Chapter Text
Merlin wakes up with his neck aching, twisted awkwardly from hours reading.
It’s some inanely late hour, which he surmises based on the fact that the moon is high in the sky, and that it’s almost pitch dark in the reading chamber. He also surmises that Arthur was called to do some duty, or just had to go to bed, based on the fact that he isn’t there with him, but his turquoise scarf has been draped across his shoulders.
He rolls his neck out, standing up and placing his notes in the book, closing it and picking it up. He turns, about to push through the revolving door, until a slip of paper catches his eye.
He picks it up, trying to read it, but it’s far too dark. He resolves to go back to his quarters, light a candle, and read it there.
He tucks the note into his pocket, grabs his coat, and makes his way out of the library, across the courtyard, through the corridor, up the staircase for one, two, three, and four floors, then straight forward, to the left, and the third room on the right.
He grabs the key out of his other waistcoat pocket, sticking it in the lock and twisting it, pushing the door open.
It’s a small room, really just a bed, a desk, and a dresser, with no fireplace to temper the winter chill, but it’s a room in the royal palace, across from the abbey he studies in, it’s close to the kitchens, close to pseudo-father and the library keeper, Gaius, close to his newly found best friend, the prince, and that’s all he can really ask for.
He sets the book on his desk and hangs his coat on the chair, taking the note out of his waistcoat as he takes it off.
He attempts and fails to fold the rest of his clothes, and changes into his nightclothes, a pair of loose linen trousers and a shirt.
He walks over to his desk, and grabs the candle and the flint and steel fire started, trying to get the wick to catch fire. When he finally manages, he picks up the candle and sets it on his nightstand, taking the note with him.
In the flickering candlelight, he begins to read.
Dearest Merlin,
It is my greatest sorrow that I must relinquish your company at this early hour.
I hate that sentence.
I’m just going to try again.
I’m not going to bother with the fancy court-writing, I know it’s a headache for both of us. I am serious though. I’m sorry I had to go, and that I didn’t wake you up, but you were tired.
And don’t try to fight me on that, I know you haven’t been sleeping more than a few hours each night, you literally live in that reading chamber.
My father called me, and needs me to tend to some state affairs for the next few days. I’ll still be in the palace, just locked up in various meetings and doing damned paperwork, so I won’t be able to join you in the library at all.
But, you know, if someone just coincidentally happened to drop a note, or some books outside my chambers at dusk, I certainly wouldn’t be able to read them, or set some other books and a note on the table outside my room at dawn.
Certainly not.
Anyway, even if you decide to ignore what is certainly not a recommendation or suggestion that I have definitely not just written, it should only be about a week before I can visit you in the library again.
Warmly and in deep dread of coming paperwork and meetings,
Arthur
Merlin smiles, leaning over to blow out the candle.
He could work with that.