December will be Magic Again, for Gilli_Ann
Title: December will be Magic Again
Recipient: gilli_ann
Author: sparringett
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Arthur/Merlin/Morgana
Summary: Morgana decides to teach her boyfriend Merlin how to ice skate on the Thames.
Warnings: No warnings. Assignment prompts: Modern London AU, Happy Ending, Good!Morgana, A Bit of Angst, Falling in Love, Magic.
Word Count: 3623
Author's Notes: Apologies Gilli, there was a little pencil sketch to accompany this but then I realised the proportions were wrong. Then my dog licked the paper. So. Hopefully the words will suffice <3
Beta-ed by invisibility-superiority from Tumblr.
Happy Christmas! :)
Disclaimer: Merlin is owned by the BBC and Shine. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made. Don't send us to the dungeons.
It was Morgana’s idea of course. Merlin was not and had never been the most graceful creature on two legs to walk the planet. Or, well, to skate across the very thin ice of the Thames.
His mother once said he had two left feet. In his youth, Merlin had gone through a very sharp and sudden growth spurt in his late teens. It made the boy from Bethnal Green rather gangly and maladjusted in his posture. Many said it added to his charm, but for Merlin it sometimes felt like an insult disguised as a compliment. Anyway, what really counted, as Merlin eventually came to know, was the opinion of the one who loved you, and who you loved in return.
And when Morgana smiled at him in that way, cheeks flushed with warmth and emerald eyes sparkling with genuine love, Merlin didn’t feel so bad really. In fact, he was inclined to do whatever his fellow witch wanted.
“I’ll do it just this once, Morgana. And only because you asked.”
His girlfriend purrs as she winds a scarf around his neck; a smart black and grey one made from soft acrylic and wool. Sliding her hands down his front, she straightens out her boyfriend’s long winter coat, making him appear as elegant as she so effortlessly presented herself to the world.
“Never limit yourself by saying such things, Merlin. You never know, you might enjoy yourself out there on the ice. Who’s to say you won’t discover a new hidden talent?”
Leaning up slightly, she kisses Merlin on the nose. Sometimes when Merlin blushed, his entire nose went a lovely shade of red too. As if by magic. Catching Merlin’s little frown, Morgana chuckles.
Their magic often surrounded them, almost merging in a shimmering ball of snow and butterflies. Meeting Merlin at college and asking him out after their lessons with the visiting lecturer were over had shocked a fair few of Morgana’s girlfriends. Yet Morgana had felt the attraction from the beginning; a sort of constricting warmth in her chest and lightness in her tummy, as she watched the young professor swing his satchel off from over his shoulder, place it on his desk, and launch immediately into his lecture on Mudéjar art of the 11th century. Clever eyes assessing his class, Merlin commanded all attention, offering sweeping historical accounts of Spanish architecture; of monasteries built in lands of conquest, formed in cradles of religious strife and resolution.
Morgana, like the other mature art students in the class, had been fascinated not only by the breadth of knowledge Professor Emrys had on his subject, but also by the boundless enthusiasm he brought into the classroom. He loved his academic interest, that was certainly true. So many of his students wished they too could become the focus of such intellectual passion.
Only Morgana had managed it, simply by offering the Professor a different form of appreciation. She recognised Merlin had magic, she could feel it as surely as he could sense hers. That, being a rarity in itself in the modern age, meant that they had something outside medieval villas to bond over. For Morgana, Merlin had been the first witch she had met since her mother died. There always came a sense of relief (and excitement) when two such people crossed paths. Their relationship grew quickly after that mutual revelation, and the dates, gifts and magical favours bestowed on each other merely increased until, inevitably, they moved into a shared apartment. Morgana had graduated top in her class and now held a job in design and architecture for a consulting firm. Merlin, meanwhile, continued to give lectures on a contract basis in varied arts schools across London. They were well-off for money.
Which gave them plenty of leisure time to enjoy the festive season.
Picking up her special handbag, Morgana checks to make sure their ice-skating boots, rough winter blankets, mugs and thermos flask (containing hot cocoa) are all securely stashed away in the surprisingly small space, before taking her boyfriend’s hand.
“Oh, and I’ve heard that others will be joining us too! Mithian has advised that some of the girls from your old class will be there, as will a few of their male friends.”
Squeezing Merlin’s hand, Morgana chuckles as he pretends to sigh. She knows Merlin well enough to see past his ruse. He’ll be happy to be reunited with some of his old students again.
The magic of a winter-scape greets them outside their apartment as the couple make their way down the Embankment, along the side of the Thames towards the unofficially-designated skating spot. About a dozen or so intrepid Londoners are already braving the ice, skating with various degrees of confidence over the thin sheet of frost covering the Thames.
Merlin raises an eyebrow. “They could fall in. Anyone of them, at any moment. Nobody here has magic like us, Morgana. If they fall under the ice now, they could easily get swept under and drown-”
“Yes, well, it’s a good thing we’re here then. Isn’t it?” Morgana shakes her head, unable to let Merlin attempt to deprive himself of the chance of having a good time.
Reaching into her handbag, she pulls out two pairs of ice-skating boots: a pair of blue and silver ones for Merlin, and a pair of white ones with golden laces for herself. Pressing them against Merlin’s chest, she raises an eyebrow that allows for no compromise.
“Put these on. I’ll teach you how to find your balance on the snow first, before we go on the ice. Don’t be scared now, Merlin.”
The little jibe has its intended effect. In any case, Morgana knew it wouldn’t have taken much further persuasion anyway. Merlin takes the skates, bending down to put them on, all while balancing by holding onto his girlfriend’s waist with the other hand. He does not wish to topple into the snow and wet his coat (and rear end) on the ground. Of course, not.
He could use his magic, but they are surrounded by non-magical folk, and as such, it would be unwise to cause a scene. In any case, when he rises up again, Morgana has already got her skates on too, and the pair are ready to head out.
“Hold onto my waist if you must.” Morgana teases quietly, as they step onto the ice.
Secretly she is enjoying the feeling of Merlin’s hands on her body. His fingers are slender, but they are long and they grip securely around her waist very pleasingly. Closing her eyes, the witch sends a small tendril of her own magic back to her boyfriend, encouraging him to keep his chin up and his gaze forward - and then she pushes her right foot forward, gliding them together over the ice for a few metres, before pushing out with her left.
The surface of the Thames offers no resistance, the smooth ice lending speed to each movement as Morgana increases the pace of their dance across the frozen river. As the bodies of the other skaters around them stretch into a blur of motion, she feels Merlin’s tension in the tightening of his fingers. And so, once she has brought them to a safe spot away from the others, she turns and takes both of his hands off her waist and into her palms.
Squeezing gently, she smiles at her partner softly. “You see, Merlin? There’s nothing ungainly about ice-skating. Even the tallest man can be transformed upon the ice into a graceful swan. Trust me. Now. It’s your turn to go forward. I’ll be beside you, don’t fret, love.”
Bringing her heels together, Morgana begins her backwards skate, pushing off her left foot this time. Gulping, Merlin tries to copy her movements, in reverse, pushing forward on his left in turn. His fingers tighten around his girlfriend’s wrists but he’s doing it - and Morgana smiles in delight as Merlin begins to grin impishly, blue eyes sparkling with joy as he glides once more, serene and in perfect control across the frozen ice.
“That’s it. You’re a natural.” Morgana muses, emerald eyes sparkling with warmth. Confident in his abilities to let him try a solo skate, she lets go of Merlin’s hands, tempting fate in the frozen wilderness of winter. “Let go, love! Enjoy it!”
For about a minute, everything is well. Merlin glides on his own, surrounded by softly falling snow that gently kisses his bobble hat and lines his trench coat and scarf - the picture-perfect image of a Victorian gent enjoying a skate across the historic Thames.
And then he crashes headlong into another male; one who had been skating rather less serenely and far more competitively with friends, in the opposite direction. The pair go tumbling upon the ice with a loud crack.
“What the… hell! Watch where you’re going, you great clumsy…oaf!”
Merlin startles, pushing himself off the half-raving, half-swearing blond who he seems to be lying on top of. An angry pair of blue eyes lock onto his face. The other man clearly does not appreciate the blow to his pride, nor less the blow to his body.
Merlin splutters an apology, offering the man a hand up from the ice. As he does so, water begins to bubble up in the cracks on the ice made behind the male’s back. Perhaps the blond would have disregarded the help, but the disintegrating ice puts a sudden fear into him, and he snatches hold of Merlin’s hand, pulling himself up.
“Christ! Now my coat is wet, and look at what you’ve done-”
The cracks appearing in the ice lengthen ominously, splintering in shards around the two men’s feet. Merlin gulps. All his magic rushes to his fingertips at the sign of danger but, having never worked magic with the element of ice before, Merlin cannot think what spell to cast.
And he can’t. Not in front of this rude stranger.
A loud cracking sound splits the air between them. Beneath their feet, the ice begins to buckle and tip sideways…
“Right, hold onto me.”
Having spoken, the blond man wastes no more time. He wraps an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, hand grasping tight onto the epaulette of Merlin’s coat. Then he’s pushing them off, fierce and athletic strides upon the ice, as the cracking continues around them, fractured planes of ice splintering and tipping sideways into the cold-water underneath.
The danger is very real. Morgana watches the pair of men, about thirty metres away. Her gloved hands cover her mouth. Beside her Mithian watches also, as do the blond’s friends: a tall man with a short, almost entirely shaved haircut and another man with dark hair, dark eyes and ebony skin.
The taller man brings his hands to his mouth in a circle. “Arthur! Watch out for the log!”
Sliding sideways, the blond narrowly avoids tripping himself onto the small, gnarled branch, no bigger than the length of a forearm. There’s no time for either of them to fall. The water of the Thames sluices around their feet. The ice is splintering even faster. Merlin begins to piece together the gravity of the moment. They’re too heavy together.
The pair of them can’t outrun the ice.
Arthur grits his teeth, making a snap-second decision. “Fine. Stay dry. I’m wet already.”
Grabbing Merlin bodily, he flings the man forward, causing the brunet to spin, free-falling to safety at the edge of the river, several metres beyond the fault lines on the ice. Merlin lands heavily onto a snow drift. Morgana rushes to his side, carefully checking her boyfriend for cuts or bruises on his face. Muttering that he’s fine, Merlin pushes himself into an upright position.
The blond man left alone on the shattering Thames grimaces as he falls, remembering just in time to expel his lungs of air before the cold of the water hits. Thus, the shock of sub-zero temperature does not leave Arthur breathless. His hands grasp weakly for the surface of the ice as his legs are swept up in the underwater current. His fingers slip, and then he is dragged under.
Merlin shakes his head, panicking.
Morgana takes a stand. She is a witch who knows the elements of Winter. While Merlin’s magic came rooted from within the Earth itself, hers hearkened to the snow and the frost of the sleeping season. She draws from that deep well of memory now; darkness, and loss of light and warmth, but quiet hope in renewal… and the snow responds.
The water of the Thames lifts with the movement of her hand. Greater forces press back against the current keeping Arthur sucked under. The rolling tide draws the drizzled man out of the river. Around him, the fault lines in the ice re-knit themselves. A fresh smattering of softest snow cradles Arthur’s head as he is deposited back upon the frozen surface of the Thames.
Morgana sighs. Such powerful magic drawn upon at a moment’s notice is draining for any witch. She sits back onto the snow, breathing in slowly.
Merlin starts, grasping onto his girlfriend’s arm. Despite the show of illicit magic, and the impact on his girlfriend, he is unable to take his eyes off the scene before him. Arthur’s friends have rushed over to his still body, the tall one lifting him up, while the smaller man gently checks his head for injuries.
Awakening, Arthur coughs and splutters, swearing again - and a wry grin at last appears on his smaller friend’s face.
“Oh, you’re alright. Had us all terrified for a moment with your usual heroics. Arthur - you clown.”
The taller man agrees, though he continues to rub warmth back into the blond’s body. “You should get home, Arthur. That was a close call, and you’re likely still in shock. Elyan and I will take you. You need a change of clothes, a hot drink and a nice relaxing afternoon on the sofa with a blanket-”
“Yeah, wait, Percy. I… I have to speak to someone first.”
Slowly disentangling himself from his friends, Arthur makes a stand, teeth chattering lightly as he looks for the man he’d crashed into. His clothes, a white t-shirt, red jumper, pair of faded blue jeans and half-discarded overcoat are soaked through. Trembling, Arthur finds his man huddled on the ground next to a woman. He walks resolutely towards the pair of them.
On the snowy shoreline, Merlin rises to his feet also. The weight of guilt at the other man’s approach rests squarely on his shoulders. If Merlin hadn’t pushed out on the ice alone, if he’d kept within the remit of his competence as a novice skater, then this man wouldn’t have felt the need to save him-
“Thank you, for what you did out there. I’m sorry for causing so much trouble I-”
“Are you ok?”
The blond stands still, blue eyes surveying Merlin carefully. His deep voice seems measured, carrying none of the hostility from earlier during the incident. Merlin pauses. At his side, Morgana stands up slowly, gently looping her arm around his back. Arthur notices this, and nods.
“I’m sorry, actually. It was I that crashed into you first.”
Lowering his head, Arthur sighs. The cold frost continues to make him shiver a little. Merlin glances at Morgana silently. The witch raises her eyebrow. Finally, the Professor steps closer to the drenched man.
He places a hand on Arthur’s chest.
“You were very brave out there. You rescued me. No one was thinking as fast as you on the ice.”
A warmth flows from Merlin’s hand, drying Arthur’s clothes. Unprompted, the magic goes deeper, heating the pale skin underneath. Arthur eyes widen, and yet he doesn’t say a word - the miracle that drew him out of the Thames nudging him into an unordinary state of acceptance of the profound. He knows, however, that with this act - the brunet is no ordinary man.
Merlin smiles kindly. “So, I would say that, actually, we are even. Apology accepted. Are you ok, my friend?”
Lowering his hand, he waits for the blond to respond.
Arthur pauses, a little dumbfounded. There’s almost something remarkably cheeky in the way this magical man has thrown his words back at him. Scoffing a little, Arthur shakes his head - finally, offering Merlin his own hand in return.
“My name’s Arthur. I’m… glad to have met you. There. That’s a better introduction than a tumble on the ice.”
The pro-offered hand is accepted. “I’m Merlin. Or Professor Emrys. Ice-skating might not really be my forte.”
Arthur snorts. “No, I could tell that.” He shakes Merlin’s hand firmly. “But then I’m far more into sports than I ever was into my books. I could have used an intellectual friend way back when I was sitting my finals, but sadly they were in short supply.”
Beside her boyfriend, Morgana giggles suddenly. She’s worked out exactly who the blond man is.
“Arthur Pendragon. We knew each other from secondary school.” She explains, turning once more to the blond. “The teachers hated you for talking all over them during their lessons. The reason you struggled during exams is because you never listened to their feedback. You weren’t stupid, just… a bit too cocky.”
Arthur blinks. “Morgana? Is that you? You were the Prom Queen that year everyone was-”
The blond shuts his mouth, mortified by the sudden blush that colours his cheeks. Merlin raises an eyebrow, looking back at his girlfriend with a question in his eyes. Morgana smirks, nodding slightly.
Merlin sighs. A wide smile, reflective of his mood, takes a permanent place on his face. A wonderful idea has crept into his mind; one he hopes might not seem too forward. And yet, given the events of the day, it just felt right. As if arranged by fate.
“Would you like to come back with us, Arthur? It seems you and Morgana have some years to catch up on. And I can make us all some more hot chocolate in the apartment. It’s not far from here and, well, you’re welcome - as an old friend, it seems.”
The snow swirls around the three of them.
Arthur feels his heart swell with a sudden longing that… that he hasn’t felt for a long time. Not since his father passed away, hopelessly lost in grief over the untimely passing of his mother. Not since he drifted alone through school, meeting his other athletic friends, those select few (outside of the casual acquaintances) who would not belittle him or feel envious of his talent in whichever sport he put his mind to. Elyan and Percy were always reliable company. They were together, which Arthur accepted entirely. It made him think no less of his friends that they found their happiness in the same sex. But it did make him wonder sometimes why, despite the years of trying on the dating scene… he’d never managed anything beyond first dates himself. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t found his home yet.
He coughs. “I’ll need to let my friends know, but yes. I appreciate the offer and I think I’d like to… to come back to your place.”
Biting his lip, Arthur nods again, before turning back briefly and announcing his intentions with Elyan and Percy. The two of them smile and nod, pleased that it looks as though Arthur is going to be well looked-after. As they turn to go, Arthur catches the look that passes between Elyan and Morgana. Almost as if, quite by chance, another unspoken connection had been made.
The blond huffs, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Why does it feel as though everyone knows everyone here?”
Rolling his eyes, Merlin turns to link up arms with him, while Morgana grins, doing the same on Arthur’s other side. The two witches smile again at each other. Yes, both of them felt something for this rather obtuse man. As unlikely as it seemed, their magic had jointly responded to his plight upon the ice. For witches, it was known that when magic rushed instinctively to the aid of another it did so due to an innate emotional connection lying beneath the surface.
Often, it was one of the first signs that a witch was falling in love.
Merlin raises his voice. “What does it matter? Christmas is a time of new beginnings, joy and good tidings. At least that’s what my dad used to say. Why not surrender ourselves to the mood of the season?”
Morgana pitches in. “It’s also a time for realising old dreams. Our childhoods are behind us, but that doesn’t mean we are unworthy as adults to experience a little wonder in our lives again. So, what was it you were going to share with us, Arthur, about our Prom year at school?”
Arthur opens his mouth to respond, closing it before he can find the words. The look in Morgana’s eyes visibly melts him, and the feel of Merlin patiently smiling back has that odd warmth rise in his cheeks once again. Surrounded by the pair, Arthur feels as if the role of being the ‘strong and independent’ sort is being gently taken away from him. And in a way, it’s a relief. At last, here are others who said they were going to shelter him, to keep him warm. Who were interested in him.
Perhaps even as more than friends.
It’s exciting and just a little nerve-wracking, but Arthur feels at last as though he no longer has to chase after the impossible. Because perhaps, just this once, the impossible has come to him.
Christmas this year feels like the beginning of something good.
It feels as though at last - Arthur is going home.