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Arthur still wasn't speaking to him, not really; but neither had he brought him before his father nor sent him away, so Merlin supposed he didn't have much room to complain. Even if the heavy silence sometimes felt like it would suffocate him.
Arthur was even being completely reasonable of late. There was no more bullying, no more ridiculous expectations. Nothing but an impassively raised eyebrow whenever Merlin fell or otherwise made an ass of himself.
It was beyond terrible. By day two Merlin was already wishing for the dungeons over this indifference. By day ten everything had settled into the dull grey of melancholy.
More than anything, he missed his friend.
—
Winter finally set in with a harsh storm that buffeted the castle and trapped everyone inside for days. It was a bleak, frigid time and Merlin found he rather commiserated with the weather. Of course the blizzard meant that Arthur was more agitated than ever, deprived of his normal outlets to hit things and generally be as violent as he liked.
And he was forced into much closer quarters with Merlin for days on end, nothing to do but scowl at the world and pace restlessly, before giving in and falling back in front of the fire while desperately trying to keep warm.
At least the harvest had been good this year, so there was more than enough to go around as everyone holed up in their homes, waiting for the snow to break. After a couple days of this, Uther decided to hold a banquet for all those stranded in the castle; they couldn't let the knights go so long without some sort of diversion after all. Merlin snorted to himself as he heard Uther hiss at Arthur that he had already broken up four different, and very heated, arguments — usually about whose female relative was the greatest trollop — and at this rate half the knights of Camelot would be killed in duels before he could finally send them out on patrol again (or just away, anywhere but in his sight).
“As far as I’m concerned, they’re all clearly related to utter tramps who couldn’t keep their legs crossed if someone paid them!”
Arthur only rolled his eyes at his father’s diatribe, saying, “Yes, well, I’m sure the festivities will soothe even the most angry of fathers, and then they can all sleep with someone else’s sister and argue about it again in the morning.”
Uther growled.
—
Arthur did seem in a lighter mood during the feast, tossing back cupfuls of wine in quick succession, but to someone who truly knew him well — which Merlin was beginning to suspect was only him — there was a tightness to his mouth that never quite went away, no matter how much he smiled and laughed and generally made merry with the others.
After hours upon hours (or at least that was how it seemed to Merlin) of eating and drinking in the great hall, which was finally warm with the body heat of so many, Merlin helped Arthur stumble back to his chambers, in silence yet again. At least this time it didn’t seem oppressive so much as pregnant with some feeling Merlin couldn’t name. Arthur kept sneaking considering glances at Merlin and sighing, grumbling to himself under his breath.
Once Merlin had safely deposited Arthur in his chair in front of the fire, Arthur crossed his arms and studied Merlin with narrowed eyes.
After a few minutes of watching Merlin fidget in the increasingly awkward silence, he heaved a great breath and shook his head, a slight bit of amusement in his gaze as he said, “Whatever am I going to do with you, Merlin?”
Eyes gone wide, he gave a nervous shrug and said, “I— I don’t know, sire. I’m yours to command, you know.”
Arthur stared at him hard at that. “Yes. Yes, I imagine you are.” And he turned back towards the fire and then snorted, continuing, “But the whole obsequious and compliant manner doesn’t suit you at all, Merlin. You’re fooling no one.”
Merlin felt something warm and pleasant flare in his belly and couldn’t have stopped himself from grinning like a lunatic even if he’d wanted to. It felt a lot like hope.
When Arthur glanced at him and saw his beaming smile, he rolled his eyes and threw one of his boots at Merlin. “Get out and go to bed already! Before someone else finds you and sees how completely dim-witted you look.”
Laughing and ducking out of the way, Merlin walked backwards to the door, failing spectacularly at reining in the happiness bubbling out of him. He paused at the last second before ducking out and said, “Goodnight, sire.”
Arthur waved an insouciant hand at him. “Night, Merlin.”
For the first time in a very long while, Merlin felt lighter than air.
—
“Everyone’s gathering in the great hall again for the midday meal, sire. Lots of leftovers to be shared.” Merlin smiled, already looking forward to what scraps he could filch from Arthur’s plate while Arthur pretended not to notice.
Arthur shook his head emphatically and said, “Oh no. Everyone could see the way Kay’s daughter Marian was positively flittering about Ector last night. Galahad and Caradoc were taking absolutely absurd bets about the outcome of that, as they always do.”
"You know, those two are always gossiping and wagering, but I don't think I've ever seen either of them so much as grab a chambermaid for a kiss."
Arthur looked at him like he was a particularly stupid animal that should quite possibly be put down.
"Wha— Oh." Merlin blushed despite himself.
Coughing, Arthur glared pointedly at Merlin and said, “Anyway, it’s definitely for the best that we make ourselves scarce today. No good can come from all the fuss that the lot of them are going to raise.”
Merlin only laughed, impossibly pleased that Arthur was confiding in him again, bantering about as if nothing had ever changed between them. (He chose to ignore the fact that they would have to have a serious conversation about Merlin’s magic at some point. This strange limbo was more than enough for the time being.)
Heaving himself up from his seat, Arthur waved a hand for Merlin to follow. “Come on, Merlin. Just because I refuse to acknowledge that all our best knights seem intent to rain havoc and debauchery down upon the court, doesn’t mean I intend to starve. And everyone knows the kitchens of Camelot are the warmest place in the whole kingdom. I intend to enjoy myself today,” Arthur drawled.
—
The kitchens were warm and toasty and they made a complete nuisance of themselves, stealing the best cuts of roast pork and warm bread before the servants could take them up to the hall. Pleasantly full and happy for the first time in days, Merlin snickered as Arthur found himself victim to multiple assaults from Cook’s ladle — not even princes were allowed to get in the way in her kingdom. And she had no problem letting him know it.
Eventually they slumped together on stools in the corner, unable to eat another bite, and enjoyed the heat radiating from the cooking fires. Snorting, Arthur pointed at the ledge above the hearth. “Never thought I’d be jealous of cats, but what I wouldn’t give to be able to curl up on the hot stones like those kittens.”
“Mmmm, must be nice up there.” Merlin yawned, feeling drowsy just thinking about it, and his head lolled a bit onto Arthur’s shoulder.
“Useless idiot.” There was a trace of fondness in his voice though, so Merlin merely smiled to himself and closed his eyes. Judging by the loud huffing noises beside him, Arthur made a great show of how put upon he was, but he didn’t move Merlin, only grumbled.
Of course the blissful peace could only last for a few moments. Brandishing her ladle at them, Cook hollered, “Oh no you don’t! Off with you! I won’t have sleeping dawdlers in my kitchen. I’ve tolerated you’re trouble long enough as it is. Out!” And they startled, running madly out of the kitchens with Mary close on their heels, laughing breathlessly the entire way back to Arthur’s chambers.
—
Unfortunately, no matter how much Merlin banked the fire, Arthur’s room was much, much colder than the kitchens and they were forced to huddle on the floor close by in order to eke out what little warmth they could from the flames.
Grumpy and pouting, Arthur sighed at Merlin. “Why can’t you do something useful, Merlin?”
A sarcastic retort was on the tip of his tongue before he noticed the raised eyebrows and significant look Arthur was giving him. Oh. So that was on the table for discussion. Right then. “Um,” Merlin stuttered, flushing and unsure about how to talk about his magic, how much Arthur would want to hear, what these new boundaries even were. He finally settled on an ambiguous but open answer, waiting to see what Arthur would do. “Like what? Did you have something in mind?”
Arthur seemed to decide Merlin really was utterly useless and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Like warm the bloody room for one! Or end the storm already. Is it possible to even do something like that?” By the last bit, Arthur was frowning thoughtfully.
“Oh, well. Possibly? But spells like that — ones that go against the natural course of the earth — always have unintended consequences. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s best not to mess with things like that…” Merlin trailed off, staring into the fire. When he finally noticed Arthur’s silence, he looked over and found that his frown had deepened.
Arthur licked his lips and seemed to consider his words carefully. “So… Although you probably shouldn’t do something like that, you could? That kind of power— it must be rare, yeah?”
Merlin swallowed nervously and said, “Honestly? Yes and yes. But I would never— I’ve only ever used it to protect you, I swear! And, maybe, to help with the cleaning now and again.” He giggled a bit at the end, unable to stop himself. But he had sworn to himself there would be no more secrets; he wouldn’t betray the tentative trust Arthur was giving him.
There was a long pause, then Arthur snorted and shook his head ruefully saying, “God, Merlin, you really are an idiot. A powerful one, apparently, but still an idiot. And someday you are going to sit down and explain every little story about you supposedly protecting me, but right now you are going to make sure we don’t freeze to death. I rather like my toes attached to my feet, thank you.”
“Oh please, no one is going to freeze to death in the castle, you pillock. And you are not in danger of losing any toes. Anyway, I could warm the room a little, but not much. Someone would notice if they came in and it was nice and toasty in here.”
Arthur pouted and grumbled something under his breath about “damned useless sorcerers” and tried to scoot closer to the fire.
Considering him, Merlin mused, “Well there is one spell I’ve been wanting to try. But I don’t think it’s exactly what you had in mind.”
“I really don’t like the gleeful look on your face right now. At all, for the record.”
Merlin pushed himself closer and whispered conspiratorially, “So you know how you were jealous of the kittens earlier? What if I knew a spell that could turn us into kittens, temporarily, for just a few hours. No one would pay attention to a couple of stray cats, and if anyone wondered where we had gone, I’m sure you could come up with something important sounding that had kept us busy.” Leaning back, he admired the exasperated expression on Arthur’s face.
“You want to turn us into cats? Are you completely daft? Or were dropped on your head too much as a child?” Really, if Arthur’s eyebrows rose any higher, they would completely disappear.
“No, it’s the perfect cover, I swear. As kittens we could go curl up with all the others in the kitchens and nap in the warmest spot in the entire castle. It’ll be brilliant!” Merlin grinned brightly. He’d always wanted to try a transmutation spell.
“A kitten. A small, fluffy kitten.” Arthur still looked like he thought Merlin was deranged.
Shrugging, Merlin said, “I could try to make it a scraggly one, if you’d prefer.”
Arthur shot upright from his slouch. “A scraggly— If you have failed to notice, Merlin, I am a prince. If I am going to be changed into anything, it will be nothing short of majestic,” he said with a great deal of emphatic handwaving.
Merlin rolled his eyes. “All right then, a royal, majestic kitten. Nothing less for you, my lord. I understand though, if you’re too scared.”
Smirking, Merlin admired his fingernails while Arthur spluttered, “I am not scared. As if you could do anything actually dangerous. God, you do have a mental affliction, I swear.”
“Then you should have no problem with being a measly kitten for a few hours, right?” Merlin asked innocently.
Arthur eyed him warily. “Ri-ight.”
—
“You’ve been keeping a book of magic in your room?”
Merlin waved his hand and said, “I’ve kept it hidden, nothing to worry about.”
Crossing his arms, Arthur raised his eyebrows. “The next time I see your mother, we are going to have a very long chat, I can assure you.”
Merlin scoffed, “You must have been such a tattletale as a child. No wonder you and Morgana are always sniping at each other. Now, I have the potion and once we take this we’ll have maybe the rest of the afternoon. But I’ll be able to tell when it’s waning, so whatever you do, don’t wander off from me. I’ll signal you when it’s time to come back to the room.”
“We’ll still be ourselves otherwise though, right? Still be able to think like a human?” Arthur asked slowly.
“Erm. Yes. I think so.”
“You think?”
Merlin had to admire how shrill Arthur’s voice could become. “Yes. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about.” He flashed a wide grin.
“That is not comforting. I don’t know why I’m even listening to you; you’re clearly insane. And this is a terrible idea.” Arthur pouted.
“It’s not! Just think of how much warmer we’ll be once we have fur.” Looking at Arthur’s unimpressed expression, he continued, “Come on, if we’re going to do this, no time like the present. Everything is quiet around here at the moment.”
Arthur gave him a half-hearted glare and muttered, “Fine. Bottoms up, then.”
And with that they clinked their vials together and drank.
The first thing Merlin noticed before he’d even finished swallowing was that his stomach seemed to have completely dropped out from under him. Then the whole world whooshed and grew very, very large (or maybe he was growing very, very small) and then he couldn’t see anything at all.
Stumbling forward a bit — and, oh wow, having four legs was strange — he quickly realised what was wrong.
He was stuck. In his shirt. Or possibly his trousers. There wasn’t really a way to tell.
Bollocks, guess I should have thought of that, he grumbled to himself and tried to make his way along the tunnel of whichever garment he was currently trapped in.
Head popping out, he surveyed the room and decided that, yeah, everything really did seem unbelievably more immense than he was used to. He had to remind himself that even as an infant he was larger than a kitten. This truly was much stranger than he had thought it would be.
Catching sight of Arthur for the first time, however, immediately made the whole ordeal worth it: there was a tiny, tawny kitten growling irritably at the heap of clothing in which he was tangled up. He looked ridiculous hissing at his shirt like some great beast with fangs.
It was adorable. And Merlin would never, ever tell Arthur that.
When Merlin tried to laugh, all that came out was a high-pitched meow and huge blue eyes instantly whipped around to stare at him. Whatever those surprised kitten eyes were trying to communicate, all that came out of his mouth were some particularly whiny cries.
Snuffling as derisively as he could for a kitten, Merlin scrambled the rest of the way out and trotted towards the door. They had a warm ledge to conquer after all.
The door. The door. Well, damn.
Sitting back on his haunches, Merlin cursed himself for not planning this through a bit more. He soon found a golden ball of fur next to him, looking between him and the door expectantly.
Merlin tried to scowl, but he wasn’t sure if the expression translated correctly. What he wanted to convey was, ‘I’m a cat now, it’s not exactly like I can open the door. Even if I could reach the doorknob, I don’t have any hands!’
When Arthur made a rumbling noise and flicked his head up, Merlin had no problem seeing Arthur roll his eyes at him in his head. He could even hear the ‘idiot’ that accompanied it.
Double damn. This was not going according to plan at all.
With a huff, Arthur scampered off towards the fire, leaping and springing about as if he were a large predator on the hunt.
Of course Arthur would love running around as a cat, stalking his prey and trying to roar. If it weren’t for his tiny size, Arthur would probably look like a fearsome lion. It suited him, even if it only made Merlin want to giggle.
Merlin trotted along after him, determined to find the warmest spot by the fireplace and curl up. Crossing in front of a mirror, however, completely derailed whatever he had been planning; without even thinking about it, he found himself puffing up and arching his back, jumping away from the mirror with a hiss.
He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but the scrawny jet-black thing with large eyes and ungainly, long legs was not it.
Not to mention the ears — enormous ears that flickered all around and were now flattened back in distress. Arthur was never going to let him hear the end of this. At least his fur looked nice and thick, in a dark, rich black.
Giving himself one last, lingering hiss (he would definitely have to sit down and analyse his easy reversion to animal instincts at some point), he finally made his way over to the warmth.
Arthur was still stalking around, crouching down and then suddenly pouncing on whatever unsuspecting articles of clothing and shoes he could find. Merlin had to admire the speed with which his rather muscular kitten body attacked. Even if they never made it to the kitchens, the joy visible in every inch of Arthur as he pranced around like the magnificent creature he clearly thought he was filled Merlin with giddiness. His magic had done this, made Arthur this happy, and Merlin didn’t think there was a better or more right feeling in the world.
When Arthur turned and found Merlin, Merlin swore he could see a wicked gleam in his big eyes. Shite, he thought to himself as he tried to scarper away, even though he knew he was doomed; Arthur’s body might not be as long as Merlin’s, but he looked like he had easily twice the mass.
Nipping and growling, Arthur chased Merlin all around the room. They rolled and lunged in a giant tangle of fur and Merlin had to admit that roughhousing with Arthur was a lot more fun as a cat. Although his body was still gangly, his animal instincts compensated at least a little for the difference. And Arthur wouldn’t even be able to yell at him later for the solid thwaps and pounces of his own that he was able to land.
Eventually he found himself flat on his back with a proudly meowing Arthur on top of him, pinning him down. Merlin could just imagine the roar Arthur thought he was producing. Adorable git.
By unspoken mutual agreement, they both collapsed, curled up together in front of the fire. Play fighting was tiring. There were even some stray rays of light streaming in through the window and the snow for them to sun themselves in on the rug. Between the fur, the fire, and the sunlight, not to mention Arthur, Merlin felt amazingly comfortable and warm and wiggled his nose in closer under Arthur’s chin.
He chose to ignore the fact that they were snuggling of all things, which he knew Arthur would vigorously deny later. Arthur was purring in contentment and Merlin wanted nothing more than to doze surrounded by Arthur’s limbs. As he drifted off, he swore he could feel Arthur licking the fur on his head and giving him a thorough bath.
When he woke sometime later — hours maybe? — Merlin could feel his skin tingling and pulled himself out of Arthur’s hold and wandered off. Who knew how disorienting it would be once the spell wore off. Arthur looked up and rumbled his dissatisfaction at the end of their nap.
Abruptly Merlin felt his limbs lengthen at a dizzying pace as the room seemed to shrink all at once, leaving his stomach heaving in disorientation. And standing in front of Arthur.
A very naked Arthur.
And while Merlin had seen Arthur undressed countless times, he had never been naked as well. Nor had Arthur ever been gawking at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, gaze clearly flickering down and cheeks reddening. Merlin could feel his entire body flush and he flailed wildly for his clothes and threw himself behind the changing screen, managing not to bash himself into anything too badly. Panting behind the screen, Merlin attempted to get his breathing under control and told himself to pull it together. There was no reason for any awkwardness to linger.
Arthur was dressed and avoiding Merlin’s eyes once he came back out and Merlin quickly made his excuses and fled.
—
The next day Arthur was cranky. He wandered around his room in a moody sulk as they were still stuck inside with little to do (and even more feuding knights to avoid).
Eventually Merlin snapped, “Is there a reason you’re being even more of an utter prat than normal? Or is this just for fun?”
Arthur actually looked a bit sheepish. He crossed his arms protectively and muttered, “Was cold last night. Couldn’t sleep.”
“Well I’m sorry you’re so tired, but I’d appreciate it if you’d stop taking it out on me. It’s not my fault you couldn’t sleep,” Merlin said with a roll of his eyes.
Arthur pouted. “It was so warm yesterday, with the fur and the fire and… everything. How did you manage to get comfortable last night with that fresh in your head?”
Sighing, Merlin considered Arthur exasperatedly. “I was freezing too, you know. I just make an effort not to inflict my grumpiness on others.” Running his hand through his hair, he continued, “I could make another dose if you want, a longer acting one. If we take it later, we could sleep through the coldest part of the night.”
And Merlin could run away to safety well before the potion ran out. He ducked his head, trying to hide his blush at the thought of another incident like the day before.
Looking up through his eyelashes, he quickly added, “Or, you know, just for enough for you. Make sure you get a good, long rest.”
Arthur stared back at him with an earnest, hopeful expression. “You— You could do that? Not only for me, I mean. I, uh, had a lot of fun playing around as a cat. First decent exercise I’ve had in days.” He quirked his lips ruefully.
“Of course. Yeah,” Merlin stuttered, his pulse speeding up without his consent. He would definitely need time to get his errant imagination under control before tonight.
—
Later that night, they made their preparations hastily (some stones warmed in the fire under Arthur’s sheets; Merlin would make his escape long before the potion ran out and Arthur could sleep whatever was left of the night away in comfort, or something like that) and drank their draughts. Merlin knew he was rushing, but he wanted nothing more than to become a kitten and ignore the strange awkwardness that had been haunting them all day.
Once he saw Arthur’s tawny fur, he couldn’t help but to lope over and headbutt him playfully. Being a kitten was fun, at least for a little while. Arthur meowed in excitement and chased him around, but grew tired much more quickly than the day before. Yawning and sticking his bum in the air to stretch his back, Arthur wandered over to the bed and paused.
When Merlin joined him he could see why: the bed was a lot taller than they had realised. Rumbling, Arthur kneaded his claws and waggled his tiny bum back in preparation for a great leap. He sprang up, limbs outstretched, and landed on the bedclothes hanging over the side by his claws. As he tried to scramble up the rest of the way, one of his back paws became tangled and he flopped back onto the floor with a thud.
Merlin laughed himself silly at the ridiculously cute image Arthur made, meowing irritably and glaring daggers at the bed, as if it had personally offended him. Or he tried to laugh anyway, which came out more like hiccoughing snuffles than anything else.
Arthur growled and pounced on him, then pushed him towards the bed as though to say, ‘You think this is so funny, you try to jump up there.’
After Merlin tried and completely failed, he had to concede the point. It was much harder than it looked. At least Arthur’s wide, blue eyes seemed much more amused afterwards.
Eventually, following much trial and error, they managed to clamber their way up onto the bed.
Arthur burrowed under the bedclothes, purring in satisfaction the whole while. The hot stones felt amazing underneath them, Merlin had to agree. Once they were firmly ensconced, all tucked up around each other, he nodded off immediately, exhausted as a kitten after a long day.
—
Merlin was very, very warm. And he was curled around a wonderful pillow, radiating heat and molded to his chest as it was. He nosed at the shoulder his head was buried against and snuggled closer.
The shoulder…
Oh gods. Merlin snapped awake instantly, his entire body going tense. He was supposed to have been able to feel the potion wearing off. He was not supposed to still be in Arthur’s bed.
Arthur’s arse was right there and they were both naked and he very much needed to get away right that very moment. Lifting his arm slowly from Arthur’s chest, he made sure not to jostle Arthur while he beat a hasty retreat. Or tried to anyway; as soon as he started to back away, Arthur’s hand whipped out and grabbed his arm, yanking him back in.
“I have not been this comfortable in months, Merlin, and I swear I will have you thrown in the stocks for a week if you move anywhere,” he growled.
Merlin squawked, “But— You— We’re— Arthur! You can’t be serious!”
Heaving a sigh, Arthur turned his head to look over his shoulder. “You really are quite thick sometimes, you know that?” And then he grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him down for a kiss.
Arthur was kissing him. Licking sleepily at his mouth, in fact, but by the time Merlin recovered from his shock enough to respond he had pulled away and snuggled back into Merlin’s arms. Snuggled.
“Close your mouth already, Merlin; it makes you look like a right idiot. And go back to sleep, there’ll be plenty of time for everything else in the morning,” he grumbled while his breathing evened back out.
“Pillock.”
But Merlin smiled and wrapped his arms tightly around Arthur again.
—
At the feast the following night, Merlin was a flushed mess of barely contained energy. The fact that Arthur kept giving him these knowing looks and lingering touches was certainly not helping.
But when he saw Caradoc leering at him, while Galahad scowled and handed over a purseful of coins, he quickly paled and prayed to all the old gods and the new that the storm would be over soon.