess of Sussex make their way down the aisle with smiles from all those in attendance, Tom and Nora pay them no regard. They've already begun their own happily ever after.