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Chapter Text

II: Midwinter's Tidings (Part 1)

UNEXPECTED GIFTS

When Merlin's second (not quite) Yule with Arthur arrived, he was dismayed to learn that they would not even be in Camelot for the holiday.

"Father has decided I need to tour the realm," Camelot's Crown Prince replied with a shrug.

"During Midwinter?" Merlin demanded.

Arthur frowned, and Merlin internally winced at the flicker of hurt that swept across his prince's expression, "I have not ordered you to accompany me, Merlin…"

Unfortunately, Merlin's mouth had yet to catch up with his brain, "I actually have a choice in the matter?"

Arthur's frown deepened, and he turned away to hide his discomfort, "No, as such. But I am sure Gaius can come up with some sort of excuse-"

"Is your father accompanying you?" Merlin interrupted.

Pure disbelief wiped away Arthur's frown (on the positive side, the prince no longer looked quite so upset), "What do you think, Merlin? He has never stepped foot outside of Camelot without first leaving me in charge."

Perhaps Arthur had not meant to sound so bitter, but Merlin heard his tone regardless and frowned, "That settles it, then."

The irritation swiftly returned, and Arthur scowled, "What does 'that' settle?"

Merlin answered the scowl with one of his own, pure determination sweeping across his face, "You are absolutely mad if you think I'll let you go anywhere without me."

Arthur sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. The action, however, did nothing to conceal the hastily smothered gratitude that leapt into his eyes, "Well, at least we have that settled. You aren't afraid of a little cold, are you, Merlin?"

The last vestiges of relief Arthur hid behind his expression rather negated the would-be arrogant smirk he wore. Merlin rolled his eyes, "It isn't the weather I am worried about, Your Majesty," mocking.

Arthur snorted, "Have plans to protect me, have you?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow, answering the widening smirk with one of his own, "Of course. Gods know what you'd get into, otherwise."

He rather expected the open palm that impacted the back of his head—he wasn't so used to how gentle it seemed; fond, even, "Shut up, Merlin."

As such, the rather large smile he wore as he watched Arthur stride down the hall to attend to a few last minute details regarding their midwinter tour could not quite be hidden from the pair of watchful eyes that had come searching for him.

A mittened finger lightly pushed up his chin, "Your heart is showing, my boy. A little too much, if you want the identity of Arthur's gift-giver to remain a secret."

Merlin blushed bright red. "Gaius," he muttered, embarrassed and raising a hand to his face in an attempt to conceal it.

Fondly, Gaius shook his head, lightly gabbing the scruff of his apprentice's neck, "Come along, Merlin—I believe we have a few things to gather before you head out, and a few lessons to give along the way."

Merlin glanced up sharply, "You're not coming with us?"

Gaius chuckled, "Merlin…I know I may not seem it, but I am an old man. I can hardly go traipsing about the countryside in the middle of winter."

"That's just your excuse," Merlin grumbled, feeling far more nervous than he felt he ought.

Gaius smiled kindly, steering them down the corridor towards the physician's rooms, "If it works. We'll set this as a test of your knowledge of field medicine, and take it from there. Try to avoid any unnecessary…ah, complications…in the meantime."

Merlin scowled slightly, knowing that "unnecessary complications" meant complications of the magical kind. "It's not like I ask them to happen," he growled.

Gaius simply chuckled again, and swung an arm around the younger man's shoulders, "I know you don't, Merlin. I just thought I'd encourage you to be proactive about it."

Merlin's frown did nothing other than invite Gaius's laughter to trail them down the hallway.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Three days prior to (not) Yule, Merlin found himself roused from his slumber an hour before dawn by Gaius. A breakfast of (surprisingly) warm porridge later, and Merlin emerged shivering in the courtyard beneath his too-thin cloak.

When he realized he had been the first of their party to arrive, Merlin blew out a breath that hung white in the pre-dawn air. Shivering again, he rubbed together hands that chafed red in the frigid cold and decided to at least make himself useful (it would aid his need for secrecy, too, and might even warm him up in the process).

By the time Arthur arrived in the courtyard, gray light had filtered through the clouds, and two tacked, saddled, and saddle bag-laden horses awaited him. When Arthur stepped off the last stair and found himself greeted by his fully-geared charger's warm, wet nose, the Crown Prince's eyebrows came together with a nearly audible snap.

"Should I be worried?" he questioned, an ironic lilt to his voice that Merlin would have taken affront to had not Arthur's quip carried a rough, not-quite-awake edge.

He eyed the older teenager with an amused smirk, gently patting the neck of a brown mare Stablemaster Jon had lent him for this journey, "I think I'm the one who should be worried, Your Highness. Will you be able to keep your seat?"

Arthur's wordless scowl told Merlin just how awake he was at the moment (barely).

Smothering his chuckle in the crease of his elbow, Merlin reached for the two brown paper-wrapped parcels Arthur carried with him, "Shall I take those before you drop them, my Liege?"

When Arthur all but shoved them into his chest, Merlin scowled, and opened his mouth to snap something rather poisonous at the prince.  Arthur chose that moment to suddenly grasp the back of his head and roughly ruffle his hair: "Shut up, Merlin," half-growled, half-snorted, "you can take umbrage with me after you've opened them."

Merlin's mind pulled a perfect blank as he straightened up, a hand automatically going to his head, "What?" breathed dumbly.

Arthur gave him a look that asked if he were really that much of an idiot.

"You're…giving these to…to me?" completely nonplussed.

Arthur's cheeks turned pink, and Merlin was almost—almost—certain the rosy light of dawn wasn't to blame.

Instead of answering, Arthur shoved past him and immediately swung himself up onto his stallion, keeping his back deliberately turned to Merlin, "Father asked Sir Leon to gather the Knights at the Stables for some last minute instructions. I expect you to be properly dressed by the time we're through."

Without waiting for Merlin's objection that he had already dressed, Arthur lightly dug his heels into his charger's sides and clattered across the courtyard's cobblestones with a soft, "Hah!"

He left Merlin standing at the bottom of the steps, baffled and irritated. With an exasperated huff, and an impatient shrug, thinking not-so-charitable thoughts about the prince in question, Merlin set down the bundles to unwrap them.

It soon became abundantly clear that Arthur had not been playing at all. Laid out in front of Merlin were two piles of rather expensive looking clothes: a pair of black velvet gloves lined with dappled brown rabbit fur, and a dark blue, woolen cloak lined with the same.

For a few frozen seconds, Merlin could do nothing but stare at the apparent-gifts, trying to force his mind into some semblance of coherence. He had no idea if this clothing had been commissioned for him, or if it had once belonged to Arthur and no longer fit, but either way, it was clear Arthur intended for him to wear both.

Scrubbing embarrassedly at the moisture that had abruptly wicked out of the corner of his eye, Merlin swiftly donned the cloak, pulling its hood over his head, and pulled on the gloves. Immediately, warmth encased his body and his hands, and Merlin realized the clothing had, at the very least, been tailored—it fit him near-perfectly.

After a moment of gazing unsurely down at his hands, a little afraid to translate what that meant, Merlin swept the crumpled brown paper into the nearest rubbish barrel, and quietly mounted up on his horse.

Perhaps the gentle beast sensed her rider felt a bit overwhelmed, for she quickly set off across the courtyard without a word from him. By the time they had joined Arthur and his Father's Knights, Merlin felt a little more even-keeled, had even come up with a smart retort for the prince, which—at the same time—indirectly, of course—thanked him for the unexpected presents.

It died on his lips the moment Arthur caught sight of him, and hastily turned away to smother the satisfied smirk that appeared on his lips when he took in Merlin bundled up in the gloves and cloak.

With the Knights otherwise preoccupied, Merlin cantered up alongside Arthur's mount and, leaning over, momentarily snagged the reins. Arthur started, his hand caught between the reins and Merlin's own, staring down uncertainly at his manservant's gloved fingers.

When he glanced up, Merlin met his eyes, "Commissioned or tailored?" asked lowly.

It certainly wasn't the sunrise that caused color to fly into the older boy's cheeks, but he, at least, gave an honest answer (perhaps a little too stunned to obfuscate it), "Commissioned."

Merlin's eyes widened. "Arthur-" he began to protest softly, but the Crown Prince simply shook his head and gently broke from Merlin's grip, urging his stallion into a steady trot beside Leon's.

As the other Knights fell into formation around him, Merlin watched Arthur's back, reaching down to touch the saddle bag next to his right knee.

End Midwinter's Tidings (Part 1)

Chapter Text

II: Midwinter's Tidings (Part 2)

FIRST NIGHT

By the time the Knights had set up the first evening's encampment, Merlin had (privately) blessed Arthur half a dozen times over for the wool, velvet, and fur of his new cloak and gloves. The day had not warmed up by any means, and in fact (as Merlin saw fit to point out to Arthur when the Crown Prince sought him after supper), it seemed only to have grown colder.

Arthur smothered a grin, watching Merlin with an expression the warlock could almost label fond (if he weren't receiving that look from Arthur), and took a seat beside the younger man on the fallen log he had claimed near the outskirts of one of the fires. "We are headed North, Merlin. Surely even you, with your horrible directional sense, know that."

Merlin snorted, "Indeed, Your Highness? And who was it that found the way out of the Labyrinth of Gedreth?"

Arthur leaned forward, unable to conceal a smirk, as his dancing blue eyes met Merlin's own in the shadows of the firelight, "I refuse to consider that anything other than a fluke."

As Merlin opened his mouth, a sally on the tip of his tongue and (discreetly, of course) sliding his current leather-working project into the rucksack at his feet, Arthur hastily interrupted him, "What are you working on?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow, having difficulty hiding his own smirk, "Why so interested, Your Majesty? Surely the Knights' stories of quests and vanquished demons aren't that boring."

Arthur scowled (almost playfully), "I assure you, Merlin, they are far less dull than watching you…mend tack?" the last phrase a question, as the prince eyed the saddle and bridle his manservant had drawn into his lap.

Merlin rolled his eyes, "How observant, Sire. I'll ignore the 'far less dull' part." He repressed a pleased grin, turning his attention first to the saddle (while internally blessing his foresight to bring along a set of tools better geared towards saddlery than…the smaller project he'd worked on these last few months).

He blinked when the Crown Prince shuffled closer to him on the log and picked up the bridle to place it in his own lap, choosing the appropriate tool from where Merlin had already laid them out in front of himself.

After a stunned moment of gaping as Arthur set to work, Merlin finally managed, "Seeking to make yourself useful, my Liege?"

This time, Arthur rolled his eyes, "Despite your belief to the contrary, Merlin, I do know how to take care of myself."

Scowling, Merlin demanded, "Why don't you then?" He tugged irritably at a loose strap on the saddle. "All those times you've ordered me to dress you-!"

Arthur affected haughtiness, but a faint blush rather obliterated it, "My reasons are my own, Merlin. I do not need to explain them to you."

The younger man huffed, "I am sure."

Silence fell between them, filled with Merlin's annoyed grousing beneath his breath and Arthur's amusement at that grousing. Only the pop of the sticks as the fire consumed them intruded into their clearing.

When the prince next spoke, his voice carried a deceptively careless tone, "Is it really so bad, Merlin?"

Startled for the second time in as many minutes, Merlin set the saddle down on his knee and glanced up at his companion in surprise. "Arthur?" asked with a furrowed brow.

"Serving me," Arthur clarified softly, and in those two words, gave himself away.

Frowning, Merlin reached out to touch the prince's wrist. Arthur stilled, staring down at Merlin's gloved fingers with as much shock as he had displayed early this morning.

When Arthur cautiously glanced up, expression guarded, Merlin met his eyes evenly. "No," stated with far more conviction and honesty than the manservant cared to admit, "it isn't."

I am happy to serve you until the day I die.

Merlin's words to Arthur during the incident with the Questing Beast echoed between them. As the prince ducked his head, Merlin was fairly sure he caught a glimpse of a genuine smile gracing Arthur's lips as the older boy returned his attention to mending the bridle.

He received confirmation of it when Arthur spoke again, a smirk inherent in his words, "Good, then you won't object to the list of chores I give you tonight."

Immediately, Merlin jerked his head up, scowling fiercely, "Arthur-!"

Arthur's rich laughter poured out around their clearing, causing a few nearby knights to glance up curiously from their own fires. After a startled second, Merlin realized he'd just been royally had (quite literally).

Snorting derisively, but unable to quite smother his own smile, the warlock pointed the (long and rather thick) needle he'd been holding directly at his prince's nose, "You. Are. A. Prat."

As it glinted in the firelight, Arthur grinned and grabbed the needle with his gloved palm, gently lowering it to rest against the saddle, "Careful, or the Knights may think you're committing treason."

Merlin rolled his eyes, pushing the needle carefully back through the leather, "Well, you'll just have to defend me, then, won't you? Dollop head."

He received a roguish smirk for all his efforts, "Of course."

The flames reflected orange and warm on their faces as Merlin companionably bumped his shoulder into Arthur's, the smirk remaining on the prince's lips long after they'd begun mending the tack again. Merlin would have been content to keep it so, but after a short period of (surprisingly) comfortable silence, Arthur spoke up again, his words measured and tactful, "You have yet to ask me where we are going, Merlin."

Merlin shrugged, frowning as he wrestled with a particularly stubborn stitch, "To be perfectly honest, I assumed I would find out when we got there. From what Gaius told me, a tour of the realm can last up to a month or more, and most of the villages will receive a royal visit at some point on the journey."

Arthur nodded (although Merlin did not see it), and reached out to hold the strap in place as Merlin interwove it with the others that made up the saddle. Once Merlin had muttered his thanks, and Arthur felt he had at least half his manservant's attention again, the prince murmured, "We'll be close to Ealdor, you know."

Merlin yelped as he pushed the needle a little too hard through the leather and it impacted his palm. "What?" he demanded, dropping the tool to nurse his hand.

Arthur didn't answer, frowning as he immediately grabbed the appendage in question and yanked at the glove.

Merlin tried to wave him off, more than a little flustered, "Arthur, I'm fine. You just-"

The glove came off to reveal the warlock's hand, clenched a bit in an attempt to ward off the pain, but no stickiness apparent on the skin. Arthur blew out a breath, "Such a girl's petticoat, I swear. There isn't any blood—you will have a respectable bruise, though."

Merlin snorted, shoving a little at the prince's shoulder before reclaiming his hand, "I could have told you that."

Immediately, he replaced the glove, trying ignore Arthur's smirk and raised eyebrows. Cheeks flushed, Merlin had to defend himself and his apparent attachment to the gloves, "Well, it is cold out!"

"Indeed," Arthur observed, well-pleased.

At his manservant's scowl, the Crown Prince shrugged and started working on the bridle again. Once Merlin had achieved bringing some sort of order to his swirling thoughts, the warlock posed a delicate question that did a horrible job concealing his sudden curiosity: "Why did you mention Ealdor? By now, the mountain passes have been blocked with snow. It's unlikely we'd be able to cross them until late spring, at the earliest."

Arthur raised his head, eyebrows furrowing in honest concern, "Are the mountains really so unpassable at this time of year?"

"Just a bit, yeah," Merlin confirmed softly, tugging at a strap to tighten it. He brushed back a wayward dark bang as he started in on another one, "We're surrounded on almost all sides by hills and mountains."

Arthur actually set the bridle down in his lap at this revelation, blue eyes bright with a worry he tried to hide, "By all the gods…how do you receive supplies?"

The warlock shrugged, "We make do. We always have. It's not like Cenred ever really bothers with us, anyway. We're too far East and far too isolated for supply trains to easily reach us. Not that Cenred's exactly inclined to share."

A startled, amused smile (albeit slightly overshadowed with worry) crooked Arthur's lips, "True enough. However, Merlin…"

"Hmm?" part of Merlin's tongue stuck out as he inserted a particularly tricky lace back into the saddle.

"Ealdor's no longer actually part of Cenred's kingdom, you know-"

Perhaps it was inevitable that a second yelp followed on the heels of the first, "Arthur-!"

IOIOIOIOIOI

Two hours had passed since Arthur, Merlin, and most of the Knights retired to their tents. Merlin rolled over onto his back beneath his woolen blanket, a soft sigh exiting his lips as he attempted to find a comfortable position on the ground and tried not to disturb Arthur in the process.

Royal sod has a camp bed. Of course.

His ill humor, however, did little to deter his thoughts from whirling over and over in several different directions.

He no longer knew what to think of Arthur. Had even said as much to the older boy earlier tonight, after his not-so-tactful announcement of the fact that Uther had annexed Ealdor at the behest of the Crown Prince (and had had it annexed for nigh six months now):

"Will you stop doing that?" Merlin cried in exasperation, nursing his right index finger in addition to his palm now.

"Sorry," Arthur muttered, amused, setting down the fully-mended bridle.

Merlin barely processed the honest apology, let alone the fact that half his evening chores had already been completed for him (well, sort of), "First, it was new clothing. Then , it was helping me with my chores. Now , it's the fact that you convinced your father to annex Ealdor six months ago …! What's next?" challenged. "You plan to become a farmer and raise horses?!"

Two rapid blinks and Arthur murmured incredulously, "How did you-?"

Merlin flushed all the way to the roots of his hair, realizing he'd perhaps been a little more insightful than he'd intended, " Arthur …!"

Unable to help himself, Arthur snorted, then laughed, "I'd like to raise horses, yes, but I am not planning on abdicating the throne anytime soon. You know, you could have just said ' thank you ,' Merlin."

"And swell your head even more than it is already?" Merlin demanded tartly, wrestling once again with the saddle. "I'll pass, thanks."

"Well, since it's apparent I'm unappreciated here…" Arthur's voice was pure teasing and he stood, stretching out the kinks he'd acquired in his back. "I think I'll just return to the tent. You know, where there is a warm fire going and blankets to wrap up in…"

Merlin opened his mouth to snap a sassy retort, but Arthur interrupted him by making an abrupt, aborted movement that looked like he might have wanted to lean down and…do whatever he'd intended to do, if he hadn't decided against it. Instead, he playfully hauled Merlin's hood up and over his head, before slipping away in the direction of the tents with a chuckle.

The warlock found himself left sitting there, blinking rapidly as he attempted to process what had just happened.

(End Flashback)

Merlin still did not know what exactly had happened during those last few minutes Arthur had been sitting with him on the log. It occurred to the warlock, however, as he turned over onto his side and watched the fire-flicker play across (he thought) Arthur's slumbering body, that perhaps the reason his prince had sought him in the first place was because, for some reason, he desired Merlin's company.

Blowing out another soft breath, Merlin shuffled around on the ground and pulled his covers up to his chin. As a matter of fact, Arthur's seemed much more…cheerful?…this year. If that makes sense. Is that even possible? I mean…this is Arthur—

"Merlin."

Merlin barely smothered yet another yelp as Arthur's sleep-fogged voice spoke up from behind him.

"I can hear you thinking all the way from my cot. Go to sleep. If you're too cold to sleep, then join me up here. Whatever you do, stop moving, even stop breathing too loudly if you can."

Merlin would have had a smart comeback for that, he was sure. If he hadn't been so stunned by the offer inherent in Arthur's words.

"…What?" he breathed, after a short, slightly strained silence. "Arthur, what are you…why…?"

Merlin sensed his companion rolling his eyes, even in the dark, "I've no desire to deal with your whinging in the morning. So either get up here or go to sleep."

Another beat of silence: "…I'm fine," somewhat strangled.

The covers shuffled as Arthur shrugged, tone all but unreadable, "Your choice. I offered."

Merlin decided not to point out it was the offer he had an issue with. "You're such a prat," he whispered instead, albeit with little ire behind it.

His rucksack and all its contents pushed into the back of his head.

End Midwinter's Tidings (Part 2)

Chapter Text

II: Midwinter's Tidings (Part 3)

SECOND NIGHT

Wet and cold woke Merlin (rather abruptly) the next morning. He sputtered awake and upright, blankets (because somehow he'd acquired a second one over the course of the night) falling to pool in his lap.

His gaze fell on Arthur, who stood near the entrance of the tent, looking a little damp around the edges and fighting desperately to keep upright as he watched Merlin attempt to gather his bearings.

Merlin would have worried, except it soon became obvious that Arthur fought against laughter, nothing more or less.

That, coupled with the moisture flowing freely down his neck and the sides of his cheeks (and the white snowflakes drifting around lazily outside), told Merlin that Arthur had most likely chosen to wake him with a one-sided snowball fight.

"Your Royal Highness has approximately three seconds to run…" Merlin growled.

A beautiful smirk spread across Arthur's lips, inviting Merlin to try, before he darted backwards out the tent flaps with a hastily smothered laugh as the younger boy lunged at him, blankets spilling to the ground.

As Merlin burst out of the tent on his heels, he vaguely took note of the pink coloring the edges of the sky and realized it was early enough that most of the knights would still be abed. Which meant none (perhaps) would be awake to see their Crown Prince revert to a small child as his manservant chased him through the swiftly falling snow.

Merlin wondered—belatedly—if Arthur had woken him early for precisely that reason.

Wondering, however, was best left for cold evenings by the fireside. With Arthur only steps ahead of him (he must have grown faster with all the chasing he and Arthur had done at Camelot), Merlin gave a triumphant sort of yell and threw himself forward, tackling his laughing prince around the waist and sending them both careening into the accumulating snow.

"There," he puffed, finally managing to wrestle Arthur into submission. "Show you why it's unfair to wake your harmless manservant with a snowball."

Arthur snorted, rolling them over so that he pinned Merlin to the snow.

(He'd let Merlin catch him, the noble prat.)

"Harmless," scoffed softly, if fondly, "I am not sure that's the word I would use."

Merlin shoved him off and back into the snow, rolling up and onto his elbow to fling cold, wet precipitation at the older boy's face. "What word would you use, then, Sire?" he asked with a fond snort of his own.

Merlin's hair had gone stringy, wet with snow and hanging in his eyes. Arthur's fingers reached out as if to brush it away, only to have their owner abort the movement and curl them into an uncertain fist.

Merlin blinked, almost sure he had imagined the movement (and the intention behind it), "Arthur, did you just…?"

Hastily, Arthur climbed to his feet, turning away to hide the flush that had crept across the bridge of his nose, "Of course not, Merlin. You're imagining things."

Merlin raised an eyebrow and scowled, not entirely convinced. He decided to let it go for once (at least for now), and chose instead to struggle to his feet from where he'd landed in the snow during their final bout of rough-housing: "Can't be bothered to help me up, can you?" he demanded irritably (it was, after all, still quite early in the morning).

Arthur finally turned back to him, wearing his comfortable, rather more familiar smirk, the color in his cheeks from the cold and not embarrassment, "Certainly. If you wish snow in your tunic, Merlin."

Merlin rolled his eyes, now fully standing, and brushed himself off, "Not that it would matter, clot pole. You already got snow down my tunic, and it's wet and cold!" exclaimed indignantly as he shook it out.

Arthur smirked, by now headed back towards camp without waiting for the manservant to catch up, "Then return to the tent and get changed, cabbage head."

"Get changed," Merlin snorted, thinking about the three remaining sets of clothes he owned and watching Arthur's retreating back with a slightly hurt expression, "right."

Where does he get off, anyway, acting like we're friends one minute, and nothing more than the prince and his manservant the next?

His heart gave an uncomfortable thud as his mind suddenly tripped over that thought.

I…didn't realize it mattered so much, but really …

When he returned to Arthur's tent, found his blankets rolled up and haphazardly stacked, and discovered a set of sloppily folded clothing that he certainly did not recognize sitting on top of them, he began to really wonder.

More clothing? Arthur…by all the gods, what are you trying to tell me? What are you up to?

Anyone could have left the clothes there, but Merlin knew—in a way that would forever be exclusive to Arthur—that his prince bore the responsibility.

An amused snort from behind Merlin startled him so badly that he stumbled forward into the tent, Arthur on his heels.

"I was wondering how long you'd stand there. They're clothes, Merlin. Surely you recognize that…"

(Of course the condescending idiot knew exactly what he'd been staring at all along.)

Frowning fiercely, Merlin whirled on Arthur, hugging himself tightly as he attempted to stare down the Crown Prince, "What are they for?" demanded.

Arthur, damn him, merely raised an eyebrow as he took in the shivering form of his manservant standing in the middle of the tent, "To wear," stated plainly.

Merlin scowled, stuffing his hands underneath his arms in an attempt to warm them, "I-I know that!" he managed through chattering teeth.

Arthur snorted, wandering over to where Merlin had left his gloves near the brazier last night, and (after picking the gloves up) tossed them at the younger man's face, "So wear them, idiot. Can't have you fainting in the middle of making my breakfast, after all."

Merlin's scowl morphed into a glare, and he yanked at the two cloaks (his original and the one received from Arthur) he'd worn to keep warm the previous evening. By the time he'd started to unlace his tunic, Merlin felt thoroughly fed up with the older man.

Because of his pique, the warlock expected anything but what happened next.

A sudden, brilliant blush suffused Arthur's cheeks, and the prince whipped around, hurriedly turning his back to his companion as the younger man undressed: "Merlin!" he snapped (almost, a bemused Merlin noted, nervously). "You should have waited until I left!"

Merlin rolled his eyes, hastily pulling his now unlaced and still damp tunic over his head, replacing it with the new one, "So leave. It's not like you've never seen me without a tunic on."

"Only when you were ill or injured!" Arthur growled, keeping his back very firmly to his manservant, but Merlin still heard the scowl in his voice, "And I have no particular desire to remember that!"

"Why?" Merlin snorted, yanking on the new breeches and doing them up, "Because you were disgusted by the view?"

Arthur whirled around, apparently forgetting his own embarrassment in a fit of temper, and Merlin nearly took a step back at the fury that darkened his expression, "No, you idiot! More like absolutely terrified!" snapped harshly.

Uncomfortable silence immediately fell between them.

Arthur apparently had not meant to say that last bit out loud, as the blush returned full force, and Merlin certainly had not expected to hear it. But the words were there, and they could not be taken back.

Instantly, the Crown Prince whisked back around, clearly intending to leave the tent before the atmosphere grew anymore awkward.

Merlin could not let him. Would not let this turn into another of those situations they laughed off:

"Arthur."

Merlin's hand shot out to grab the prince's sleeve, pulling the older man up short. He opened his mouth, "I-"

With perhaps the most impeccable timing ever, the tent flaps flew open to admit Sir Leon.

"Your Majesty-" the head knight began, but paused, as he took note of the unraveling situation in front of him. "Is this a bad time?" asked delicately.

Gently, Arthur brushed Merlin's fingers off his sleeve and took a step forward, "No, Leon, it's fine. What is it that you needed?"

Sir Leon grimaced apologetically, most of that expression directed at Merlin, "My apologies, Your Majesty, but Sir Ector has requested your presence in his tent so that you might review our projected path."

Merlin would have expected Arthur to jump at the chance to escape the increasingly uncomfortable nature of this situation. As it turned out, the prince more than eagerly made his way towards the tent entrance, but as soon as the tips of his boots touched Merlin's temporarily discarded cloaks, he paused.

Stiffly, he stooped down and picked up the clothing, pulling it into his arms.

A second later, Merlin found his two (slightly sodden) cloaks all but thrust into his arms.

Arthur did not quite look at him as he turned away, an all-too-prominent blush still highlighting his cheeks, "Finish changing, Merlin. Then join the squires at one of the fires to make my breakfast. I'm famished."

Before Merlin could retort with something particularly witty (namely, how he had never really starved a day in his life), Arthur hastily departed the tent. Sir Leon followed him, tilting his head to Merlin in rueful apology, before exiting in the Crown Prince's wake.

As the tent flaps silently fell shut behind Camelot's head knight, Merlin found himself alone, clutching his damp cloaks to his chest, and scowling at empty air.

IOIOIOIOIOI

All throughout breakfast preparation, breaking camp, and their journey that second day, Merlin brooded on the morning's events, paying little attention to even the remarks of the pages and squires who had accompanied their knights on this journey.

(None of them had ever particularly admired his build, and were not terribly impressed by his fighting capabilities—or, well, lack thereof. Although, as to that, he had begun to fix it—slowly—step by step.)

By the time the knights had set up that night's encampment, Merlin had retreated from the central fires, and settled near the outskirts of camp where the watch had been set.

Neither of the knights on duty paid him any mind and, in fact, moved to an adjacent fire. Whether they wished to give him his privacy (especially as a proverbial storm cloud seemed have hung around him all day), or whether they simply did not care for his company, either way Merlin returned the favor, ignoring them, and leaving them to their own entertainment.

In his lap, he'd spread the nearly finished product of the past few months' labor, and had laid the tools he used to accomplish it around his feet. For a little while, he merely sat there, staring down at the two pieces he had poured every moment of his spare time (and there weren't many) into crafting.

Finally, with a sigh, he picked up the first tool and began working.

Despite the fact that Arthur has acted like a massive prat today, I don't want to stop working on them, or leave them unfinished…

After all, there were moments (like the snowball fight this morning, and that little exchange in the tent afterwards) that Merlin cherished from the day's travels. They were glimpses into the person—the man, the king—he knew Arthur could one day become.

Merlin had not realized he wanted more, recognition as Arthur's equal, as Arthur's friend, until today; and it had led to more than a little discomfort on the journey here.

I expected too much. I must have. Or else, why would Arthur act as he did last night one moment, and so utterly indifferent and haughty the next?

That wasn't his Arthur, who listened to a servant's word over a knight's simply because he believed the servant deserved acknowledgement.

So enmeshed in his swirling thoughts was he that Merlin did not notice the two knights snapping to attention as their superior approached them (well, approached Merlin): "Your mind is wandering, my friend. Have the squires really been so unbearable?"

Merlin barely bit back a yelp, his teeth piercing his tongue in a white-hot flash of pain. Instantly, he jerked his head up, blue eyes wide as they fell on Sir Leon in front of him. Fortunately, although his hand jolted, it did not skid, and therefore did not scour the leather in his lap.

When Merlin finally registered the identity of his companion, he blew out a heavy breath and allowed his shoulders to relax: "Leon…" murmured gratefully. "I thought you were Arthur."

Leon merely raised an eyebrow at that interesting tidbit of information, nodding politely to the unoccupied space on Merlin's left, "May I?"

Merlin sighed, shuffling slightly as he rearranged himself (and his project) on the log, "Please do."

Sweeping his cloak and cape behind him, Leon gracefully sat beside him. He peered at Merlin's project with a small smile, "How goes it? I must confess…I did not recognize those as a vambrace set at first. In fact," he examined them with a light frown, "I do not believe I have ever seen that vambrace set."

Merlin chuckled self-consciously, "That's because you haven't. I made this…er, well, I learned to make this from Gwen. She helped me set the base, and left the tooling up to me."

Comprehension dawned on the head knight's face, "Guinevere, Lady Morgana's maidservant? The armorer's daughter?"

"The very same," Merlin replied with a small smile at the thought of his dear friend (and her impatience with Merlin's somewhat stunted leather-working skills). "It is for someone we both hold in…high regard."

A knowing smile graced Leon's lips, "Ah, I know the one."

(Whether the "one" he referred to was Gwen or Arthur, Merlin did not quite dare speculate.)

With a sigh, Merlin rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to the vambrace in his lap, "It's just these last parts of this design…"

(And the spells, but Merlin would not mention that.)

Leon peered over his shoulder, "May I help?"

Startled, Merlin blinked, lowering his hand to stare at the head knight, "Leon…?" a drawn out question.

Faint blush washed over the older man's cheeks, "You seem…very distracted this evening, Merlin. I daresay engaging you in our swords' practice is not a wise idea with your mind wandering as it is."

"Practice…?" for a moment Merlin looked utterly befuddled, before comprehension dawned and mortification suffused his face with red, "Practice! I am so sorry, Leon, I completely-!"

Leon chuckled weakly, stilling Merlin's agitated momentum upwards with a hand on his arm, "Peace, my friend. As I said, you are distracted this evening, and that is not conducive to swordsmanship, nor is it anything you need apologize for. I believe I may know the cause of your...preoccupation, but perhaps you might appreciate the chance to voice your thoughts…?" he gestured to the vambrace in Merlin's hand, and the tool that accompanied it.

Merlin blew out a breath, "I would, I think." Gingerly he handed the vambrace and the metal implement to Leon, carefully turning it over to display the design he had begun to stencil into the leather which would protect the most vulnerable part of the wearer's wrists, "See, here? I am doing a design that-"

But Leon had already seen, and the head knight drew in a sharp breath, darting bright green eyes up to Merlin's blue, "Oh, my friend…He will like this."

Upon receiving confirmation that Leon knew exactly for whom the vambraces were intended, Merlin blushed furiously, "I hope so. I really hope so, Leon, but I-"

A knowing gleam entered Leon's eyes as he accepted the project, and the tools he would need to work on it, "Ah, might this be a part of those thoughts that have driven you to distraction all day?"

Merlin had not thought his blush could grow any worse. It did.

"All day…?" Merlin looked rather abashed. "Have I really been so obvious?"

Leon smiled gently, "Just slightly, Merlin. Even our prince noticed you were, '…liable to throw a shoe, the cabbage-headed idiot,' I believe his words were to me. I do not believe I even know what a 'cabbage-head' is…"

Merlin scowled, and scrubbed a hand over his face. Tiredly, he rubbed at his eyes, "That clot-pole. Trust him to notice a thing like that and not mention a word of it to me."

Leon's face softened, even as he began to stencil over the traced pattern Merlin had left on the vambrace in his hand, "Merlin…"

"Hmm…?"

Leon waited until Merlin looked up and met his gaze, "Prince Arthur has watched you all day, my friend. I do not believe he would want me to tell you this, but he was never terribly far from your side when we traversed a particularly icy or otherwise treacherous part of our path. Just in case."

Merlin's blush, which had begun to fade, now rushed back full-force, "I…What…?"

The head knight gave his forearm a squeeze, setting down the vambrace he had been working on, "You are confused because his actions towards you are not consistent, yes?"

Rather dumbstruck by the older man's insight, Merlin nodded.

Leon's voice (and expression) turned earnest, once it became apparent he had the manservant's full attention, "I have seen him with you, Merlin. You are not like the knights or anyone he has ever known. As such, he does not act towards you like he does towards other people. I do not believe it is something he is used to or ever expected, and humans do not always...react well…to the unexpected."

Realization widened Merlin's eyes, "You mean…I frighten him?"

Leon gingerly shook his head, resuming his work, "You do not, Merlin. How much you mean to him does. And he does not always know how to react to that."

"How much I 'mean' to him?" repeated disbelievingly.

Leon gave a decisive nod, chiseling out the next line on the vambrace, "Just so."

Affected by the older man's surety, Merlin could not say a word more in objection, and for a very long time the two of them simply sat there, immersed in silence as the younger man turned the head knight's statement over and over in his mind.

(It was not, after all, something Merlin himself was used to hearing. Or even contemplating, for that matter.)

At last, the warlock drew in a deep breath, and laid his hand on the head knight's forearm, "I think I am ready to take them back now, Leon. Thank you."

A pleased smile quirked Leon's lips, as he heard the thanks Merlin had not said, "You are most welcome, my friend."

Once he had handed back the vambrace set (and its accompanying tools), Leon stood, and bestowed one last smile on Merlin, "Will you not return to the central fire with me? I daresay Prince Arthur could ward off any unwanted remarks from the squires."

Merlin shook his head, turning his focus to the vambrace in his lap, feeling more certain about this than he had in the past few days combined, "I would like to finish this tonight, Leon."

He was rather taken aback by the large grin that spread across the head knight's face, "Well, then…I am completely ignorant of anything resembling 'a Yule gift' unless otherwise told by His Highness." Leon reached down to touch Merlin's shoulder, growing rather more serious, "Do not sit out too late, my friend. The wilds are no place to be caught unawares, despite a man's prowess with a sword."

He eyed the two knights (now with one squire) sitting not far off from the fire he and Merlin had shared, trying desperately to conceal their curiosity about what their superior and the Crown Prince's manservant might possibly have to talk about.

Merlin smothered a laugh as the two men (and one teenager) snapped their eyes back to the forest that surrounded them, "Absolutely, Leon."

A wink towards Merlin that their companions did not see, and Camelot's head knight strode purposefully back to the central fire, where Prince Arthur all but danced with impatience hear what Leon had to say about his manservant.

End Midwinter's Tidings (Part 3)

Chapter Text

II: Midwinter's Tidings (Part 4)

YULE NIGHT (PART 1)

"Merlin!" his hissed name in his ear and a rough shake of his shoulder woke the warlock (rather abruptly) the next morning. "Merlin!"

He bolted up halfway into a sitting position, spell at the tip of his tongue…and nearly cracked heads with Arthur, who hovered above him.

"Uh…? Art'ur?" slurred as he struggled awake.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Enjoyed your beauty sleep?" but the sally somehow lacked the ire Merlin would have expected (especially after last night). If anything, Arthur seemed embarrassed, "I…Come outside a moment, yeah?"

Merlin groaned, flopping an arm over his eyes in a futile attempt to ward off the winter dawn's rays, "I don't really fancy it, thanks."

Arthur raised an eyebrow (Merlin knew he did), "It wasn't a request, Merlin."

Merlin snorted, rolling over onto his stomach and dimly taking note that his covers had once again doubled at some point during the night, "No?" muttered. "I thought it was."

Arthur rolled his eyes again, the hands that had apparently rested on Merlin's shoulders the entire time abruptly tightening as the prince gently hauled his manservant upright, "Get up, Merlin," emphasized by a firm squeeze of his shoulders.

Merlin batted vaguely at him, "I am up. Let go, you prat."

Arthur released him, "You really shouldn't be allowed to speak to me like that, you know. I'm-"

"—the Crown Prince. I know, Arthur," Merlin turned and shoved lightly at the older boy's chest. "Go away. I can stand up myself, you know."

A smirk hovered on Arthur's lips, but he did back away, "So sure, are you?"

Merlin scowled tiredly, sitting up completely and rubbing his eyes, "Bloody clot pole."

"That still isn't a word," Arthur's retort, immediate and bright, came from above him. It took Merlin a moment, but he soon realized the older boy practically vibrated with impatience where he stood in the tent's threshold.

His glare sharpened when he noticed the pink sky peeking through the open tent flaps behind the prince, "Why did you get me up so early?"

Arthur shrugged, "Because I felt like it. Come on, Merlin!" and he reached down to grab his manservant's hands.

Merlin groaned again, allowing the impatient prince to tug him to his feet, "I'm up, I'm up…!"

"Now you are," retorted smartly. When Merlin opened his mouth to counter it, Arthur hurriedly interrupted him, "Just come on!" and yanked him out of the tent.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Even Merlin's half-awake mind knew when they were headed towards the saddlebags, and although most of his hazy awareness was dedicated to wondering why Arthur had yet to let go of his hand (or his eagerness), the rest decided to just go with it and hope it meant Arthur had forgiven him for the scare he'd given Camelot's young monarch yesterday evening.

"I didn't know where you were…!"

Merlin shook his head and bit his bottom lip, still feeling vaguely guilty (even if he knew he shouldn't) for frightening Arthur enough that it had appeared in his voice.

He had, after all, only returned to their tent last night when the moon was high and full, and three successive watches had cycled through their shifts. Long past the time he usually waited on the prince.

"Here."

Merlin blinked, startled back to the present when Arthur abruptly shoved something cool and smooth into his chest.

And found himself staring down at the vambrace set he'd completed and subsequently slid into Arthur's saddlebags last night. "What's this?" murmured.

Arthur scoffed, "As if you didn't know. It's a vambrace set, Merlin."

Merlin rolled his eyes, "I am aware of that, Sire, thank you. I meant, what would you like me to do with them?"

The prince drew in a deep breath, something tremulous entering his voice, "This…this wasn't here yesterday, in my saddlebags."

Merlin played his hand carefully, gingerly holding onto the vambraces, "So sure, Your Majesty?" mimicked warmly. "You aren't the one who packed them, after all."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "I am rather certain about this, Merlin," returned dryly, "considering you have an awful poker face, even when you're not half-asleep."

Okay, Plan B, then.

Affecting a sheepish look, Merlin ducked his head, "As you say, Sire. Perhaps someone placed them there. One of your knights—Leon, maybe?"

Arthur glanced at him sharply, "Even Leon would not be so bold."

Merlin shrugged, "Perhaps he made an exception?"

Arthur watched him intently, "Perhaps…" Merlin startled, jerking his head up when the prince abruptly clasped his shoulders, "It seems unlikely, though. Merlin…you are the only one who loads and unloads my saddlebags on a daily basis. You know who it is, I know you do. Why won't you tell me? I merely wish to thank them. Surely you know this?"

Arthur looked so earnest, so genuine, that Merlin could not prevent himself from softening towards his master: "I will be sure they get your message, Arthur," murmured, as he carefully handed the vambrace set back to the prince.

The older boy accepted them, looking torn, "Merlin…"

Merlin shook his head, gently pushing the vambraces against Arthur's chest as he smiled up at him, "I promise, Arthur."

For a few long seconds, Arthur stared back at him, unsure and shy in equal measure. It was such an extraordinary look for the prince that Merlin's heart thudded dully in his chest.

Then Arthur relaxed, something almost tender entering his blue eyes. Gingerly, he pressed the right vambrace back into Merlin's palm, "Help me put it on, Merlin."

The brilliant grin that abruptly split the warlock's face may have proven too telling, "Of course, Sire."—or would have, if Arthur had not suddenly caught sight of what graced the vambrace just above the most vulnerable part of his wrist.

Arthur's sharp inhale had Merlin immediately glancing up from where he'd begun to buckle the vambrace shut, "Arthur?"

The fingers of the prince's free hand came up to lightly trace over the design, "Merlin, this is…" he trailed off, apparently unable to finish.

"A cross and a dragon?" responded dryly.

"The de Bois cross and the Pendragon dragon, you idiot," returned thickly, but with little heat.

Merlin sighed, gently nudging Arthur down until the prince's head rested on his shoulder, "Are you really so surprised, Arthur? It is likely this is from the same person who gave you your pendant last year." He placed his free hand over the pendant in question, still hanging against Arthur's heart even a year later.

Another sharply inhaled breath, and Arthur's free hand came up to press lightly against Merlin's side, "You…you think so?"

Merlin sighed again, "Yes, Arthur, I do."

"But that would mean-"

"It's another Yule gift, Arthur," answered softly.

The Crown Prince tensed and swallowed, leaning back to lift his head. Both hands rested on Merlin's sides now, and when the younger man hesitantly raised his gaze, unsure what to make of the gesture, Arthur's over bright blue eyes met his own. "Merlin…" murmured thickly. "Are you sure you can't tell me who it is?"

Merlin shrugged uncomfortably, trying not to look too affected by Arthur's emotional response, "I'm sorry, Arthur, I think they want to stay hidden."

Because of last night, Merlin expected anything but the reaction he was given.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur let his hands slide down Merlin's sides. As his manservant repressed the sudden and unexpected shiver the movement evoked, Arthur released the breath, regaining some sort of equilibrium, "I will wait until they are ready, then. Merlin…"

"Y-Yeah?" Merlin prayed his voice did sound as shaky as he felt.

Arthur pressed the second vambrace into his hand, "Finish what you started."

Hoping the Crown Prince remained unaware of just how true that statement could prove, Merlin slid the left vambrace onto its proper arm. Only after he finished buckling it did the warlock realize Arthur had remained largely silent.

Gently, he let go of Arthur's arm and glanced up warily at him, "Arthur?"

Merlin all but squeaked when the prince's hands abruptly grasped his own (red and chapped with cold as they were).

Arthur's hands were warm as he carefully turned Merlin's palm up, and his fingers splayed against the skin as he lightly traced over the veins that tracked there.

Unused to the tenderness with which Arthur touched his hands, Merlin's breath caught in his throat. "Arthur…?" murmured again.

The older boy released a short breath, raising his head to meet Merlin's eyes with a distinctly uncomfortable gaze, "Merlin, I…I was unfair to you last night, and I…that is, you..."

Slowly, ever so slowly, red crept into the prince's cheeks. Once, twice, he opened his mouth, but apparently could force no sound out of it.

Luckily, Merlin knew what he was attempting, anyway.

The gentle snort he released was probably appallingly thick, but Merlin could not bring himself to care too much when Arthur still had hold of his hands, "Don't choke on your apology, Sire," muttered warmly. "It won't mean anything if you let it kill you."

The flush that had entered Arthur's cheeks now blazed across the bridge of his nose and all the way up to the tips of his ears. A distinctly irritated cry of "Merlin!" was all the warning the manservant had, before he abruptly found himself sent careening backwards against a tree in a half-hug, half-tackle courtesy of one highly embarrassed prince.

Unable to help himself, Merlin released a bright peal of laughter that echoed throughout the clearing, struggling to free his hands enough to grab Arthur's tunic in an attempt to push him away.

The Crown Prince merely hmpf-ed, pressing his manservant more firmly against the tree and burying his cold nose in Merlin's neck, "Shut up, Merlin."

Merlin grinned and stopped his flailing, bringing his hands down to rest lightly on Arthur's shoulders, "So sorry, Your Highness, but you are atrocious at communication."

"And you have a horrible sense of self-preservation."

A lopsided smile made its way across Merlin's lips as Arthur finally released him, stepping back to quietly survey the younger man's face, "Pot, kettle, Arthur."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "I won't even pretend to know what that means."

Merlin's smile faded, becoming something much softer. Slowly, and with a great deal of hesitation, he reached up for the bangs that had fallen to hang in Arthur's eyes, "No," murmured, as he stretched out his fingertips, "no, I suppose you won't."

Arthur blinked at him, caution entering his gaze as he divined Merlin's intention: "Merlin-" he began.

At that moment, a nearby tent flap flew open and one of Arthur's knights emerged, pulling to an abrupt halt as he took note of the two boys in front of him. "Your Majesty-" he started, straightening up in the early morning light.

Merlin snapped his hand down to his side.

End Midwinter's Tidings (Part 4)