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It’s supposed to help you sleep, they say. It’s such a wonderful scent to have in the home. It tastes lovely.
Lies.
Merlin hates lavender, but unfortunately he knows without a doubt that Arthur secretly loves the stuff. So here he is, in what should surely count as a whole field of it, nose stuffed and eyes itching from the strong attack on his senses, picking the flowers into a nice, decently sized and yet modest bouquet with enough extra for Gaius to keep stored.
Why am I even doing this?
The question makes him pause in his gathering and flush. A small smile reaches his face.
How silly that the first thing he does after they both realise their feelings is to get him a bouquet of his favourite flower.