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“Before the Council of the Roundtable breaks, are there any more matters that anyone wishes to bring to our attention?”
Gaius cleared his throat softly. “Sire, there is one matter of which I believe you should take notice.”
“Indeed?” Arthur nodded encouragingly at his court physician. “Enlighten us.”
Merlin, who despite attending in his official capacity as Court Sorcerer had been daydreaming of important things since Leon had started yacking about grain, suddenly was all ears.
Gaius hadn't mentioned any concerns to Merlin. Usually he gave Merlin a forewarning if any magical shenanigans were occurring within the castle.
Merlin stared at him, hoping that some twitch of his eyebrows or a pointed look might enlighten Merlin about Gaius's concerns.
Gaius shuffled the papers before him, nodding as if to confirm his fears.
“I have noticed, this past sennight, mistletoe beginning to appear inside the Castle.”
Leon stared stone-faced at the wall. Gwen and Lancelot shifted in their seats. A smirk flittered over Morgana's face. Elyan rolled his eyes. Gwaine elbowed a head-shaking Percival, grinning like he'd just won a victory on the training field.
Arthur, alone, looked perplexed.
“Mistletoe?”
“Yes, Sire.” Gaius sipped his goblet of water, buying a few moments to collect his thoughts. “There is a custom, discouraged while your father was king but not entirely unpracticed within certain quarters-”
“A custom surrounding this plant?”
“Indeed, Sire.” If Gaius was annoyed by Arthur's interruptions, it didn't show.
Arthur was still frowning like he didn't understand. “And what does this custom entail?”
Gaius cleared his throat, unflappable as ever. “It is difficult to describe-”
“Oh for heaven's sake.” Gwaine rolled his eyes. “Snogging!”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Gwaine, you think every custom involves snogging. And ale, usually.”
“While I would not have chosen Sir Gwaine's terminology, he is correct, Sire.”
Arthur put his hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Are you trying to tell me, that someone within my castle has put up this plant and now my subjects are… kissing beneath it?”
“I'm not sure about kissing, but there's definitely been some snogging action,” Gwaine grinned, winking exaggeratedly at Leon. “Right, Leon?”
Leon's ears pinkened, but he didn't say a word. Morgana's smirk, however, grew more satisfied for a moment.
Miraculously, Arthur ignored the antics of his council. Merlin didn't know if he was grateful for that or not. Honestly it was a tossup every day whether he was annoyed with or grateful for Arthur's obliviousness.
Annoyance had been winning out this last week.
“Is this custom harmful in any way, Gaius?”
Gaius favoured him with the Eyebrow, shaking his head.
“I don't wish to discourage any festive customs this Yule,” Arthur said with that regal solemnity in his voice. “Just, for pities sake, make sure whomever you're under this plant with wishes to be kissed before you do so. I will not stand for anyone feeling uncomfortable.”
“Well said, Arthur,” Morgana smiled, really having come into her own since Arthur had repealed the ban on magic - and recognised her as Crown Princess.
“Very kingly pronouncement, Princess,” Gwaine praised, munching on an apple he'd pulled from thin air.
Merlin thought so too. Arthur had blossomed into the great king he was always destined to be. Especially when it was a custom he had never encountered before.
Wait.
Oh no.
Arthur had never heard of the Yuletide custom of kissing under mistletoe.
And Merlin had-
Oh, that was just bloody fantastic.
“Are you quite well, Merlin?” Arthur's voice came to Merlin as if from across the training field, distant but impossible to ignore.
“Never better,” Merlin squeaked, coughing to clear his throat.
“Hoping for a snog under the mistletoe, Merlin?” Gwaine whispered in his ear, Merlin shoving him away.
“Hoping to have your hair hexed off for Yule?” Merlin returned sweetly, Gwaine running a hand automatically through his lucious locks.
Arthur rose to his feet. “Before we have a repeat of last council's roughhousing, I suggest we call an end to this session,” he announced, adjusting the line of his scabbard. “Knights, since Gwaine has so much energy for teasing my Court Sorcerer, training will begin in ten minutes.”
A chorus of groans and glares at Gwaine followed Arthur's pronouncement, Gwaine utterly unrepentant as ever.
Arthur bent down over Merlin, his warmth cocooning him a beat. “Make sure there's nothing nefariously magical about that mistletoe, Merlin. And stop daydreaming when Leon's talking about grain - if I have to pay attention so do you.”
Merlin made a face at Arthur's back. “Prat,” he called, laughter tripping off his tease.
“That's King Prat to you, Merlin.”
“You're right, you are the King of prats.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, laughing as he led his knights out of the chamber. “Shut up, Merlin!”
Merlin watched the Knights go, trailing out after them with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
All that work. All that planning. Picking perfect locations, and Arthur had no chuffing clue what was going on.
On the bright side, Merlin had been handed a legitimate reason to be near the mistletoe. On the downside, the certainty he'd once had in his master plan was gone.
He'd had it all planned out, Merlin silently mourned, using a sneaky burst of magic to affix a sprig of mistletoe above the entrance to the training grounds. Hang up mistletoe around the castle (not just in the areas most frequented by Arthur because the goal was not to make Arthur suspicious), Arthur would notice it. The idea would formulate in Arthur's mind. And one day, they'd happen to be leaving a room at the same time - as they often did - and Arthur would seize his chance.
A perfect, flawless plan.
For everyone, apparently, but Merlin.
Now that Merlin looked, he could see it everywhere. People kissing under his mistletoe. Cook and the Master of the Hounds. Two servants who had recently begun courting. Elyan being besieged by the ladies of the court, the centre of their affections and thriving with it.
Gwaine offering kisses on the cheek to blushing maids and harried manservants until Percival showed them all how it was done - pushing Gwaine against the wall and kissing him breathless.
Lancelot kissing Gwen outside the main hall with all the tenderness of an honest man in love.
Leon caught outside the doors to the armoury, presenting a very courtly kiss to Morgana's cheek. Morgana rolling her eyes, muttering something only Leon could hear, and pulling the First Knight in for - what Merlin had to wholeheartedly agree with Gwaine was - a very thorough (and mutual) snog.
But was Merlin ever one of those happy people under the mistletoe? No, he wasn't!
Fate, destiny, even the Great bloody Dragon - Merlin was sure they were all laughing at him. Having a good chuckle at his misfortune.
Putting up festive cheer and being one of the only poor bastards not being kissed under it.
After everything he'd done for Camelot, the least he deserved was a bit of a break. For fate and destiny to toss him a bone once in a while.
All Merlin could do was appear to follow his King's request. The perfect excuse for hovering around the mistletoe - and for surreptitiously putting more up in the places a certain oblivious clotpole was likely to go.
Days this went on for. Days. Days of Merlin loitering around the mistletoe, letting his eyes flash gold every now and then just so word would get back to Arthur that Merlin was doing his job and not just being one of the Castle inhabitants to be fond of the festive custom.
Days of wandering the corridors, refreshing the location of the mistletoe. Watching other people have their kisses. Looking up every time a red cloak swooshed past, hoping that Arthur had-
Well. Nevermind.
It wasn't that Merlin didn't see Arthur. They spent time together every day - most mealtimes and for most of the evenings. But that was official duty time, or their friendship time. They bantered and bickered as usual, debated how best to keep the kingdom running, they just never crossed that line. Never did anything that took them from friends to … more.
Merlin wanted that more. He wanted more with every breath he drew. And he knew he should - as Morgana bluntly suggested - get over himself and just tell Arthur already. He just wanted Arthur to be the one to make that choice.
Merlin would only gain by choosing Arthur. Arthur was King, he had Camelot and the succession to consider - even with Morgana recognised, choosing Merlin would require some degree of sacrifice. Merlin needed Arthur to be sure. So, he led, hinted, but wouldn't ask for more than Arthur was ready to give.
Even if it did feel like he was slowly losing his mind.
Late one afternoon, while Arthur was supposed to be training the Knights (because keeping sharp is important even in the midst of winter), Merlin found himself outside the Roundtable Chamber. He'd discovered some fresh mistletoe in the woods earlier, and it seemed a shame not to hang some outside the council chambers. At the very least Gwaine and Morgana would both find it useful - even if Merlin wouldn't.
Standing back a pace, Merlin tilted his head. With squinted eyes, he made sure that the mistletoe sprig was hanging in the exact centre of the doorway. All the better for it to fulfill its festive destiny.
“There's something that has been puzzling me, Merlin.” Arthur's voice sounded at Merlin's ear, nearly making him jump out of his skin.
“If you still need the birds and bees talk, Arthur, I'll go fetch Gaius.”
Arthur sighed, like putting up with Merlin's snark was such a chore - rather than the highlight of his day Merlin knew it was. “My father gave that to me. I didn't look him in the eye until my next birthday.” Arthur shuddered dramatically. “And you're supposed to have asked what has been puzzling me.”
Out of the corner of his eye, the mistletoe danced in a non-existent breeze. Traitor.
“What has been puzzling you, Arthur?” Merlin asked dutifully, his tone petulantly flat.
Arthur leaned against the wall, grinning at Merlin like the Knights when they'd successfully pinched food from the kitchens. “Which of my subjects would have begun this festive custom.”
“Gwaine,” Merlin said with authority, ignoring the fact that Arthur had probably just caught him red-handed.
Arthur hummed. “I did consider Gwaine. And my dear sister. Yet if they want to kiss someone, they don't need to hide behind a Yuletide custom to do it.”
Merlin scowled. Damn him, that was perfectly true.
“Elyan, then,” Merlin suggested, nodding decisively. “He's been very popular since the mistletoe-”
“Merlin.” Arthur pushed off the wall, veritably prowling towards him. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice you've been putting mistletoe up around the castle?” He tsked, his eyes sparkling wickedly. “If you wanted me to kiss you, Merlin, you could have just asked.”
Merlin scoffed, ignoring the tell-tale prickling of his ears. "With a head that big I'm surprised you can fit through the castle doors.“ He mimicked Leon's best unimpressed with the entire universe look. ”Not everything is about you."
Arthur didn't even raise to the bait. Just stared evenly at Merlin, undeterred from his course. Irritating regal prat.
“I love a hunt as much as the next man,” Arthur said, Merlin blinking at the non-sequitur. “But, something about hunting, Merlin. There's no need to hunt something which is already yours.”
Arthur's hand cupped his cheek, their lips meeting softly. The kiss was tentative, gentle, at odds with the confidence Arthur had exuded moments before.
Merlin smiled against Arthur's lips, giddiness sparkling within his skin. “I already have you, do I?” he grinned, so happy he had to look down to make sure they weren't actually floating.
“Oh, shut up, Merlin.” Arthur kissed him again. And there was nothing sweet or tentative about it this time. This kiss was everything.
At the other end of the corridor, the Knights, Morgana and Gwen exchanged purses. Some triumphant, some complaining, all happy for them. Training was cancelled, and dinner was a very smug affair. But there had never been a happier Yule in Camelot than there was that year. Well, until the next Yule.
And if this was a fairy tale, Merlin would say they lived happily ever after.