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Merlin was going to kill Arthur Pendragon.
Not only he had to get up at the crack of dawn after a late night magic lesson with Morgana, but he also had to join His Royal Ass to an impromptu hunting trip so Arthur could get away from his father's demanding sight for a few days.
He also came up with this brilliant idea when everything was covered in a thick layer of snow.
Yeah, Merlin was absolutely going to kill that prat.
At least Arthur had the decency to provide him with proper clothing this time, after a similar stunt managed to land Merlin in his chambers for a sennight, hauled up among blankets with a runny nose and occasional fever, unable to even move his arms with how weak he had been. Once he got back on his feet, Arthur actually treated him with care for a few days, only giving him menial tasks which usually took place indoors, near a fire. He also gifted some of his own winter clothes to the servant, which all had one or two conveniently placed tears, otherwise easily mended. Merlin really appreciated the gesture (even though he was half-convinced that Morgana threatened the Prince), feeling as though Arthur finally got it through his thick skull that going on random hunting trips never ended well.
Seemed like the lesson didn't stick.
Morgana's next task will be to jinx some rashes on his face, Merlin thought as he tried to disappear into his coat as he trotted on his horse next to Arthur, with Gwaine, Percival and Leon following closely behind. They were the only ones crazy enough to join this madness – or the ones who believed Arthur and Merlin couldn't be left on their own, it wasn't clear. They were already half a day away from the castle among the slowly steeps of Ascetir and he couldn't feel his fingers or toes, his nose was redder than an apple and the cold wind bothered his eyes. He really missed his warm bed.
“Alright, this should do,” Arthur declared as he slid down from the saddle next to a small stream. “Gather the hunting gear and leave the horses here. We continue on foot.”
“Did you also bring some stilts as well?” Gwaine grumbled. “Because there's no way we're gonna be able to walk through this snow on our own.”
“We don't need to walk far,” Arthur said as he tied Llamrei's reins to a low branch. “This stream ends leads to a small lake which stays unfrozen throughout the winter. Animals go there to get fresh water, we just need to wait for them from a ridge.”
“Don't expect big game,” Leon added. “If we catch a few rabbits or even a boar, we could count ourselves lucky.”
“I just hope this will be quick so we can go back,” Merlin muttered under his nose. “Why am I here again?”
“Someone needs to carry our equipment,” Arthur snapped at him. “And any game we might have. Stop being such a girl, Merlin.”
“I'll give you girl, you clotpole,” Merlin glared at him, thinking about Morgana and the absolute delight on her face when he tells her what they'll do next. He usually didn't allow her to practice on Arthur (not just because he didn't know about their magic), but this time he would make an exception.
Thankfully the knights were kinder than that, because they all carried their own weapons and trapping tools, so Merlin only had to bring Arthur's hundred weapons. He intentionally took longer to get them all off from Llamrei's saddle bag, so he could use Percival's trail to follow them. The snow was knee high, crunching under their every step, echoing in the dead forest. A pheasant shot up from somewhere, flying away without any disturbance, but other than that, everything was quiet.
They eventually reached the cliff from where they could scour the entire lake. The first time he visited, Merlin's jaw dropped with how beautiful it was – a little gem hidden among the green canopies and great mountain ridges, reflecting the sunlight like a thousand diamonds. It was as enchanting as it had been before, now surrounded by white wherever he looked. He couldn't fully enjoy, however, because Arthur demanded to have his crossbow and ordered the knights to spread out to other cliff to cover more ground.
“Merlin, you go set up the traps at the opening of this rift,” the Prince demanded. “If you mess it up on purpose, I'll send you to the stocks for the night.”
“Nice to know you care,” Merlin murmured, rubbing his hands as he climbed his way down in the small ravine. He didn't even have the energy to fight anymore, he just wanted to lay down somewhere warm and sleep. Not even Gwaine seemed to notice how unusually quiet he'd been since they left, but Merlin honestly didn't care about that either. He didn't care about anything but getting somewhere warm.
The funny thing is, maybe the following events wouldn't have happened if Merlin hadn't been so desperate to get away from this horrible hunting trip. Or he might've heard or felt them coming if he hadn't been so tired. He barely got the ropes out of the bag when he felt a sharp hit on the back of his neck, making him fall face forward into the snow. He felt dizzy and wanted to throw up, but from the next hit, black descended on him.
He came to be on the back of a horse, hands and legs tied, laid across behind the saddle like a sack of potatoes. His head pulsed from the hits, he felt nauseous from the constant rocking motion of the horse climbing upwards and the smell was also horrible.
“How much do ya think we're gonna get for him?” a scruffy voice asked from somewhere ahead.
“Ten gold coins, at least,” the smelling man, on whose horse Merlin was transported, answered giddily. “Boy has a pretty face. Bet he hides some real charms under all that layer of wool.”
Great, Merlin thought grimly. Slave traders. Camelot was almost devoid of them in recent years, but many crossed the borders to find new people to sell. Uther had many, many faults, but banning slavery was one of the good laws he instated; shame kings like Cenred didn't follow his example.
“Jarl better pay us more than last time,” Scruffy Voice said. “Took him three untouched women and he tried to throw us out with only a few silvers.”
Merlin knew he could get the ropes off with his magic, but he felt drained and tired, his head was hurting like hell and he couldn't feel his arms and legs – where would he go after he was free? He couldn't run in this snow, they would catch up to him in an instant. He might be able to knock them out, but he couldn't come up with the spell...
“Merlin!” he suddenly heard from the distance. The shouts seemed to echo around them. “MERLIN!”
“Shit, they discovered it faster than I thought,” Smelly Man cursed.
“Don't worry, I chased away their horses,” Scruffy Voice chuckled. “They'll never be able to catch up to us—”
Merlin felt the slow rumbling of the earth before the slave traders did. His eyes bursted open, blinding him with white light, but there was no time to waste; power surged through his veins, blood pumping in his ears as he felt the ropes snapping around his ankles and wrists without incantation. As he pushed himself from the horse, he felt his magic circling around the two slave traders, even without knowing where they were, and he was already making his way through the snow when he heard them fall off their saddles.
He didn't turn back to see if they were truly out or not because he kept his eyes on the top of the mountain he was at, and the huge wave of snow which sped towards them. The horses were neighing and began to run for their lives as well; Merlin inwardly cursed himself for not taking one of them, but there was nothing he could do now other than running.
He felt the earth shaking beneath him as the falling avalanche kept getting closer and closer. He noticed one lone cliff which might've shielded him from the snow, but he knew he would never make it there.
At least, not on foot.
His head was spinning, he felt like he could pass out any second, but he gathered all his strength and forced his magic to open up a trail in the snow to the cliff. He sprinted towards it and managed to jump behind the cover of the rock when the avalanche reached him and surrounded him completely. With the last of his willpower he built a golden shield around his body so the snow wouldn't crush him, then collapsed onto the ground, hearing nothing but the rumbling. His last thought was that at least he wasn't cold anymore, before the world sunk into darkness once again.
Merlin felt the warmth first. It was like a soft cocoon around him, peaceful and quiet, like he was floating among gentle flames. Is this what it was like to be a caterpillar? Blissfully sleeping for eternity without a care?
But then he felt the ground shake. Subtle, barely noticeable, but it was enough to disrupt his rest, and make him realise that the flames were getting hotter and hotter. Next came the pain – sharp as a knife, attacking from every side. He wanted to shout, to scream, to beg for it to stop so he could return to his cocoon, but the pain just got worse.
Yeah, the caterpillar built a cocoon so it could transform. Maybe that was the case here as well. This was the painful part of the process no one was talking about.
He believed he heard voices, but maybe he imagined them. Something cool washed over him, numbing the pain and the heat for a few moments before it returned. This routine happened again and again until Merlin finally sunk back into nothingness, which he welcomed with open arms.
The next time he woke, he could actually make out something around himself. His head still felt like it was getting stabbed repeatedly, but at least he could move his fingers. He grabbed something soft underneath him, crumpling the material, while he fought to open his heavy eyelids.
“He's moving again!” a voice announced. Soon Merlin felt cold water on his face, which subdued the pain for a while.
“Come on, Merlin,” the same voice repeated. “Open your eyes.”
A moan escaped from his throat, but Merlin managed to crack his left eye open. Patches of colours danced in front of him – red, gold, white and brown.
“That's it, Merlin,” an older man encouraged him.
He blinked, then tried again and this time he actually managed. The world got back its contours, and he saw Gaius standing on his left with a wet cloth in his hand and Arthur sitting on his right, looking pale and dishevelled. Glancing above, he recognised Arthur's room, but didn't have the energy to question anything in the moment.
“Merlin,” Arthur breathed out, unusually gentle. Merlin felt a hand cover his right, but still he didn't speak a word.
“It's alright, Merlin,” Gaius cleaned his face. “Your fever has gone down finally, and the trembling is almost over as well. You just need to rest now.”
That sounded good, if Merlin was being honest, so he closed his eyes once more and sank back into the bed, into blissful silence.
When Merlin woke up for real, it was dark outside. Only the fireplace was lit, emitting golden light and warmth into the room. He felt incredibly weak and tired, but at least no part of him was hurting anymore, and he took a deep breath, only to find that something was laying across his chest. He looked down and saw an arm; then turned right and saw Arthur facing him, laying above his blanket with a separate one covering him, eyes closed, breathing even. He seemed young in his sleep, ridiculously young, but at the same time worry furrowed his brows, as if even his dreams weren't free of challenges and trials.
Merlin knew he should probably wake him to tell him he was alright, but didn't find it within himself to do so. There was something etherial in the sight, as if he got a glimpse in the man underneath the Prince, underneath the pressure and expectations. Merlin blinked slowly and felt his mouth slowly turning upwards into a smile. He could get used to this view.
Unfortunately, when he tried to pull his left arm from under the blanket to caress his face, Arthur immediately stirred and opened his eyes, his gaze meeting Merlin's right away. For a few moments they stared at each other without any movement, then Arthur lifted himself up and gently touched Merlin's cheek.
“Merlin?” he whispered. “How... How do you feel?”
“Tired,” Merlin sighed, then tried to sit up as well, but Arthur pushed him down. “What time is it?”
“Past midnight,” the Prince replied. “It's late, but I can get Gaius here—”
“No, let him sleep,” Merlin interrupted. He got his arms from underneath the blanket and rubbed his eyes. “How long has it been?”
“Six days since we got back. Five days since you've been here, out of your mind with fever, trembling from the cold no matter how hard we tried to get you heat up.”
Five days. Five days of him laying in the Prince's bed, probably delirious and sweating buckets, yet he felt clean and warm. Even his hair seemed freshly washed.
“Do you... do you remember what happened?”
“You mean how slave traders got me tied up and then I almost got buried alive by an avalanche? Yeah, vividly,” Merlin gulped and realised how dry his throat was. “Can I get some water?”
Arthur immediately reached for his bedside table and raised a golden cup to Merlin's lips, helping him in drinking even when the servant grabbed the cup and could hold it himself. After he swallowed the last drop, everything seemed so much clearer. He sighed contently as he laid back.
“Thanks.” He watched Arthur putting down the cup, eyes not leaving his face, illuminated by the dancing flames. “What happened after? My last memory is getting buried by the snow.”
Arthur's blue eyes darkened as he settled down by his side, laying back under the blanket like it was some kind of shield against the memories. He averted Merlin's gaze and instead focused on the fireplace behind him.
“It was almost nightfall when we finally managed to dig you out.” Arthur murmured. “I thought... I thought you already died. Your lips were blue, your skin was paler than the snow. Leon was the one who managed to feel your slow heartbeat, but it urged us to get back as fast as we could. Yet even when we got here and you were already under Gaius' care — it took almost a day to get your body heat to the point that you started shivering again.”
Merlin felt his hand getting squeezed, and he squeezed back, which made Arthur sigh and further sink into the bed.
“I insisted on you staying here, because the Physician's Tower is ridiculously freezing, I don't know how you two are living there during winter—”
“Why do you think I'm always cold?” Merlin interjected. “I don't really have a place to get warmed up, unless I stay here late to polish your armour or write you speeches.”
“I figured, that's why I ordered to always keep Gaius' chambers full with firewood,” Arthur said. “Father wasn't really pleased, but I argued that if both you and Gaius fall ill, we wouldn't have anyone who could act as physicians.” He took another deep breath and added: “Morgana also helped a lot, the harpy. She's still putting nettle into my clothes, my whole body is covered with some disgusting paste to help the itching. I don't know where she's getting them, but she seems adamant in tormenting me for not taking care of you.”
Merlin chuckled, imagining the lady sitting in her room, searching for the perfect spell to conjure up the nettle leaves by the candle light. He was ought to give her some of his flowers once he got out of here.
“Well, it was your idea to go hunting after it had been snowing for almost three days,” Merlin jabbed, squeezing his hand again. While he tried to joke to lighten up the mood, it only caused Arthur to further lower his head on the pillow, now showing only his blond hair.
“I know,” the Prince breathed. “I have been cursing myself enough. I never thought anyone would be crazy enough to go out in this weather beside us. But even then, I never should've left you alone...” To Merlin's utter disbelief and panic, Arthur actually started sniffling. “This wasn't the first time I was carried away by my emotions and you paid the price. This wasn't the first time I almost lost you because of my mistakes.” He finally looked up, his eyes filled with tears, and Merlin felt like his heart was getting crushed. “And even after all these warnings and close calls, I still can't appreciate you. I still can't show you how much you mean to me, and still you follow me anywhere, still you deal with anything I throw at you—”
Merlin couldn't handle this anymore, so he leaned forward and lightly pressed his lips to Arthur's, making him swallow his words back. It was as if they were surrounded by a magical barrier which kept away the outside world, as if laying under the blankets with fire softly illuminating them was all they needed to finally cross the line they've been dancing around for months now. Merlin felt it, he knew Arthur felt it too, and with how Morgana, Gwen and the knights kept teasing them with the tension, it was clear to people around them as well.
One moment stretched into ten, then a hundred, a thousand. Merlin didn't know how long they kept sharing kisses like it was the most natural thing in the world, Merlin slowly turned towards Arthur and pushed his left hand into those blond locks, while the Prince circled his arm around his waist to pull him closer. Eventually they stopped, but didn't put any distance between themselves; they stayed there, their nose and forehead meeting constantly as they breathed in the same air, their eyes closed.
“Arthur,” Merlin whispered and he felt him nuzzle his nose to his own, showing he was paying attention. “No more hunting trips until spring.”
Arthur chuckled, then pulled Merlin closer, not caring about the one layer of blanket between them, just hugged him until the servant's face was buried in the Prince's neck.
“No more hunting trips until spring,” he repeated.
There were many things they still had to discuss – Merlin's recovery, Uther's policy, Arthur's future as king, the stance of magic, the newest development of their relationship –, however all of these could wait till sunrise. Now they could just lay there in their cocoon of safety and love, enjoying the silence and peace.
Merlin was finally warm again.
And no matter how much he could get on his nerves, he most definitely wasn't going to kill Arthur Pendragon.