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It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
Merlin laughed, absolutely gleeful, as he spun around in the falling snow. His eyes were crinkled from his wide grin and his arms were spread out with his palms skyward. His head tilted back, and his voice ringing out—the brightest sound in the darkness of the night.
Arthur knew he was done for the moment the dark clouds took over the sky and the air grew cold. Now, though, he was melting despite the freeze. Warmed from the inside out. Merlin was practically glowing under the heavy veil of midnight, and Arthur couldn’t calm his heart.
He feared it would beat out of his chest.
Merlin, though, was so carefree. So happy. So clueless to Arthur’s thoughts. So oblivious.
Oh, gods, he loved him.
Even with the chill in his bones from the icy air against his skin, Arthur felt hot. Distantly, his mind reminded him that was a sign of hypothermia. He ignored that part of his brain. It most certainly was just the blush on his cheeks, stretching all the way to the tips of his ears, that originated from watching Merlin spin around like a child in the snowfall.
It was the most beautiful sight he ’d ever seen.
“Don’t you just love this?” Merlin called out, laughing still, as he finally stopped spinning to look at the King. “It’s so—”
“Beautiful?” Arthur offered up, walking over to his Court Sorcerer. He knew he wasn’t talking about the snow, but Merlin didn’t need to know that.
Though, maybe he already knew that—if the blush that rose to his face was any sign, he did.
Snowflakes looked like stars in the dark mess of Merlin’s hair, and Arthur longed to reach out and tangle his fingers in it. Brush out the frozen particles, feel Merlin… Gods, he was in deep.
“I cannot believe you ran all the way to my chambers, dragged me out of bed like there was an emergency, and pulled me all the way out here in my night clothes because you got excited over a bit of snow.” Arthur crossed his arms over his chest. He ignored the way he was shivering, ignored the gooseflesh broken out across his arms. Merlin gave a slightly sheepish, albeit still brighter-than-the-sun, grin.
“The first snow has always been a big thing in Ealdor…” He said softly, “it’s a good sign—and it’s good to be out in the first snow. Prosperity. Promises a good, safe, winter, to be out and appreciating what is gifted to us.”
A smile spread across Arthur’s lips despite his desire to keep up the annoyed King act. Truly, though, Merlin never failed to warm his heart. It was incredible, really. He was such a wonder… Such a—gods, he was one of a kind.
“I love—” Arthur caught himself before he finished the sentence, and he saw more than heard the way Merlin’s breath hitched. The way his chest constricted, and his eyes widened… Arthur scrambled to correct himself. “The snow. I love the snow.” He cleared his throat.
“It’s ah, beautiful. Lovely. I just, suppose I prefer to enjoy it when I’m wearing more clothing and have a full night’s rest.”
Right, splendid. Perfect cover-up!
“Oh.” Merlin blinked slowly. Arthur was sure he must have imagined the disappointment that flickered on his face. “Right, of course. Well, I just—I supposed you would want to see it. It’s said to be good fortune to spend the first snow with your—with a…” Merlin paused, looking away, his voice growing quieter, “good friend.”
“Right.” Arthur coughed slightly, his gaze darting around—looking anywhere but at Merlin.
The air between them grew awkward and stiff. Silence falling upon them like a plague. When Arthur finally did look back to Merlin, his heart almost stopped beating—he swore it—from the beauty before him.
The clouds had parted just enough for the light of the full moon to shine down on Merlin, illuminating his pale skin and highlighting him in all the best ways. The snow continued to stick to his hair, decorating it. His eyes, deep and contrasting the rest of him in the moment, nearly glowed, and his lips, pink and bitten tempted him.
“You are the picture of ethereal,” Arthur breathed before he knew what he was saying.
Merlin inhaled sharply; Arthur’s eyes widened as he processed his words. At this point, he couldn’t figure out if the burn on his cheeks was from the mortification of what he’d said, or if it really was the beginning of hypothermia.
Hypothermia sounded quite nice, though.
“Arthur, I—”
“Merlin—”
They both started and stopped speaking in unison, nervous laughter filling the air after their words. Arthur dropped his arms to his sides, then clasped his hands behind his back, looking away. Merlin rocked back and forth on his feet, facing skyward again. Faintly, Arthur found himself feeling like a young boy again, crushing on the stable boy and unsure how to proceed.
“Um.” Merlin cleared his throat.
Arthur swallowed hard. “You—ah, what were you saying?”
“No! No, you can go first,” Merlin insisted, a nervous edge to his voice.
“Right, um…” Arthur trailed off, face burning in a way that was definitely not hypothermia.
Dammit.
“Well.” The hesitant waver in his voice would have been obvious to even the most oblivious. So, naturally, Arthur knew Merlin noticed it. He steadfastly avoided looking at his face. “I just—wanted to ask… Ah, about…that Ealdor thing…”
“That Ealdor thing?” Merlin asked, voice soft in a way Arthur’d never heard before. “Which one?”
“The uh, the, well,” Arthur stammered. He felt wrong-footed, being so flustered like this. It wasn’t like him. He was the confident one! But now, now he was a blushing, blabbering mess. Oh, gods, the things Merlin did to him… “You said it’s good fortune to enjoy the first snow with a…close friend.”
“I did—say that.”
“Is that also true for, say—oh, fuck,” Arthur swore, running his hands through his hair, before looking to Merlin with wide eyes. Merlin stared back at him, and Arthur let himself believe it was hope he saw on his face.
“I love you, Merlin,” he confessed, before he could stop himself. “I love you. And you are just—gods, you make me…such a mess and I can’t explain it! You make me a fool! But then you come and drag out in the middle of the night, and you dance in the snow, beneath the stars, and you look…indescribable, and you just—expect me not to fall so in love with you I can’t remember my own name?”
Merlin stared at him, stunned and slack-jawed. Gaping like a fish. Suddenly, regret began to build inside him, growing stronger the longer the silence stretched. His stomach flipped and stirred, and Arthur wasn’t totally sure he wasn’t about to see his supper again. His heart pounded in his chest.
Then, Merlin walked the few paces between them and grabbed Arthur’s face in his freezing hands. Arthur hissed at the icy touch but didn’t flinch away. Gods, he couldn’t even if he had wanted to—frozen in place.
“I lied,” Merlin whispered, shocking Arthur back into reality.
His eyes went wide, and his lips parted to demand clarification, ready to tug himself out of Merlin’s hold, no matter how badly he wanted to stay close to him. He didn’t get as far as even thinking the first word before Merlin was continuing.
“It’s not, um…good fortune to enjoy the first snowfall with a close friend,” he said, “I just said that in hopes that you would ask what it was to be in it with a lover.”
Arthur blinked slowly, speechless. He was well aware he was now the one gaping like a fish. “Why?” he heard himself ask. Merlin let out a small, nervous laugh.
“So, that I could ask if you’d like to find out?”
Arthur felt the air leave his lungs in a rush. His eyes were surely as wide as they could possibly be, and his heart was absolutely malfunctioning. His stomach flipped, but not with nausea this time. Then, a startled laugh tore from his lips and Merlin frowned.
“What?” he asked, voice small.
“No—nothing! I just—” Arthur snorted, desperately trying to regain his composure. Once he finally managed to do so, he took a deep breath and continued, “we’re idiots. I mean, I know Morgana says it frequently, but gods, Merlin, she may be right—don’t tell her I said that.”
“I’d never,” Merlin huffed, before tugging his bottom lip between his lips. His eyes flicked over Arthur’s face, searching for something that made Arthur feel so…bare. Then, he let out a sigh and pressed their foreheads together. “She is, though, I suppose. We are…idiots.”
Arthur sighed softly, closing his eyes.
“In case it wasn’t clear, I love you, too, Arthur.”
A smiled tugged at his lips. Arthur snaked his arms around Merlin’s waist and pulled him closer. “It was clear, Merlin. But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy hearing it.”
“Well, in that case,” Merlin hummed, “I love you, Arthur Pendragon. Royal Prat of Camelot.”
Arthur huffed out a laugh and peeked open an eye. “Merlin.”
“Yes, Arthur?”
“Just kiss me, already?”
Merlin grinned brightly and leaned in close, their lips hardly a centimetre apart.
“Yes, Arthur.”