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windemereDisclaimer: The characters in Merlin belong to the BBC and not to me. I make no money from this, just pleasure!
AN: For a friend, who needs a smile or two.
Winter has fully descended across the kingdom. The winds have blown cold out of the north for weeks already and look to do so for many weeks more. It is the worst winter even the grandfathers can remember.
Merlin has kept a fire going in Arthur’s hearth nearly constantly since the weather turned. Arthur would never admit to being cold, but Merlin isn’t about to risk the Prince’s health by chancing a chill. It’s a laborious chore having to restock the firewood every day, but Merlin does it without complaint. He hopes Morgana’s servant is being just as diligent, but he knows Gwen will make sure of it. He can’t quite bring himself to care whether the King is snug or not.
He looks after Gaius as much as he can in his spare time (which isn’t much). Weather like this is especially hard on the old, and they can’t afford for their physician to succumb to illness at this time. Merlin dutifully adds logs to the fire whenever he is back in the room, and makes sure Gaius has something hot to drink before bed each night. Neither of them has been out herb gathering since the weather turned and the snow started. Most of the plants are buried now anyways. Merlin hopes their stocks are in need of resupply before spring arrives. If it ever arrives.
Arthur has become irritable lately. It’s too cold to practice in the yard except at mid-day when the sun is strongest, and Merlin knows he’s starting to get bored. Arthur bored is never a good thing, but Merlin can’t think of what to do to entertain the Prince.
One particularly wretched day the sun doesn’t show his face at all; hidden behind dark clouds and blowing snow. Arthur doesn’t leave his room all day, sitting at his window staring out at the whirling whiteness. Merlin comes and goes, and Arthur ignores him.
The light fades early as the sun sets behind the mass of grey. Merlin lights candles to chase away the shadows and brings Arthur a sturdy meal of stew and bread. Arthur eats it without really paying it any attention.
Merlin normally leaves the Prince to his meal, preferring to go about his work rather than sit in uncomfortable silence. Tonight, for some reason he can’t quite acknowledge, he stays. Arthur doesn’t make a comment. He picks away mouthful by mouthful until the bowl is empty and the bread no more than crumbs.
“Is there anything else you want?” Merlin asks when Arthur is finished.
“No,” comes the short reply. Arthur pushes his chair back abruptly and stomps back to the window. He can barely see across the courtyard in the storm now raging.
“Arthur...” Merlin starts, but doesn’t know how to continue. The silence that follows is long and uncomfortable, but Arthur doesn’t tell him to leave, so Merlin stays.
Finally, just as Merlin is getting antsy to move, to talk, to do something, Arthur turns to him. His stare is intense, so intense Merlin can’t stop himself from glancing away. Arthur has never looked at him like that.
“Merlin,” he starts himself and then stops. He takes five measured steps across the floor until he is half way to Merlin’s side. He seems to hesitate a moment, and Merlin’s breath catches wondering what is coming. “Merlin...stay.” His voice is almost pleading, but Merlin would never comment on that.
The simple word shocks him. He never thought, even when he’d hoped, but suddenly the very idea of it scares him to death. He can barely find it in himself to nod, but nod he does. Arthur approaches him slowly, as if to a scared stallion he is afraid to corner. Merlin stands his ground, unable to make his legs obey his command to do something. He just doesn’t know what to do . Arthur stops a foot away. His eyes are dark in the candle light, heavy with what Merlin realises is desire. It’s all too much, but Merlin can’t turn away, can’t even think.
The Prince leans forward, cautiously. Merlin hardly dares breathe as Arthur’s lips graze his, but then the spell, or whatever has been holding him locked in stillness breaks, and Merlin pushes forward. Arthur laughs softly against his mouth as he meets him. The room is suddenly too warm despite the fact they both know otherwise.
Arthur catches an arm, hardly breaking the kiss, as he pulls Merlin backwards to the bed. They reach it sooner than expected and Merlin’s weight forces Arthur backwards and down until they’re lying side by side on the thick blankets.
What begins is a slow exploration. There’s no rush, after all, and they’ve both waited long enough to take it easy. They have all night.
Outside the wind howls around the courtyard whipping blinding snow. But they don’t care.
AN: For a friend, who needs a smile or two.
Winter has fully descended across the kingdom. The winds have blown cold out of the north for weeks already and look to do so for many weeks more. It is the worst winter even the grandfathers can remember.
Merlin has kept a fire going in Arthur’s hearth nearly constantly since the weather turned. Arthur would never admit to being cold, but Merlin isn’t about to risk the Prince’s health by chancing a chill. It’s a laborious chore having to restock the firewood every day, but Merlin does it without complaint. He hopes Morgana’s servant is being just as diligent, but he knows Gwen will make sure of it. He can’t quite bring himself to care whether the King is snug or not.
He looks after Gaius as much as he can in his spare time (which isn’t much). Weather like this is especially hard on the old, and they can’t afford for their physician to succumb to illness at this time. Merlin dutifully adds logs to the fire whenever he is back in the room, and makes sure Gaius has something hot to drink before bed each night. Neither of them has been out herb gathering since the weather turned and the snow started. Most of the plants are buried now anyways. Merlin hopes their stocks are in need of resupply before spring arrives. If it ever arrives.
Arthur has become irritable lately. It’s too cold to practice in the yard except at mid-day when the sun is strongest, and Merlin knows he’s starting to get bored. Arthur bored is never a good thing, but Merlin can’t think of what to do to entertain the Prince.
One particularly wretched day the sun doesn’t show his face at all; hidden behind dark clouds and blowing snow. Arthur doesn’t leave his room all day, sitting at his window staring out at the whirling whiteness. Merlin comes and goes, and Arthur ignores him.
The light fades early as the sun sets behind the mass of grey. Merlin lights candles to chase away the shadows and brings Arthur a sturdy meal of stew and bread. Arthur eats it without really paying it any attention.
Merlin normally leaves the Prince to his meal, preferring to go about his work rather than sit in uncomfortable silence. Tonight, for some reason he can’t quite acknowledge, he stays. Arthur doesn’t make a comment. He picks away mouthful by mouthful until the bowl is empty and the bread no more than crumbs.
“Is there anything else you want?” Merlin asks when Arthur is finished.
“No,” comes the short reply. Arthur pushes his chair back abruptly and stomps back to the window. He can barely see across the courtyard in the storm now raging.
“Arthur...” Merlin starts, but doesn’t know how to continue. The silence that follows is long and uncomfortable, but Arthur doesn’t tell him to leave, so Merlin stays.
Finally, just as Merlin is getting antsy to move, to talk, to do something, Arthur turns to him. His stare is intense, so intense Merlin can’t stop himself from glancing away. Arthur has never looked at him like that.
“Merlin,” he starts himself and then stops. He takes five measured steps across the floor until he is half way to Merlin’s side. He seems to hesitate a moment, and Merlin’s breath catches wondering what is coming. “Merlin...stay.” His voice is almost pleading, but Merlin would never comment on that.
The simple word shocks him. He never thought, even when he’d hoped, but suddenly the very idea of it scares him to death. He can barely find it in himself to nod, but nod he does. Arthur approaches him slowly, as if to a scared stallion he is afraid to corner. Merlin stands his ground, unable to make his legs obey his command to do something. He just doesn’t know what to do . Arthur stops a foot away. His eyes are dark in the candle light, heavy with what Merlin realises is desire. It’s all too much, but Merlin can’t turn away, can’t even think.
The Prince leans forward, cautiously. Merlin hardly dares breathe as Arthur’s lips graze his, but then the spell, or whatever has been holding him locked in stillness breaks, and Merlin pushes forward. Arthur laughs softly against his mouth as he meets him. The room is suddenly too warm despite the fact they both know otherwise.
Arthur catches an arm, hardly breaking the kiss, as he pulls Merlin backwards to the bed. They reach it sooner than expected and Merlin’s weight forces Arthur backwards and down until they’re lying side by side on the thick blankets.
What begins is a slow exploration. There’s no rush, after all, and they’ve both waited long enough to take it easy. They have all night.
Outside the wind howls around the courtyard whipping blinding snow. But they don’t care.
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no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 05:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 06:27 pm (UTC)I hear Dave is being delightfully helpful too?
no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 09:35 pm (UTC)I'll be in the library all morning tomorrow. Probably the PG room.
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Date: 2009-06-11 06:28 am (UTC)I don't know yet if I'll be in the library at all, but I might see you :)