Merlin_the_elf fic
Jan. 2nd, 2009 03:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aleathielSo, I did in fact write a Christmas-themed Merlin fic, but since it was a gift in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
merlin_the_elf I couldn't admit it was mine until the reveal. (original posting)
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fortassetu
Title: Midwinter
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: approx 5500
Summary: Merlin needs a Midwinter gift for Arthur. Arthur needs a Midwinter gift for Merlin.
Many thanks toeldanna for reminding me that writing fluffy fics at Christmas is completely acceptable :P
Winter was drawing in and the nights were shortening. Snow had fallen and the courtyards of Camelot were swamps of muddy slush from soldiers’ boots. The rooftops, though, when Merlin looked out of his window, were vast untrodden hillocks of white.
In Merlin’s village Midwinter was celebrated by a giant feast. Everyone congregated and decorated one of the longhouses with greenery and lanterns. A giant fire was built in the stone fireplace and the villagers gathered around it, singing, dancing and telling stories through the longest night of the year. They brought gifts of food, everyone contributing something, and sharing what they had to last them through the long cold until the spring came around again. They hung mistletoe from the beams overhead and at the darkest hour they passed among each other, exchanging kisses and blessings. And then everyone tramped out into the snow to stand together in the cold and watch the midwinter dawn rise over the tree-covered hills.
It was the first year that Merlin wouldn’t be there amongst his friends, sharing their food and their company. He’d thought about returning, briefly, before dismissing the idea. It was not good weather for travelling. And he wanted to experience the midwinter celebrations in Camelot.
He was not prepared, however, for the ways in which Camelot celebrated differently.
*
“What do you mean?” Merlin asked, horrified, looking from Gwen to Morgana and then back again.
The women exchanged a glance. “Is it not customary where you grew up?” Gwen asked, tentatively. “How did you show your appreciation to the people you care about?”
“We…” Merlin waved his hands around, grasping for words. “We didn’t have a lot of stuff. People weren’t wealthy. We had a feast and everyone contributed food.”
Morgana and Gwen exchanged another glance and they smiled softly. “We do that here, too,” Morgana assured him. “But the crown holds the feast for all the nobility and the servants. Everyone together for one night of the year. The servants aren’t expected to contribute any more than on a normal night. And they get to eat and dance alongside the knights and ladies.”
Merlin looked even more horrified. “Dance?” he stuttered.
“Don’t worry,” Morgana said, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “Nobody will force you to dance.”
Gwen looked briefly disappointed, but she shook her head in agreement with her mistress. “It’s for fun, Merlin,” she said. “Everyone together to fill the longest night of the year. They have a giant log that burns in the fireplace, and people tell stories and sing songs…”
“…and exchange gifts,” Merlin finished for her, staring again at the scabbard on Morgana’s dressing table. “What on earth am I going to do?”
Morgana ran her fingers along the finely wrought metalwork. It had clearly taken Gwen’s father months of work and the women had been keen to show it to Merlin when he stopped by with some sleeping draughts for Morgana.
“It’s Morgana’s Midwinter gift for Arthur,” Gwen had told Merlin proudly. “My father made it.”
“Don’t worry,” Gwen told him now as he stood staring in horror at his hands. “You only need a few gifts for those people closest to you. Gaius, of course, and Arthur.”
Merlin bit his lip, worriedly. “What about you?” he asked bluntly.
Gwen blushed and looked away. “No, Merlin,” she said softly. “There is no need for you to give me anything.”
Merlin groaned and put his head in his hands. “Is this another complicated etiquette thing that I’m never going to understand?” he asked, his voice muffled.
“Yes,’ Morgana replied with more than the hint of a smile, and she slid her white hand through his arm and guided him over to stand by the window, looking out across the snow. “But luckily for you, you have me to guide you through it.”
Behind them Merlin could hear Gwen beginning to clear up to room. “Now,” Morgana began, “Gifts are primarily for family. For you I would consider getting something for Gaius. He’ll be flattered because it intimates that you see him as a father.” She raised her hand to prevent it when Merlin began to speak. “You owe Gaius a lot,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “And, conveniently for you, I happen to know that he would like some star-spliced sage. His eyes are not good enough to prepare it now, although you know he’d be horrified to have to admit it. Perhaps you could gather and prepare some?”
Merlin looked at her in awe. “How do you…”
She looked at him flatly. “Merlin, I make it my business to know everything here. It’s the only way to avoid the boredom of stitching and socialising and maintaining decorum.” She grinned, briefly, a flash of genuine emotion before her expression was schooled again. “And the purpose of a Midwinter gift is to show that you have thought of that person and that you appreciate them. Yes, at court it is often an excuse for expense and flamboyance, but that is not necessary. Give Gaius something that shows how you value him and he will be more than pleased.”
Merlin ducked his head in thanks and made as if to move away. Morgana’s fingernails dug into his arm. She didn’t turn to look at him, but continued to gaze out over the snowy rooftops serenely.
“There are three other occasions when one gives gifts,” she continued. “When courting, or to a childhood or lifelong friend, or to someone to whom you feel you owe an expression of gratitude.”
Merlin gave her a look of pure despair.
Her mouth softened into a smile. “Don’t raise Gwen’s hopes with a gift,” she said softly, so that her maid would not hear. “I suspect you do not wish to encourage her attentions.”
Merlin turned bright red. Morgana’s gaze was piercing, but her smile seemed satisfied.
“Now,” she said briskly, “since you have no old, childhood friends here, then you are clear out of that one. Which leaves Arthur. He has saved you and you have saved him. Your lives are intrinsically connected, not to mention the fact that it would probably be rude to ignore him. Arthur doesn’t like being ignored.”
Her voice was louder now, and Gwen was closer. Merlin heard his friend laugh. He smiled too, because Morgana’s words were true. And yet how on earth would he find a suitable present for Arthur? The scabbard Morgana had for him was beautiful, exquisite and entirely the right kind of gift for the crown prince. What on earth could he give that was even on the same scale?
Then another horror struck him. “Will Arthur have a gift for me?” he blurted out. Because a gift from Arthur that was vastly superior to his gift in return…
Morgana’s expression darkened. “Yes,” she said decisively. “I have no doubt Arthur has a gift for you. What it is, however, eludes me.” She looked thoroughly fed up at the admission.
“So what am I going to do?” Merlin almost wailed, looking frantically across the room to Gwen for help, then back to Morgana. “I don’t have anything I could give Arthur! Where to I even begin to go about…”
Morgana pressed a finger to his lips.
“What did I tell you just a moment ago? It is not about the value of a gift, but about the thought that went into it.”
Well that didn’t help at all.
“Servants don’t give their masters expensive things,” Gwen clarified. “It isn’t expected.”
“Gwen gave me these beautiful hairpins,” Morgana said, lifting them from a box on her dresser. “She embroidered these flowers herself.” Merlin admired them dutifully.
“So what, I should embroider something decorative on one of Arthur’s shirts?” he asked sceptically.
They both laughed softly. “Do you have that skill?” Morgana asked, curiously.
Merlin shook his head. “I don’t have any… skills,” he said, with a slight hesitation. He wondered if there were something he could create with magic without it being obviously enchanted…
“What do you normally do for Arthur?” Gwen asked. “You run errands, do his laundry, clean his room…”
An expression Merlin didn’t recognise flitted across Morgana’s face. “When Arthur and I were children,” she spoke softly. “Uther used to decorate our rooms with greenery for Midwinter. He’d tie evergreen boughs to the rafters and twine leaves across the windowsills to remind us that it wouldn’t be white and grey and cold forever, and that under the snow there is still green.”
She stopped speaking and looked at Merlin, waiting for him to make the connection.
“You think I should decorate Arthur’s room?” he asked.
She shrugged elegantly. “It would be an extension of your normal duties. It wouldn’t cost you anything more than time. And it would show that you had thought of something appropriate for Arthur…”
Merlin nodded. “Thank you, thanks a lot,” he said, turning to leave. He paused at the door and spun back. “Any particular kind of evergreen?”
Morgana shook her head. “Anything you can find. Fur, spruce, holly, ivy…”
“Thanks,” he said again, and let the door bang closed behind him.
Gwen stood and looked at Morgana. “What?” Morgana asked innocently.
“You don’t think having Merlin decorate Arthur’s room the way he liked it as a boy is a little bit sentimental?” she asked. “You don’t think Arthur will consider it sentimental?”
Morgana smiled and tapped the tips of her fingers together. “Oh, I hope so,” she replied.
*
The day before the longest night was a busy day in Camelot. Arthur had a group of his knights out to cut down and haul back the great trunk of a tree which would then be installed in the fireplace in the great hall and lit when the sun went down.
Merlin watched them ride away, laughing and joking, their cheeks ruddy from the cold, the snow flurries catching in their hair. Arthur, among them, was at his brightest, full of joy. Merlin couldn’t help smiling as he watched, keeping himself hidden so that the prince wouldn’t call upon him with some last minute task.
He had plans for himself today.
He’d spent three days furtively preparing Gaius’s sage whenever the physician was away and finally that was ready, tied in a pretty bundle with a ribbon Gwen had procured for him. Now it was time to prepare Arthur’s gift.
He made his way into the woods in the opposite direction from the log-hauling party, keeping to the shadows and trying not to attract attention. If challenged he could say he was gathering something for Gaius, but it was easier not to be seen at all.
He selected the best branches – his eyes glowing gold as he chose some out of his reach – cutting some fresh and green with his knife, gathering up others from where they had already fallen. He’d brought along a sack, and he stuffed the greenery into it, slinging it over his shoulder to carry. The holly looked particularly attractive, with its bright berries, but he soon found that gathering it cut and prickled his hands and there was no way to get it to lie flat in the sack.
It took him under an hour to gather a full bag and he hauled it back up the hill to the castle, hoping that it would be enough.
It clearly wasn’t.
He spent much of the afternoon – carefully watching the sun traverse the sky and drop ever quicker towards the horizon – arranging and rearranging the boughs around Arthur’s chamber, hanging them from the ceiling beams, tying them to the bedposts and spreading them in an array across the mantle of the fireplace and along the windowsills.
And whatever he did it looked a bit… pathetic
Finally, in exasperation, Merlin hurled one of the heavy spruce branches across the room where it came to rest up against the far wall. He glared at it.
Reaching deep into his memory for something from his book, he stretched out his hands and began to murmur the spell.
grow fast, grow tall he whispered grow greener, brighter, more beautiful
Nothing happened. Which was hardly a surprise.
He tried again, this time extending his hand towards the holly and ivy on the mantelpiece. Again nothing.
He sat down on the bed with a sigh and closed his eyes in despair. Why had he ever thought he could do this? Everything he touched became a mess.
grow fast, grow tall, grow greener, brighter, more beautiful
grow FASTER, grow TALLER, grow green and bright and BEAUTIFUL
He muttered the words to himself, over and over, trying to put as much of his frustration into the spells as possible.
Then he opened his eyes.
*
Arthur and his knights returned just as the sun was brushing the darkening hills. There was a cheering cluster of servants and ladies to greet them, to gather them up and usher them into the halls.
Arthur noticed that Merlin wasn’t there.
But he could hardly slip away to discover the whereabouts of his errant manservant.
Instead he joined the chaotic group who pushed and pulled, tugged and hauled and finally got the giant log into the main hall, where Uther was waiting, with Gaius and Morgana.
The king strode forward, once the log had been rolled into place, and the crowd parted to let him through. He walked back and forth, examining their prize. Then he turned to Arthur and dipped his head in salute.
“A beautiful choice, my son,” he said with a hint of a smile. “Now, if someone could fetch me a taper…”
A serving boy ran forward with a lit torch and Uther handed it to Arthur. “The sun has set,” he declared. “Would you do the honours?”
Arthur bent and touched the torch to the tangle of rushes and twigs they’d set around the log and soon they were crackling merrily, the long, golden flames reaching up to lick at the log itself. Soon it too would be burning.
It was time for the feast.
*
Arthur hurried along the corridor, already shedding his brown jacket with the dirtied sleeves. His door opened as he approached it and Merlin’s worried head poked out.
“Ah, Sire,” he said, remaining mostly inside the room. “Um, you probably shouldn’t come in.”
“Not come in?” Arthur repeated bemused. “That is my bedchamber, Merlin. My chamber, in which I am intending to change my clothes in order to return to the Midwinter feast. You do remember that it’s Midwinter, don’t you? You weren’t at the log lighting and sometimes I do wonder whether you pay any attention at all… Merlin, why aren’t you opening the door?”
“Um,” Merlin replied, eloquently. “I may have had a problem…”
“If you’ve done something to my red coat…”
“No! The coat is fine. It’s more that the room… Well… I guess you’d better come in and see.” He opened the door and stepped back.
Arthur hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door aside and strode in.
He came to a dead, amazed stop, and let the door fall shut behind him.
“Merlin?” he asked, ever so quietly, “Why is there a tree in my bedchamber?”
*
The spell had worked well. All around the chamber the greenery Merlin had collected had woken and grown, twining itself around the furniture and blossoming outwards to stretch across the floor, up the walls and along the surfaces
The branch that Merlin had thrown against the wall was most splendid of all – it had grown itself into a majestic fir, the tips of its topmost branches brushing the ceiling.
And everything was shimmering slightly with a sheen of sparkling silver.
“What…?” Arthur began, astonished.
Merlin began to talk quickly, too quickly, defensively. He told Arthur that Morgana had described their childhood rooms…
…”nothing like this, though,” Arthur interrupted, poking at the shining branches of the tree…
…and he explained that he’d wanted to do something personal for Arthur as a gift, to thank him for everything…
…”For ordering you around?” Arthur asked with a grin, running his hand across the windowsill and admiring the way the holly berries contrasted with the silvered leaves…
…and he made up some babble about Gaius and herbs and experiments and decorative metals and…
…”It’s beautiful,” Arthur commented, looking at the way the light from the candles reflected from the tree and made it look like it was shimmering glass…
…and Merlin concluded with an entirely fabricated invention from Eire about bringing trees indoors and leaving them upright instead of burning them. For luck. And to celebrate life on the darkest day. And green things. It was called a Midwinter… Tree he declared.
But he didn’t think Arthur was even listening any more.
The prince turned back to look at his servant, and he was smiling in a way that Merlin had never seen before, full of admiration and pleasure and something else. Something predatory.
“Merlin,” Arthur murmured, standing very close to him. “Sometimes you amaze me.”
For a moment they just stared at each other, then Arthur leaned forward, his breath gusting across Merlin’s cheek…
…and then Arthur was reaching past him to pull his red coat from where Merlin had hung it ready on the back of the chair. “It’s time to go to the feast,” he said, his eyes still on Merlin’s. “Are you coming?”
“Yyyes,” Merlin stuttered. “Of course.”
And then Arthur was out the door and Merlin was left stunned, wondering what had just happened.
*
By the time they entered the great hall the log in the fire was crackling merrily, the flames licking ever higher, casting fluid shadows on the walls. Arthur nodded to Merlin, a hand on his lower back pushing him in the direction of one of the tables. Merlin saw Gwen, greeted her with a wave, and clambered onto the bench to sit beside her.
Across the hall, Arthur took his seat beside the king. Morgana looked at him quizzically. Arthur smiled amicably back.
“So,” Gwen whispered in Merlin’s ear, barely audible over the raucous noise in the hall, “did he like his gift?”
Merlin looked up at Arthur who was helping himself to a flagon of wine – Merlin not being there to serve him – and he shrugged. “I think so,” he replied, tipping his head close to Gwen’s. “It was hard to tell.”
When he looked back at Arthur the prince was looking at him with a slight frown on his face. Merlin grinned at him. After a moment Arthur smiled back.
The food was rich and plentiful, meats from the hunt, grains from the stores. There were wild berries and cultivated fruits, nut-studded cheeses and fresh fish. Merlin tried not to compare it with the fair in Ealdor. He’d always thought they’d eaten like kings at Midwinter.
He obviously hadn’t known what kings ate.
They moved the tables for dancing at the point at which Merlin was so stuffed full of good food that he could barely move. He staggered back to lean against the wall and groaned, clutching his stomach.
“Very fetching,” came a familiar dry voice from behind him. “You really should learn some restraint.”
“Arthur,” Merlin groaned.
The prince smirked at him, then turned and bowed low to Gwen.
“Guinevere,” he addressed her, and Merlin saw her turn pink. “Would you do me the honour of this dance?”
She blinked in astonishment, then curtseyed prettily. “I’d be honoured, your highness.”
He led her away by the hand into the growing throng of dancers, nobles and servants alike, equal for this one night of the year.
“So, are you going to ask me?” murmured Morgana in his ear.
“Um, honestly, no I wasn’t,” Merlin replied before thinking. “Uh, that is… I mean…”
But Morgana was laughing and Merlin laughed too, before apologising again. She brushed a finger against his cheek. “I can see why he likes you,” she said, before moving elegantly away.
He saw her later dancing with one of Arthur’s knights. She winked at him as she swept past.
There was mead in Merlin’s cup, and it coiled through him warm and satisfying. Around him there were people laughing happily and dancing. Even the king had a smile on his face where he lounged on the throne, fingers of one hand tapping in time to the music.
Two of the stablehands and one of the kitchen boys had started singing along to the music, using words that Merlin suspected were a coarser version than the standard lyrics. Soon others joined in, and they began clapping along, the speed of the rhythm increasing and the dancers whirling ever faster to keep time. They were red faced and laughing now, some stumbling, and Merlin saw Arthur catch Gwen’s hand to keep her upright. Her hair was coming loose from its pins and her eyes were shining with amusement.
Then the song came to an end and the dancers paused to catch their breath before another tune began.
Gwen wended her way through the crowds back to Merlin. “You should dance,” she said, teasingly. “It’s fun.”
Merlin grinned. “I have two left feet,” he pointed out.
Gwen hid her grin behind her hand and whispered, “So does Arthur.”
*
As the night progressed the drinking and dancing continued. Merlin found himself a spot on a high settle by the fire and curled up with his cup of mead, warm and cozy and full of good food. He wasn’t asleep, exactly, but he wasn’t really very awake either. The music was coiling around him like smoke and he could hear a bard on the other side of the fire starting an epic tale. Merlin would have liked to listen, but it did seem a lot of effort…
He tried to sit up more when Arthur came over and sat down beside him, sprawled with his leg up on the side carelessly, his body draped artlessly against the wooden back. “So,” he said, taking a gulp from his own goblet, “are you having a good time? You didn’t dance.”
Merlin murmured the affirmative, “…not very good at dancing…”
Arthur laughed, but with fondness not mockery. “You going to stay awake to see the dawn?” he asked.
“How about you wake me?” Merlin suggested.
Arthur probably answered, but Merlin was too close to asleep to notice.
*
Some hours later Morgana extricated herself from a conversation with an overly drunk and overly friendly nobleman and went to find Gwen.
“Have you seen Merlin and Arthur?” her maid asked with a smile, inclining her head in the direction of the fireplace where the giant log was still burning with a slow, warm glow.
Morgana looked at her curiously, then followed Gwen over.
Arthur was sprawled in his usual fashion across one of the high wooden settles, one food braced against the arm, the other fallen to rest on the floor. His head was tipped back, his mouth open, his eyes closed.
Merlin was leaning against him, his knees tucked up to his chest, his head on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur’s favourite red coat was draped across him like a blanket.
Morgana felt her heart melt just a little.
Then, with an inelegant grunt, Arthur’s eyes flickered open. “What?” he said loudly, trying to sit up. Immediately they both hushed him and indicated his sleeping manservant.
Arthur looked at Merlin and for a moment Morgana thought that he’d deliberately push him away and wake him, then Arthur shrugged slightly and settled back down, draping his arm across Merlin’s shoulders to hold him secure.
“What time is it?” he asked in a whisper.
Morgana shrugged and looked briefly at Gwen. “About two hours until dawn,” Gwen supplied. The dancing had mostly stopped, although a few couples were still swaying gently in the centre of the room. The bard had stopped telling stories and had moved instead to music, his wizened hands plucking gently at the strings of a harp.
“Can you get me a drink of something with no alcohol?” Morgana asked Gwen, and the maid hurried away. Morgana batted at Arthur’s foot until he moved it and made room for her to sit beside him.
“Did you like Merlin’s gift?” she asked.
Arthur grinned. “You should see it. He’s turned my room into a forest, practically. It’s all silvery and impressive. I don’t know how he did it.”
“I don’t either,” Morgana replied, looking at Merlin sharply. He remained peacefully oblivious.
“So,” Morgana continued, in a voice Arthur recognised well as interfering. “Have you given Merlin his gift?”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I have a gift for Merlin?”
Morgana rolled her eyes. “You value him a lot, even if you won’t tell him that. I’m sure you’ve thought of a gift for him.”
Arthur frowned. “Actually I haven’t. Well, I have. I was going to give him a book about medicinal herbs for helping Gaius. But now that seems somehow…”
“Inappropriate?” Morgana supplied, pointedly.
“Yes,” Arthur sighed. “I mean, what on earth made Merlin so something so extravagant?”
“I have no idea,” Morgana lied quietly.
“What am I going to do?” Arthur asked.
“Give him something else,” Morgana suggested, with an impish smile.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Any ideas? Something he likes? Something that reminds him of home?”
“You know him better than I do,” Morgana pointed out.
Arthur frowned, “I don’t know anything he wants,” he said. “He’s never asked for anything.”
Morgana’s smile softened. She leaned over and whispered in Arthur’s ear.
When she sat back, her expression smug as a cat, Arthur looked at her in surprise. “You are a meddling little…” he began, then stopped speaking as Gwen returned with Morgana’s drink.
Morgana smirked at him then rose to leave. Over her shoulder she saw Arthur settle Merlin more comfortably against him, wrapping his second arm around Merlin’s waist to hold him secure.
*
“Wake up,” came a voice, into Merlin’s dreams. “Merlin. Oi, Merlin.”
He opened bleary eyes and tried to focus on Arthur’s face, which was much too close to him. “I’m awake,” he said, blinking.
“It’s nearly dawn,” Arthur told him. “We’re going outside.”
Merlin rubbed his eyes and sat up, rolling his shoulders to get the feeling back into them. In the great fireplace the log was smouldering, still giving out heat. Outside, Merlin knew, it was below freezing. This was often his least favourite part of the festival.
The great hall was emptying, but Morgana and Gwen were waiting for them, cloaks wrapped tight up to their chins, the fur collars soft against their cheeks. Merlin pulled on his own wool coat and made for the door.
“Wait,” Gwen called softly, catching his arm as he passed.
Morgana was leaning against the door, smiling at him when Merlin turned. “Have you missed something?” she asked. “About Midwinter?”
Merlin frowned, confused and only partly awake.
“You slept through the darkest hour,” Morgana reminded him. “We missed our kisses.”
Merlin turned bright red. He leaned forward fast and placed a peck on her smooth cheek. She caught his shoulder and returned the good wishes, her lips warm on his skin.
Then he kissed Gwen, who was red and giggling, and pressed her lips too hard against his face.
“Okay, then, let’s go,”
“Um, did you miss someone?” Arthur asked. “Don’t I get your blessing for the New Year?”
Merlin looked at him flatly. Arthur looked back. “Or course, sire,” Merlin said eventually, and took the three steps back into the hall to where Arthur was standing.
He leaned forward to brush his lips against Arthur’s cheek and Arthur turned his head.
Merlin’s lips touched Arthur’s.
For a breathless moment neither of them moved, their Arthur exhaled slightly, almost a laugh, and his warm lips moved against Merlin’s.
When Merlin pulled back, Arthur was grinning at him. “Happy Midwinter,” he said, his eyebrows dancing.
Merlin couldn’t help but grin back although his insides had turned to mush and he wasn’t at all sure that he was actually awake. It seemed oddly… sweet… of Arthur to be looking at him like that and Merlin wasn’t at all sure that he was comfortable.
“We should, um,” he said. “Before the sun comes up.”
“We should,” Arthur agreed, indicating the door. “After you.”
Morgana and Gwen were waiting in the corridor as they left the hall. Morgana’s hand tucked under Merlin’s arm, and when he turned to look at her, she smiled at him.
“This is your fault, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Stop complaining,” she teased, and pinched his arm.
*
Their breath froze as they exhaled and hung in clouds of smoky vapour around them. The snow on the balcony was crunchy, the top newly frozen. Around them men and women and children stood in silence, pressed together for warmth, all of them facing east.
There was a glow from beyond the hillside, a pale resonance that lit up the sky from beneath and Merlin found himself almost holding his breath as the first true rays of sunlight began to peak over the horizon.
Even in his gloves his hands were almost numb with cold and he swung them back and forth at his sides, wriggling his fingers to keep the blood flowing.
“Oh, stand still,” Arthur grumbled in his ear. “You always have to fidget.”
Merlin pouted at him, but then, before he could speak, the sun broke over the hillside, and everyone cheered, and the New Year was born, and Arthur’s fingers were twined through his own.
Arthur had pulled his frosty scarf up so far that it covered his mouth and nose and when Merlin turned to look at him all he could see were Arthur’s eyes, but he could feel the smile.
“Don’t go back to Gaius’s,” Arthur said.
Merlin looked over at where Gaius stood, head bent in discussion with the king. His mentor looked up, looked across at Merlin as if he’d heard Arthur whisper his name. Then he inclined his head. It might have been Happy Midwinter, Merlin supposed.
Then again, he might have seen their joined hands.
“Okay,” he replied to Arthur.
*
Arthur’s room was warm when they got there, unpeeling their cloaks and furs, shucking off their gloves and unwinding their scarves. The trees were there still as well, lit up now by the daylight coming through the window.
“How did you do this?” Arthur asked.
“It’s a secret,” Merlin replied. “But I’ll tell you someday.”
Merlin had left the fire banked down when they’d gone to the feast and the embers were still warm, glowing faintly beneath the black charcoal, filling the room with heat.
Or maybe it was just the way Arthur was looking at him.
“Here, sit by the fire,” Arthur urged. “You’re shivering.”
Merlin shook his head. He wasn’t cold at all, but he couldn’t stop trembling.
Arthur was standing really close to him now and he wasn’t sure how to behave, couldn’t really believe this was happening. He just stared at Arthur’s mouth and tried not to remember how those lips had felt.
“I haven’t give you my gift yet,” Arthur commented and Merlin watched his mouth shape the words.
When Merlin didn’t reply, Arthur poked the end of his nose gently. “This is important, are you listening?”
Merlin nodded, looking up to Arthur’s eyes.
“Well, then,” Arthur murmured. “Morgana seems to think that I’ve got something you’d like.” He was standing really close to Merlin now, and Merlin could feel the heat from his body radiating even more intensely than that from the fire, as if there were flames rising from Arthur’s hands and licking at his skin where they hovered inches apart.
“Merlin,” Arthur said again, with fading patience. “You aren’t listening at all.”
Merlin tried to argue that he was, but just as he opened his mouth Arthur gave an irritated huff, slid his hand around the back of Merlin’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.
The movement was so fast that Merlin stumbled, his hands flying out to brace himself against Arthur’s chest. And then Arthur tilted his head, and his lips slid against Merlin’s and Merlin clutched at the fabric of Arthur’s shirt and kissed him back. His knees felt wobbly and his hands were shaking and none of it mattered at all, nothing mattered but the firm press of Arthur’s lips, Arthur’s hands holding him still, Arthur’s cheek pressing against his nose.
And then Arthur exhaled and the air tickled Merlin, and Arthur’s lips parted, press…slide…press against Merlin’s and then the tip of his tongue brushed into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin gasped slightly in surprise, which Arthur took as permission, pulling Merlin closer and deepening the kiss until Merlin felt dizzy and had to pull away to breathe.
Arthur’s hand on his waist slid around his back, holding him steady. “Are you warmer now?” Arthur asked softly, and his voice came out hoarse. Merlin nodded, unable to speak, then tipped his face up for another kiss.
*
When they woke, late into the afternoon, the blankets coiled around them where they lay in a tangled heap in Arthur’s bed, Merlin said, “You never gave me my gift.”
Arthur frowned at him, then pressed a kiss to his neck to show he wasn’t really annoyed. He ran his hand down Merlin’s side, warm and soft and possessive.
“What, did you want it wrapped?”
FIN
merlin_the_elf I couldn't admit it was mine until the reveal. (original posting)For
fortassetuTitle: Midwinter
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: approx 5500
Summary: Merlin needs a Midwinter gift for Arthur. Arthur needs a Midwinter gift for Merlin.
Many thanks to
eldanna for reminding me that writing fluffy fics at Christmas is completely acceptable :PWinter was drawing in and the nights were shortening. Snow had fallen and the courtyards of Camelot were swamps of muddy slush from soldiers’ boots. The rooftops, though, when Merlin looked out of his window, were vast untrodden hillocks of white.
In Merlin’s village Midwinter was celebrated by a giant feast. Everyone congregated and decorated one of the longhouses with greenery and lanterns. A giant fire was built in the stone fireplace and the villagers gathered around it, singing, dancing and telling stories through the longest night of the year. They brought gifts of food, everyone contributing something, and sharing what they had to last them through the long cold until the spring came around again. They hung mistletoe from the beams overhead and at the darkest hour they passed among each other, exchanging kisses and blessings. And then everyone tramped out into the snow to stand together in the cold and watch the midwinter dawn rise over the tree-covered hills.
It was the first year that Merlin wouldn’t be there amongst his friends, sharing their food and their company. He’d thought about returning, briefly, before dismissing the idea. It was not good weather for travelling. And he wanted to experience the midwinter celebrations in Camelot.
He was not prepared, however, for the ways in which Camelot celebrated differently.
*
“What do you mean?” Merlin asked, horrified, looking from Gwen to Morgana and then back again.
The women exchanged a glance. “Is it not customary where you grew up?” Gwen asked, tentatively. “How did you show your appreciation to the people you care about?”
“We…” Merlin waved his hands around, grasping for words. “We didn’t have a lot of stuff. People weren’t wealthy. We had a feast and everyone contributed food.”
Morgana and Gwen exchanged another glance and they smiled softly. “We do that here, too,” Morgana assured him. “But the crown holds the feast for all the nobility and the servants. Everyone together for one night of the year. The servants aren’t expected to contribute any more than on a normal night. And they get to eat and dance alongside the knights and ladies.”
Merlin looked even more horrified. “Dance?” he stuttered.
“Don’t worry,” Morgana said, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “Nobody will force you to dance.”
Gwen looked briefly disappointed, but she shook her head in agreement with her mistress. “It’s for fun, Merlin,” she said. “Everyone together to fill the longest night of the year. They have a giant log that burns in the fireplace, and people tell stories and sing songs…”
“…and exchange gifts,” Merlin finished for her, staring again at the scabbard on Morgana’s dressing table. “What on earth am I going to do?”
Morgana ran her fingers along the finely wrought metalwork. It had clearly taken Gwen’s father months of work and the women had been keen to show it to Merlin when he stopped by with some sleeping draughts for Morgana.
“It’s Morgana’s Midwinter gift for Arthur,” Gwen had told Merlin proudly. “My father made it.”
“Don’t worry,” Gwen told him now as he stood staring in horror at his hands. “You only need a few gifts for those people closest to you. Gaius, of course, and Arthur.”
Merlin bit his lip, worriedly. “What about you?” he asked bluntly.
Gwen blushed and looked away. “No, Merlin,” she said softly. “There is no need for you to give me anything.”
Merlin groaned and put his head in his hands. “Is this another complicated etiquette thing that I’m never going to understand?” he asked, his voice muffled.
“Yes,’ Morgana replied with more than the hint of a smile, and she slid her white hand through his arm and guided him over to stand by the window, looking out across the snow. “But luckily for you, you have me to guide you through it.”
Behind them Merlin could hear Gwen beginning to clear up to room. “Now,” Morgana began, “Gifts are primarily for family. For you I would consider getting something for Gaius. He’ll be flattered because it intimates that you see him as a father.” She raised her hand to prevent it when Merlin began to speak. “You owe Gaius a lot,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “And, conveniently for you, I happen to know that he would like some star-spliced sage. His eyes are not good enough to prepare it now, although you know he’d be horrified to have to admit it. Perhaps you could gather and prepare some?”
Merlin looked at her in awe. “How do you…”
She looked at him flatly. “Merlin, I make it my business to know everything here. It’s the only way to avoid the boredom of stitching and socialising and maintaining decorum.” She grinned, briefly, a flash of genuine emotion before her expression was schooled again. “And the purpose of a Midwinter gift is to show that you have thought of that person and that you appreciate them. Yes, at court it is often an excuse for expense and flamboyance, but that is not necessary. Give Gaius something that shows how you value him and he will be more than pleased.”
Merlin ducked his head in thanks and made as if to move away. Morgana’s fingernails dug into his arm. She didn’t turn to look at him, but continued to gaze out over the snowy rooftops serenely.
“There are three other occasions when one gives gifts,” she continued. “When courting, or to a childhood or lifelong friend, or to someone to whom you feel you owe an expression of gratitude.”
Merlin gave her a look of pure despair.
Her mouth softened into a smile. “Don’t raise Gwen’s hopes with a gift,” she said softly, so that her maid would not hear. “I suspect you do not wish to encourage her attentions.”
Merlin turned bright red. Morgana’s gaze was piercing, but her smile seemed satisfied.
“Now,” she said briskly, “since you have no old, childhood friends here, then you are clear out of that one. Which leaves Arthur. He has saved you and you have saved him. Your lives are intrinsically connected, not to mention the fact that it would probably be rude to ignore him. Arthur doesn’t like being ignored.”
Her voice was louder now, and Gwen was closer. Merlin heard his friend laugh. He smiled too, because Morgana’s words were true. And yet how on earth would he find a suitable present for Arthur? The scabbard Morgana had for him was beautiful, exquisite and entirely the right kind of gift for the crown prince. What on earth could he give that was even on the same scale?
Then another horror struck him. “Will Arthur have a gift for me?” he blurted out. Because a gift from Arthur that was vastly superior to his gift in return…
Morgana’s expression darkened. “Yes,” she said decisively. “I have no doubt Arthur has a gift for you. What it is, however, eludes me.” She looked thoroughly fed up at the admission.
“So what am I going to do?” Merlin almost wailed, looking frantically across the room to Gwen for help, then back to Morgana. “I don’t have anything I could give Arthur! Where to I even begin to go about…”
Morgana pressed a finger to his lips.
“What did I tell you just a moment ago? It is not about the value of a gift, but about the thought that went into it.”
Well that didn’t help at all.
“Servants don’t give their masters expensive things,” Gwen clarified. “It isn’t expected.”
“Gwen gave me these beautiful hairpins,” Morgana said, lifting them from a box on her dresser. “She embroidered these flowers herself.” Merlin admired them dutifully.
“So what, I should embroider something decorative on one of Arthur’s shirts?” he asked sceptically.
They both laughed softly. “Do you have that skill?” Morgana asked, curiously.
Merlin shook his head. “I don’t have any… skills,” he said, with a slight hesitation. He wondered if there were something he could create with magic without it being obviously enchanted…
“What do you normally do for Arthur?” Gwen asked. “You run errands, do his laundry, clean his room…”
An expression Merlin didn’t recognise flitted across Morgana’s face. “When Arthur and I were children,” she spoke softly. “Uther used to decorate our rooms with greenery for Midwinter. He’d tie evergreen boughs to the rafters and twine leaves across the windowsills to remind us that it wouldn’t be white and grey and cold forever, and that under the snow there is still green.”
She stopped speaking and looked at Merlin, waiting for him to make the connection.
“You think I should decorate Arthur’s room?” he asked.
She shrugged elegantly. “It would be an extension of your normal duties. It wouldn’t cost you anything more than time. And it would show that you had thought of something appropriate for Arthur…”
Merlin nodded. “Thank you, thanks a lot,” he said, turning to leave. He paused at the door and spun back. “Any particular kind of evergreen?”
Morgana shook her head. “Anything you can find. Fur, spruce, holly, ivy…”
“Thanks,” he said again, and let the door bang closed behind him.
Gwen stood and looked at Morgana. “What?” Morgana asked innocently.
“You don’t think having Merlin decorate Arthur’s room the way he liked it as a boy is a little bit sentimental?” she asked. “You don’t think Arthur will consider it sentimental?”
Morgana smiled and tapped the tips of her fingers together. “Oh, I hope so,” she replied.
*
The day before the longest night was a busy day in Camelot. Arthur had a group of his knights out to cut down and haul back the great trunk of a tree which would then be installed in the fireplace in the great hall and lit when the sun went down.
Merlin watched them ride away, laughing and joking, their cheeks ruddy from the cold, the snow flurries catching in their hair. Arthur, among them, was at his brightest, full of joy. Merlin couldn’t help smiling as he watched, keeping himself hidden so that the prince wouldn’t call upon him with some last minute task.
He had plans for himself today.
He’d spent three days furtively preparing Gaius’s sage whenever the physician was away and finally that was ready, tied in a pretty bundle with a ribbon Gwen had procured for him. Now it was time to prepare Arthur’s gift.
He made his way into the woods in the opposite direction from the log-hauling party, keeping to the shadows and trying not to attract attention. If challenged he could say he was gathering something for Gaius, but it was easier not to be seen at all.
He selected the best branches – his eyes glowing gold as he chose some out of his reach – cutting some fresh and green with his knife, gathering up others from where they had already fallen. He’d brought along a sack, and he stuffed the greenery into it, slinging it over his shoulder to carry. The holly looked particularly attractive, with its bright berries, but he soon found that gathering it cut and prickled his hands and there was no way to get it to lie flat in the sack.
It took him under an hour to gather a full bag and he hauled it back up the hill to the castle, hoping that it would be enough.
It clearly wasn’t.
He spent much of the afternoon – carefully watching the sun traverse the sky and drop ever quicker towards the horizon – arranging and rearranging the boughs around Arthur’s chamber, hanging them from the ceiling beams, tying them to the bedposts and spreading them in an array across the mantle of the fireplace and along the windowsills.
And whatever he did it looked a bit… pathetic
Finally, in exasperation, Merlin hurled one of the heavy spruce branches across the room where it came to rest up against the far wall. He glared at it.
Reaching deep into his memory for something from his book, he stretched out his hands and began to murmur the spell.
grow fast, grow tall he whispered grow greener, brighter, more beautiful
Nothing happened. Which was hardly a surprise.
He tried again, this time extending his hand towards the holly and ivy on the mantelpiece. Again nothing.
He sat down on the bed with a sigh and closed his eyes in despair. Why had he ever thought he could do this? Everything he touched became a mess.
grow fast, grow tall, grow greener, brighter, more beautiful
grow FASTER, grow TALLER, grow green and bright and BEAUTIFUL
He muttered the words to himself, over and over, trying to put as much of his frustration into the spells as possible.
Then he opened his eyes.
*
Arthur and his knights returned just as the sun was brushing the darkening hills. There was a cheering cluster of servants and ladies to greet them, to gather them up and usher them into the halls.
Arthur noticed that Merlin wasn’t there.
But he could hardly slip away to discover the whereabouts of his errant manservant.
Instead he joined the chaotic group who pushed and pulled, tugged and hauled and finally got the giant log into the main hall, where Uther was waiting, with Gaius and Morgana.
The king strode forward, once the log had been rolled into place, and the crowd parted to let him through. He walked back and forth, examining their prize. Then he turned to Arthur and dipped his head in salute.
“A beautiful choice, my son,” he said with a hint of a smile. “Now, if someone could fetch me a taper…”
A serving boy ran forward with a lit torch and Uther handed it to Arthur. “The sun has set,” he declared. “Would you do the honours?”
Arthur bent and touched the torch to the tangle of rushes and twigs they’d set around the log and soon they were crackling merrily, the long, golden flames reaching up to lick at the log itself. Soon it too would be burning.
It was time for the feast.
*
Arthur hurried along the corridor, already shedding his brown jacket with the dirtied sleeves. His door opened as he approached it and Merlin’s worried head poked out.
“Ah, Sire,” he said, remaining mostly inside the room. “Um, you probably shouldn’t come in.”
“Not come in?” Arthur repeated bemused. “That is my bedchamber, Merlin. My chamber, in which I am intending to change my clothes in order to return to the Midwinter feast. You do remember that it’s Midwinter, don’t you? You weren’t at the log lighting and sometimes I do wonder whether you pay any attention at all… Merlin, why aren’t you opening the door?”
“Um,” Merlin replied, eloquently. “I may have had a problem…”
“If you’ve done something to my red coat…”
“No! The coat is fine. It’s more that the room… Well… I guess you’d better come in and see.” He opened the door and stepped back.
Arthur hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door aside and strode in.
He came to a dead, amazed stop, and let the door fall shut behind him.
“Merlin?” he asked, ever so quietly, “Why is there a tree in my bedchamber?”
*
The spell had worked well. All around the chamber the greenery Merlin had collected had woken and grown, twining itself around the furniture and blossoming outwards to stretch across the floor, up the walls and along the surfaces
The branch that Merlin had thrown against the wall was most splendid of all – it had grown itself into a majestic fir, the tips of its topmost branches brushing the ceiling.
And everything was shimmering slightly with a sheen of sparkling silver.
“What…?” Arthur began, astonished.
Merlin began to talk quickly, too quickly, defensively. He told Arthur that Morgana had described their childhood rooms…
…”nothing like this, though,” Arthur interrupted, poking at the shining branches of the tree…
…and he explained that he’d wanted to do something personal for Arthur as a gift, to thank him for everything…
…”For ordering you around?” Arthur asked with a grin, running his hand across the windowsill and admiring the way the holly berries contrasted with the silvered leaves…
…and he made up some babble about Gaius and herbs and experiments and decorative metals and…
…”It’s beautiful,” Arthur commented, looking at the way the light from the candles reflected from the tree and made it look like it was shimmering glass…
…and Merlin concluded with an entirely fabricated invention from Eire about bringing trees indoors and leaving them upright instead of burning them. For luck. And to celebrate life on the darkest day. And green things. It was called a Midwinter… Tree he declared.
But he didn’t think Arthur was even listening any more.
The prince turned back to look at his servant, and he was smiling in a way that Merlin had never seen before, full of admiration and pleasure and something else. Something predatory.
“Merlin,” Arthur murmured, standing very close to him. “Sometimes you amaze me.”
For a moment they just stared at each other, then Arthur leaned forward, his breath gusting across Merlin’s cheek…
…and then Arthur was reaching past him to pull his red coat from where Merlin had hung it ready on the back of the chair. “It’s time to go to the feast,” he said, his eyes still on Merlin’s. “Are you coming?”
“Yyyes,” Merlin stuttered. “Of course.”
And then Arthur was out the door and Merlin was left stunned, wondering what had just happened.
*
By the time they entered the great hall the log in the fire was crackling merrily, the flames licking ever higher, casting fluid shadows on the walls. Arthur nodded to Merlin, a hand on his lower back pushing him in the direction of one of the tables. Merlin saw Gwen, greeted her with a wave, and clambered onto the bench to sit beside her.
Across the hall, Arthur took his seat beside the king. Morgana looked at him quizzically. Arthur smiled amicably back.
“So,” Gwen whispered in Merlin’s ear, barely audible over the raucous noise in the hall, “did he like his gift?”
Merlin looked up at Arthur who was helping himself to a flagon of wine – Merlin not being there to serve him – and he shrugged. “I think so,” he replied, tipping his head close to Gwen’s. “It was hard to tell.”
When he looked back at Arthur the prince was looking at him with a slight frown on his face. Merlin grinned at him. After a moment Arthur smiled back.
The food was rich and plentiful, meats from the hunt, grains from the stores. There were wild berries and cultivated fruits, nut-studded cheeses and fresh fish. Merlin tried not to compare it with the fair in Ealdor. He’d always thought they’d eaten like kings at Midwinter.
He obviously hadn’t known what kings ate.
They moved the tables for dancing at the point at which Merlin was so stuffed full of good food that he could barely move. He staggered back to lean against the wall and groaned, clutching his stomach.
“Very fetching,” came a familiar dry voice from behind him. “You really should learn some restraint.”
“Arthur,” Merlin groaned.
The prince smirked at him, then turned and bowed low to Gwen.
“Guinevere,” he addressed her, and Merlin saw her turn pink. “Would you do me the honour of this dance?”
She blinked in astonishment, then curtseyed prettily. “I’d be honoured, your highness.”
He led her away by the hand into the growing throng of dancers, nobles and servants alike, equal for this one night of the year.
“So, are you going to ask me?” murmured Morgana in his ear.
“Um, honestly, no I wasn’t,” Merlin replied before thinking. “Uh, that is… I mean…”
But Morgana was laughing and Merlin laughed too, before apologising again. She brushed a finger against his cheek. “I can see why he likes you,” she said, before moving elegantly away.
He saw her later dancing with one of Arthur’s knights. She winked at him as she swept past.
There was mead in Merlin’s cup, and it coiled through him warm and satisfying. Around him there were people laughing happily and dancing. Even the king had a smile on his face where he lounged on the throne, fingers of one hand tapping in time to the music.
Two of the stablehands and one of the kitchen boys had started singing along to the music, using words that Merlin suspected were a coarser version than the standard lyrics. Soon others joined in, and they began clapping along, the speed of the rhythm increasing and the dancers whirling ever faster to keep time. They were red faced and laughing now, some stumbling, and Merlin saw Arthur catch Gwen’s hand to keep her upright. Her hair was coming loose from its pins and her eyes were shining with amusement.
Then the song came to an end and the dancers paused to catch their breath before another tune began.
Gwen wended her way through the crowds back to Merlin. “You should dance,” she said, teasingly. “It’s fun.”
Merlin grinned. “I have two left feet,” he pointed out.
Gwen hid her grin behind her hand and whispered, “So does Arthur.”
*
As the night progressed the drinking and dancing continued. Merlin found himself a spot on a high settle by the fire and curled up with his cup of mead, warm and cozy and full of good food. He wasn’t asleep, exactly, but he wasn’t really very awake either. The music was coiling around him like smoke and he could hear a bard on the other side of the fire starting an epic tale. Merlin would have liked to listen, but it did seem a lot of effort…
He tried to sit up more when Arthur came over and sat down beside him, sprawled with his leg up on the side carelessly, his body draped artlessly against the wooden back. “So,” he said, taking a gulp from his own goblet, “are you having a good time? You didn’t dance.”
Merlin murmured the affirmative, “…not very good at dancing…”
Arthur laughed, but with fondness not mockery. “You going to stay awake to see the dawn?” he asked.
“How about you wake me?” Merlin suggested.
Arthur probably answered, but Merlin was too close to asleep to notice.
*
Some hours later Morgana extricated herself from a conversation with an overly drunk and overly friendly nobleman and went to find Gwen.
“Have you seen Merlin and Arthur?” her maid asked with a smile, inclining her head in the direction of the fireplace where the giant log was still burning with a slow, warm glow.
Morgana looked at her curiously, then followed Gwen over.
Arthur was sprawled in his usual fashion across one of the high wooden settles, one food braced against the arm, the other fallen to rest on the floor. His head was tipped back, his mouth open, his eyes closed.
Merlin was leaning against him, his knees tucked up to his chest, his head on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur’s favourite red coat was draped across him like a blanket.
Morgana felt her heart melt just a little.
Then, with an inelegant grunt, Arthur’s eyes flickered open. “What?” he said loudly, trying to sit up. Immediately they both hushed him and indicated his sleeping manservant.
Arthur looked at Merlin and for a moment Morgana thought that he’d deliberately push him away and wake him, then Arthur shrugged slightly and settled back down, draping his arm across Merlin’s shoulders to hold him secure.
“What time is it?” he asked in a whisper.
Morgana shrugged and looked briefly at Gwen. “About two hours until dawn,” Gwen supplied. The dancing had mostly stopped, although a few couples were still swaying gently in the centre of the room. The bard had stopped telling stories and had moved instead to music, his wizened hands plucking gently at the strings of a harp.
“Can you get me a drink of something with no alcohol?” Morgana asked Gwen, and the maid hurried away. Morgana batted at Arthur’s foot until he moved it and made room for her to sit beside him.
“Did you like Merlin’s gift?” she asked.
Arthur grinned. “You should see it. He’s turned my room into a forest, practically. It’s all silvery and impressive. I don’t know how he did it.”
“I don’t either,” Morgana replied, looking at Merlin sharply. He remained peacefully oblivious.
“So,” Morgana continued, in a voice Arthur recognised well as interfering. “Have you given Merlin his gift?”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I have a gift for Merlin?”
Morgana rolled her eyes. “You value him a lot, even if you won’t tell him that. I’m sure you’ve thought of a gift for him.”
Arthur frowned. “Actually I haven’t. Well, I have. I was going to give him a book about medicinal herbs for helping Gaius. But now that seems somehow…”
“Inappropriate?” Morgana supplied, pointedly.
“Yes,” Arthur sighed. “I mean, what on earth made Merlin so something so extravagant?”
“I have no idea,” Morgana lied quietly.
“What am I going to do?” Arthur asked.
“Give him something else,” Morgana suggested, with an impish smile.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Any ideas? Something he likes? Something that reminds him of home?”
“You know him better than I do,” Morgana pointed out.
Arthur frowned, “I don’t know anything he wants,” he said. “He’s never asked for anything.”
Morgana’s smile softened. She leaned over and whispered in Arthur’s ear.
When she sat back, her expression smug as a cat, Arthur looked at her in surprise. “You are a meddling little…” he began, then stopped speaking as Gwen returned with Morgana’s drink.
Morgana smirked at him then rose to leave. Over her shoulder she saw Arthur settle Merlin more comfortably against him, wrapping his second arm around Merlin’s waist to hold him secure.
*
“Wake up,” came a voice, into Merlin’s dreams. “Merlin. Oi, Merlin.”
He opened bleary eyes and tried to focus on Arthur’s face, which was much too close to him. “I’m awake,” he said, blinking.
“It’s nearly dawn,” Arthur told him. “We’re going outside.”
Merlin rubbed his eyes and sat up, rolling his shoulders to get the feeling back into them. In the great fireplace the log was smouldering, still giving out heat. Outside, Merlin knew, it was below freezing. This was often his least favourite part of the festival.
The great hall was emptying, but Morgana and Gwen were waiting for them, cloaks wrapped tight up to their chins, the fur collars soft against their cheeks. Merlin pulled on his own wool coat and made for the door.
“Wait,” Gwen called softly, catching his arm as he passed.
Morgana was leaning against the door, smiling at him when Merlin turned. “Have you missed something?” she asked. “About Midwinter?”
Merlin frowned, confused and only partly awake.
“You slept through the darkest hour,” Morgana reminded him. “We missed our kisses.”
Merlin turned bright red. He leaned forward fast and placed a peck on her smooth cheek. She caught his shoulder and returned the good wishes, her lips warm on his skin.
Then he kissed Gwen, who was red and giggling, and pressed her lips too hard against his face.
“Okay, then, let’s go,”
“Um, did you miss someone?” Arthur asked. “Don’t I get your blessing for the New Year?”
Merlin looked at him flatly. Arthur looked back. “Or course, sire,” Merlin said eventually, and took the three steps back into the hall to where Arthur was standing.
He leaned forward to brush his lips against Arthur’s cheek and Arthur turned his head.
Merlin’s lips touched Arthur’s.
For a breathless moment neither of them moved, their Arthur exhaled slightly, almost a laugh, and his warm lips moved against Merlin’s.
When Merlin pulled back, Arthur was grinning at him. “Happy Midwinter,” he said, his eyebrows dancing.
Merlin couldn’t help but grin back although his insides had turned to mush and he wasn’t at all sure that he was actually awake. It seemed oddly… sweet… of Arthur to be looking at him like that and Merlin wasn’t at all sure that he was comfortable.
“We should, um,” he said. “Before the sun comes up.”
“We should,” Arthur agreed, indicating the door. “After you.”
Morgana and Gwen were waiting in the corridor as they left the hall. Morgana’s hand tucked under Merlin’s arm, and when he turned to look at her, she smiled at him.
“This is your fault, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Stop complaining,” she teased, and pinched his arm.
*
Their breath froze as they exhaled and hung in clouds of smoky vapour around them. The snow on the balcony was crunchy, the top newly frozen. Around them men and women and children stood in silence, pressed together for warmth, all of them facing east.
There was a glow from beyond the hillside, a pale resonance that lit up the sky from beneath and Merlin found himself almost holding his breath as the first true rays of sunlight began to peak over the horizon.
Even in his gloves his hands were almost numb with cold and he swung them back and forth at his sides, wriggling his fingers to keep the blood flowing.
“Oh, stand still,” Arthur grumbled in his ear. “You always have to fidget.”
Merlin pouted at him, but then, before he could speak, the sun broke over the hillside, and everyone cheered, and the New Year was born, and Arthur’s fingers were twined through his own.
Arthur had pulled his frosty scarf up so far that it covered his mouth and nose and when Merlin turned to look at him all he could see were Arthur’s eyes, but he could feel the smile.
“Don’t go back to Gaius’s,” Arthur said.
Merlin looked over at where Gaius stood, head bent in discussion with the king. His mentor looked up, looked across at Merlin as if he’d heard Arthur whisper his name. Then he inclined his head. It might have been Happy Midwinter, Merlin supposed.
Then again, he might have seen their joined hands.
“Okay,” he replied to Arthur.
*
Arthur’s room was warm when they got there, unpeeling their cloaks and furs, shucking off their gloves and unwinding their scarves. The trees were there still as well, lit up now by the daylight coming through the window.
“How did you do this?” Arthur asked.
“It’s a secret,” Merlin replied. “But I’ll tell you someday.”
Merlin had left the fire banked down when they’d gone to the feast and the embers were still warm, glowing faintly beneath the black charcoal, filling the room with heat.
Or maybe it was just the way Arthur was looking at him.
“Here, sit by the fire,” Arthur urged. “You’re shivering.”
Merlin shook his head. He wasn’t cold at all, but he couldn’t stop trembling.
Arthur was standing really close to him now and he wasn’t sure how to behave, couldn’t really believe this was happening. He just stared at Arthur’s mouth and tried not to remember how those lips had felt.
“I haven’t give you my gift yet,” Arthur commented and Merlin watched his mouth shape the words.
When Merlin didn’t reply, Arthur poked the end of his nose gently. “This is important, are you listening?”
Merlin nodded, looking up to Arthur’s eyes.
“Well, then,” Arthur murmured. “Morgana seems to think that I’ve got something you’d like.” He was standing really close to Merlin now, and Merlin could feel the heat from his body radiating even more intensely than that from the fire, as if there were flames rising from Arthur’s hands and licking at his skin where they hovered inches apart.
“Merlin,” Arthur said again, with fading patience. “You aren’t listening at all.”
Merlin tried to argue that he was, but just as he opened his mouth Arthur gave an irritated huff, slid his hand around the back of Merlin’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.
The movement was so fast that Merlin stumbled, his hands flying out to brace himself against Arthur’s chest. And then Arthur tilted his head, and his lips slid against Merlin’s and Merlin clutched at the fabric of Arthur’s shirt and kissed him back. His knees felt wobbly and his hands were shaking and none of it mattered at all, nothing mattered but the firm press of Arthur’s lips, Arthur’s hands holding him still, Arthur’s cheek pressing against his nose.
And then Arthur exhaled and the air tickled Merlin, and Arthur’s lips parted, press…slide…press against Merlin’s and then the tip of his tongue brushed into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin gasped slightly in surprise, which Arthur took as permission, pulling Merlin closer and deepening the kiss until Merlin felt dizzy and had to pull away to breathe.
Arthur’s hand on his waist slid around his back, holding him steady. “Are you warmer now?” Arthur asked softly, and his voice came out hoarse. Merlin nodded, unable to speak, then tipped his face up for another kiss.
*
When they woke, late into the afternoon, the blankets coiled around them where they lay in a tangled heap in Arthur’s bed, Merlin said, “You never gave me my gift.”
Arthur frowned at him, then pressed a kiss to his neck to show he wasn’t really annoyed. He ran his hand down Merlin’s side, warm and soft and possessive.
“What, did you want it wrapped?”
FIN
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-01-02 07:05 pm (UTC)Loves.
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Date: 2009-01-04 08:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-02 08:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-04 08:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-02 10:29 pm (UTC)Mwah!! \o/
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Date: 2009-01-04 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-02 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-04 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-02 11:20 pm (UTC)Oh yeah! A wrapped Arthur XD
You did very well!
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Date: 2009-01-04 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-03 12:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-04 08:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-03 12:35 am (UTC)Angie
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Date: 2009-01-04 08:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-03 01:50 am (UTC)this is completely wonderful.
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Date: 2009-01-04 08:21 pm (UTC)And thanks, I'm glad you liked it.
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Date: 2009-01-04 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-03 02:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-04 08:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-03 02:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-04 08:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-03 04:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-04 08:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-03 05:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-04 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-03 02:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-04 08:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-03 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-04 08:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-04 01:58 pm (UTC)just loved!!! left me warm and tingly and just what i needed!!
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Date: 2009-01-04 08:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-11 08:12 pm (UTC)Love the story and your writing style. And the all-knowing Morgana. XD
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Date: 2009-01-12 11:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-13 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-01-14 08:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-26 09:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-26 09:10 pm (UTC)