Wintry Calm (so in love with the wrong world) 3/13

[ceeebee]

It was another cold night, and Freya was quaking slightly as she leant, pressed up against Merlin's side. Time had gotten away from them, and they were all unsure as to how long their lives had become broken up into so many pieces. Merlin liked to think that each piece had a name, and he let them run through his mind as his small hands stroked through Freya's hair.

His mother, Hunith. Will. Arthur. Morgana. Gaius. Freya.

Out of all of them two were dead, one was missing, one was barely human and, another was hardly real, apart from in worn out photographs.

Morgana looked over the top of Freya's head, squinting across the road and through a shop window. They slept here because, through the window, you could just about see the clock that hung on the wall of the shop. Time had gotten away, but watching each hour tick by didn't make any of them feel like they were catching up with it. On the contrary, with every passing moment Merlin felt as if he was being left behind. Beside him, Freya shifted, emitting a soft moan as she turned to bury her face in his neck.

When they had taken in the small cat all those months ago, they had of course known that it wasn't ordinary-of course known that it was magical. But in a million years they couldn't have guessed that the next morning they would wake to find a small naked child, curled up between them and practically blue from cold.

"Your name, what's your name?" Merlin could remember asking her frantically in an effort to keep her conscious as Morgana wrapped her in a cardigan.

"Freya," she'd whispered, sighing as material enveloped her.

Every night she would change-every night of the month, apart from on those few when the moon was black and new and invisible.

"Nine," Morgana mouthed to Merlin, and he nodded wearily. They had three hours then, before the girl next to him would twist and shatter the air with screams as wings tore through the pale skin on her back, and claws cut their way from her knuckles.

For a few minutes there was silence, and Merlin let his cheek rest against the top of Freya's head, his eyelids drifting shut, before a sudden curse caused him to jerk and dislodge Freya from his shoulder. Morgana was on her feet in an instant, a hand held out behind her as a warning for the other two not to move. However, Merlin rarely heeded Morgana's warnings and he got to his feet, helping up Freya as she did too.

Her expression was slightly disoriented, and Merlin murmured a soft apology for waking her. Then he turned to Morgana.

"Who was it?" he asked, pressing instinctively closer.

"I think..." she trailed off, nodding towards a side street which they could easily see down. Merlin bit his lip uncertainly, wondering if they were under any real threat or if they could just go back to sleep...or Freya could go back to sleep while the other two sat still, staring at a clock face.

"Come on." Morgana took hold of Merlin's wrist and slipped her hand into Freya's before tugging them both along with her, down the street.

"Morgana..." Merlin bumped shoulders with her as they walked, and she could practically feel the defensiveness and suspicion rolling off him as he glanced around, magic on tenterhooks.

"I just want to see," she told him, and they continued to venture. The same voice that had sworn before continued now, and loudly. The racket was seeping out of one the front doors along the road, which was ajar. A shaft of light spilled out onto the pavement, and all three children stood there, staring at it gathering on the floor.

"Come on." Morgana gave another pull on their arms, and then they were stumbling through the door into the house.

After that, it was Gwaine and the yelling and the promises and the general confusion that came with being totally vulnerable one minute and cared for the next.

They'd all crowded into his little dingy spare room, collapsing onto thin mattresses which were nevertheless comfier than anything they'd experienced for a long time and, in Freya's case, ever. She'd settled in the middle, and Morgana dropped a kiss to her forehead before she'd done Merlin's, reminding the other girl that it was only ten and that she should sleep while she could.

***

"Gwaine said you were the best."

This time, the man's name was Cedric, and his hands were already on Merlin's waist when he spoke, his thumb nails digging into the skin over his hipbones.

In response, Merlin smirked with a look he'd perfected after living with Morgana for over five years. "Well, Gwaine would know," he allowed, momentarily thinking back to when Gwaine had kissed him for the first time. Nerves had been running high, and the tension had been palpable, especially with Morgana watching from across the room.

There was a moment when Cedric seemed to deliberate, and then he released his hold on Merlin to dig a wallet out of his pocket. Merlin watched the movement of his hands, eyes flicking over the short nails-

Good.

-which nonetheless had a faint line of grey beneath them.

Bad.

Then the man was thumbing through the contents of his wallet, and Merlin felt his face burn. This was always the worst part. The part where he watched his...clients decide how much he was worth.

He didn't bother trying to count the money when Cedric set it down on a small wooden table by the bed and instead opted to surge forwards, his fingers at the buttons on the other man's jeans. He was panting at the first touch, and his pupils blew wide when Merlin slowly sank to the floor in front of him.

It was always the same, Merlin thought dully, as he flicked his tongue lightly over the head of Cedric's dick before proceeding to take him as deep as possible without warning.

Cedric had blonde hair and blue eyes.

Cedric was, supposedly, Merlin's preferred type.

He had to fight not to roll his eyes when he remembered how this conclusion had been drawn: ironic, that the man he had always secretly referred to as some kind of guardian angel ended up being the template for all the people he would ever drop to his knees for.

Arthur Pendragon...

Merlin let the name roll to the very tip of his tongue, enjoying the taste of it before he dragged it back at the same moment as he pulled away from Cedric, who came hard and stripped him from forehead to collar bone with sticky heat.

He still didn't count the cash after he snatched it up off the counter and shoved it deep into his pocket.

Cedric opened his mouth as Merlin swung his bag over his shoulder, his eyes raking over Merlin's face, still laced with cum and then down to the front of his jeans.

"Sorry," Merlin ran a tongue over his lip, eyes bright. "It's extra to watch." Then he headed out the front door before breaking into a jog, flattening a hand over his face to wipe away some of the filth in disgust.

The moment he was out of sight and down an empty alleyway, his hand was down the front of his trousers, and he was quickly bringing himself off, filled with confidence that by holding back this time he had secured a customer who would no doubt return for more.

It took a second to get his breath back, his head leaning against the wall behind him. Then he touched a hand to the top pocket of his shirt and moved away, heading for home.

***

Morgana and Gwaine were talking quietly at the kitchen table when Merlin shouldered his way into the house. They both looked up quickly, and Merlin raised his hands in apology when he spotted Freya dozing in the corner.

Morgana got to her feet and moved over to him, and for a moment he let her cup his face in a slender hand. He was slightly taller than her, such that she had to pull his head down to look at him properly. She did this almost every time he came home, and he was much the same whenever she stumbled through the front door with her hair in a mess and her lips a bitten red. He smiled at her before pushing her hand away lightly and dropping his bag, which held only a spare set of clothes, on the floor. Then he walked over to Gwaine and pulled up a chair.

Gwaine hadn't changed much since three wayward and magical children had forced their way into his life five years ago. His good looks and humour still remained very much intact, and he flicked his hair slightly so it didn't hang over his eyes when he looked at Merlin. Also, he hadn't lost any of the original fight that he'd had back then. If anything, his determination for justice or revenge, or whatever it was he had been looking for since deciding to go against Aredian and Uther, had been fuelled by their arrival.

He really had tried, Merlin thought begrudgingly, unable to stop from grinning when he'd handed over Cedric's money and received a light hearted punch to the shoulder for his trouble. Gwaine had tried to do the best for all of them, but the guy was a drunk and a rebel, and in the end, no one would have been able to turn Merlin, Morgana or Freya into reasonable candidates for school or work with money hanging over their heads in the form of 'wanted' posters rather than resting securely in bank accounts.

Still, it appeared that although the Authorities would never have even considered letting Merlin learn how to read, they had no problem with hiring the fifteen year old out for a good fuck when it suited them. As the thought flashed violently across Merlin's mind, his fists clenched slightly where they rested on the tabletop.

Gwaine caught the movement, and his lips downturned. No one had any doubt that he'd felt worst about the situation. He had told Morgana when she was fifteen, and they had spent the last week watching the death toll in the newspapers rise. As time passed, Freya grew, and food became scarcer because there simply wasn't any money, and there were very few options left open to them, if they all wanted to stick together.

At the time, Gwaine's job as a barman had paid even less than it did now, and he was barely able to feed himself, let alone his new roommates. Morgana hadn't even really thought about what she was doing when she agreed-hadn't considered past the possibility of losing the people she had come to call 'family' when she took the first step to selling herself away. It had terrified Gwaine, the willingness with which she nodded her assent.

But then the cupboards had slowly started to fill, and no one had the right to complain: not when they no longer had to sooth a little girl every time she woke up to find dried blood under her nails and the tangy taste of it left in her mouth.

Merlin knew where the money was coming from, of course. He wasn't stupid and besides, he'd been the one to cradle Morgana in his arms when she came home the first time, limping and with red rimmed eyes. He'd been there to wipe away the makeup and then use his magic to cast shadows on the walls, making them dance to have her laugh. Afterwards, she had fallen asleep with her head in his lap about twenty minutes before Gwaine got home.

When he'd seen her, his face had paled, and his hand had clenched around the doorframe, his knuckles pearly in the dark. Then he had stumbled away to bed, his expression filled with guilt, soaked with alcohol, and saturated by the idea of defeat.

For a second, Merlin had hated him-hated him for letting them down. But then he had curled around Morgana, thumb finding its way to his mouth like it hadn't in months, and remembered that Gwaine had saved them. A hand moved to his heart and pressed. Sleep took him over.

A few years later, on Merlin's fourteenth birthday, Morgana hastily pressed a kiss to his cheek before heading for the door. It wasn't that she'd wanted to go, but Morgause was generous, and Morgana actually liked the woman. She didn't want to lose her.

The door was open, and she had her foot on the pavement outside before a hand caught her arm.

"I'm coming with you."

Merlin's voice was determined, and she'd turned to see the eyes of a man, staring stubbornly into hers. Something inside her stomach jolted unpleasantly, and for a second she attempted to pull away, but he only clung on tighter. She closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose. It was Merlin's birthday. She would not allow this to be her present to him.

"Not today," she sighed, eyes snapping open. Then she placed a hand over his, for a moment feeling the tension in his fingers-the unwillingness to let go-before it went slack, and she pushed it away.

"Okay," he'd whispered, "not today." And the words were laden with an unspoken promise Morgana wished she couldn't hear.

***

Arthur stared at the picture for a moment, his mouth slightly dry. It was a school photograph that had been taken when he was in year 11: sixteen years old and already wearing his father's arrogant smirk. It had been printed in the newspapers the next day along with his grades stamped underneath. Arthur had never understood why anyone would have cared which exams he managed to pass-all of them, of course- or which he managed to do exceptionally well in, which was most of them, but apparently they did, and apparently some people liked to cut out the pictures and keep them in their pockets.

By the time Arthur reached the guest room, he had shifted Merlin over so that the photo was not in risk of fluttering to the floor. He was more than curious about what else was hidden in the boy's jacket, but there was no way to find out when the girl, Morgana, was waiting for them outside the door.

Her expression was shrewd, and she reached out instantly to take Merlin from him. Arthur frowned. "Are you sure you-"

"I carried him to your doorstep, Mr Pendragon. I can get him to the bed," she spoke tersely, cutting across him with narrowed eyes, and arms still outstretched. There was a moment of tense silence before Arthur awkwardly manoeuvred the gangly teenager over to Morgana, whose knees bent ever so slightly before she straightened up again with Merlin's head resting against her shoulder.

Morgana must have spotted the piece of paper then, resting on Merlin's shirt. Her eyes flicked from it to Arthur's face, and she looked like she was on the verge of telling him something. But then she stopped, took a quick breath, and said, "He won't be needing that now he's got the real thing."

Her words caused the paper to move and slide from his chest, promtpting Arthur to reach out and snatch it from the air.

"Well..." he began, free hand moving to rub at the back of his neck. "Sleep well...and let us know if you need anything." He gestured vaguely behind him, to where his and Gwen's bedroom was.

"Bathroom?"

She'd blurted out the word and then frowned as though she'd wondered where the outburst had come from.

Arthur blinked, slightly taken aback, and then pointed. "Just over there."

Morgana nodded, shifting from foot to foot. "Right."

Thankfully at that point, Gwen came wandering to Arthur's side and placed a hand on his arm, smiling softly at the sight of Merlin asleep.

Then Arthur murmured a belated "good night" and allowed himself to be steered back to bed.

Morgana stood and watched the pair of them disappear into their room before backing into her own. She set Merlin down gently and rolled the heavy duvet up to his chin. He smiled softly when she ran her fingers through his hair before she left for the bathroom.

***

Arthur slid into bed beside Gwen, closing his eyes as he felt her gravitate towards him and move her hand to rest on his, now bare, chest. After a few moments, he felt her feet move to press against his leg and sucked in a breath.

"Cold," he murmured, and she pressed harder, her smile muffled in his shoulder when he huffed out a laugh.

"Who do you think they are?" she asked after a moment, and he cracked open an eye to look down at her. She wasn't looking at his face but was instead focussing on her own hand, which was tracing patterns over his skin.

Arthur thought for a minute. "I don't know. People from over the Wall."

"Well, obviously," Gwen agreed, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. "But, Arthur. People don't just...they don't just take a trip over the Wall. And, even if they did, why would they come here?"

"You mean," Arthur said slowly, "why would they come to me?"

She sounded almost apologetic when she spoke next. "Yes. Your father..."

"I'm not my father," Arthur gritted out, firmly, and Gwen squeezed his fingers.

"I know you're not. But how can they know that?"

"I don't know," Arthur sighed and twisted his neck to look at his bedside table, where he had dropped the photo of himself.

"Do you...do you think they're magic?"

Arthur didn't need to look to know that Gwen's eyes were gleaming with curiosity. He considered the question for a moment before shaking his head slowly. "The girl, maybe," he conceded, thinking of Morgana's defensiveness and darting eyes. "But the boy...Merlin," he continued as he reached out a hand to let his fingers brush briefly over the photograph, "No."

***

Arthur woke before Gwen did, the same as every other Saturday, because his body clock refused to switch off even when he didn't have to get up for work and regardless of whether he'd spent the night introducing two vagabonds into his home.

"Vagabonds," he muttered, almost in disbelief, shaking his head as he detached himself from his girlfriend, stretched, and headed downstairs.

His plan had been to try and have breakfast in peace before finding some kind of excuse that would allow him to get out of the house for the day. He hadn't been lying the day before when he'd told Gwen he thought Morgana might be magic. Living with his father and overhearing numerous conversations between him and various colleagues had taught Arthur that most people from over The Wall were sorcerers. In fact, even if he hadn't grown up in such an environment, it was common knowledge that Camelot was divided for a reason: to keep the pure safe. It had never been a concept that had made sense in Arthur's mind...and surely you weren't doing anyone a favour by putting all the most dangerous people in the city, perhaps in the country, in one place.

Merlin though...Arthur couldn't imagine any sorcerer carrying a picture of him around in their pocket unless they wanted to remember his face, so that one day they might kill him. Something told Arthur that that was not the boy's intent, and besides: Merlin didn't look like someone with magic. There was nothing malicious about that wide, goofy smile and nothing powerful in the awkward way he held himself. Arthur just couldn't see it.

Anyway, quite frankly, he didn't want to be around when his guests somehow drew attention to themselves and had to be carted away by the Authorities. Because that would undoubtedly happen very soon...preferably before his conscience either caused him to hand over the urchins himself or become stupidly attached to the pair of them.

All these thoughts had run through Arthur's head twice by the time he was pulled up short at the entrance to his kitchen by a display that gave him the urge to laugh and then bang his head off the nearest surface.

Somehow the boy, Merlin, must have dragged himself downstairs, still looking absolutely filthy and wearing the same clothes as last night-though Arthur had been quite sure Gwen had given them both old sets of pyjamas. He was now sitting on the kitchen floor, surrounded by cereal boxes. One box had been opened, and Arthur had to pick his way through its spilt contents, wincing every time he crushed a sugared square into the floor and thought about how long it would take to clean up.

As he got closer, the boy looked up and with his bottom lip sticking out slightly in a pout, he was doing a great job of personifying 'pathetic'.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, and after a moment Merlin seemed to suck in his lip and offer up a hopeful smile instead.

"Get up," Arthur sighed.

After a long second where it looked like Merlin wouldn't be able to, he placed his hands flat on the floor either side of him and pushed weakly to try and raise himself up. Then Arthur finally took some pity on him and dragged him to his feet.

"If you can't even stand up by yourself, how on earth did you get downstairs? And when you realised you were capable of moving this morning, why wasn't your first step towards the bathroom?" Arthur held Merlin at arm's length as he spoke, nose scrunched up in disgust.

The blush which he had caught a glimpse of yesterday-again, when he had been talking about his appearance-started to edge its way up Merlin's neck before pooling across his pale face. "Still hungry," he murmured after a moment, his arms hanging limply by his sides.

Arthur's mouth fell open for a second, before he managed to twist it into the right shape, and whispered, "Oh," then continued, in a clearer tone:

"Well, if you eat with those hands you'll catch some kind of disease, so sit there." And with that, he pulled out a chair from the kitchen table before steering Merlin into it with firm hands.

Merlin watched as Arthur pulled a deep plastic bowl from the cupboard under the sink, and then ran the tap until steam was rising and clinging to every available surface. After that, the bowl was filled up with the hot water and a splash of washing up liquid and placed carefully in front of Merlin, who still hadn't looked away from Arthur's face. He wondered if Arthur might be more inclined to fuck him if he'd washed first.

By the way he was being glared at now, he decided that was almost definitely the case...although even if Arthur might have preferred to fuck someone who wasn't practically crawling with dirt, it didn't mean he'd ever want Merlin-not when he had Gwen upstairs and a face like that.

Merlin struggled for a second because this was Arthur, and you couldn't just say anything in front of a man who you had been obsessed with since you were eight-who you had imagined to be kissing you and running his hands all over you since you lost your virginity at fourteen.

Who had the power to send you to the gallows with a single word from his chapped, pretty pink lips.

You couldn't just say anything because if you'd seen what Merlin had in his short life, you'd know that the wrong thing could mean the difference between empty and full, alone and complete, discontent and blissfully satisfied.

"Once I clean up..." he murmured tentatively, shyly lowering his eyes to his feet. "...will you fuck me?"

And Arthur's eyes widened, water dripping from his fingertips and hitting the kitchen floor.



Morgause had been married for four years when Morgana had met her for the first time. Morgana hadn't cared though-it hadn't been her place to care anyway, just as long as she got paid at the end of the day.

"Here," Morgause had told her, pressing a key to the front door into her hand, after their first night together. In response, Morgana had stared down at the little shaped piece of black metal with her mouth hanging open in shock.

"What-" she'd begun, half offering it back in her uncertainty only to be met by a smirk.

"You're different," Morgause chuckled then leant forwards to press a hot kiss to Morgana's mouth, making the younger girl part her lips and moan ever so softly. "And I trust you." The words were a whisper as they parted before Morgana was steered from the house and gently pushed back out onto the street.

Morgana had asked Gwaine about it when she got home, placing the key delicately on the table between them.

"She said she trusted me," Morgana had told him as he'd examined the key, curiously turning it in his fingers.

"I'm sure," he'd replied in a careful tone, "but I wouldn't trust her, if I were you."

"Why not?" Morgana reached over and tugged the key back from Gwaine's grip with a scowl. "She seemed nice enough."

"Just because she's hot, doesn't make her a good person," Gwaine sighed, meeting her gaze with a doubtful expression.

At this, Morgana blushed and got to her feet. "I know, but-"

"Morgana, I know Morgause," he abruptly cut in, "I wouldn't have sent you to her if I didn't."

"So?" Morgana's tone was almost sulky, almost...jealous? Gwaine cast her an incredulous look when a second later, she confirmed his suspicion. "I bet she's never had sex with you."

"You're right," he'd answered slowly after a moment, "but that's not quite what I was getting at. Sit down." In that instant, he'd grabbed himself a warm beer from a box on the floor by his feet and began to chug it back as Morgana sighed and sat back down.

"What were you getting at then?" she asked.

Gwaine licked his lips, considering the girl before him. "You know where I stand, where views on magic and such are concerned," he spoke carefully, and Morgana nodded because of course she did. They all did. But then he gave a long sigh. "Well, Morgause is the same-"

"But surely that's good," Morgana burst out, confused because Gwaine was shaking his head.

"No, no it's not," Gwaine replied, running a hand through his hair. "I mean, it is, but have you seen her husband? Well, no you haven't, of course-but he's a complete tyrant. It's insane. He's an idiot." At that point, his lips curled in contempt as he spoke. "And all he wants is to rule. Mind you, that's all Morgause wants, too. She's determined to have someone with magic sitting where Uther sits now."

"That's what I want too," she shot back, staring back at Gwaine intently. "I thought that's what we all wanted!"

"Yes, but Morgana," he took a deep breath, trying to speak to her in a more careful tone. "She wants someone with magic to be exactly where Uther is-on the other side of the Wall, which won't be going anywhere. If Morgause and fucking Cenred had their way, the divide in Camelot would be stronger than ever, except we'd all be switching sides."

"Oh." Morgana leant back in her chair, thoughtfully, before saying, "well, they'd deserve it."

Gwaine just shook his head and yawned, finishing his beer and opening another.

After that, Morgana saw Morgause at least once a week, always letting herself in quietly before she'd slip downstairs until she was deep underground, where the walls were damp and stone. There Morgause would wait for her and open the bedroom door for her, leading her over to the bed.

They were the only nights Morgana actually enjoyed: when she was watching Morgause's neck glisten with sweat as her head fell back because Morgana's fingers were inside her, or when her tongue was pressing at the dark folds of skin between her legs. It was the heady smell of sex, coupled with the scent of the candles which were lit less for romantic reasons than for sheer convenience-Morgana knew better than most that electricity was expensive-that made her pant with desire, face flushed and hot.

"You're perfect," Morgause had breathed once when Morgana disentangled herself from the soft, pale expanse of the other woman's thighs and ankles and arched feet and allowed herself to be tugged forwards until she was resting, cradled in Morgause's arms. "My perfect girl." And she sighed against Morgause's neck, gasping when fingers gently reached down to open her up, moving in and out with slow, measured thrusts.

It wasn't love, Morgana had told herself, unable to control the way she rocked into Morgause's touch as she'd felt her cunt clench around the woman's fingers, her thoughts nearing incoherency as she'd tried to reason with herself that this was different. Morgana loved Merlin, and loved Freya, and loved Gwaine. What she felt for Morgause was far more animal yet far less basic, and at this point, when the only sounds were of skin hitting skin and drawn out moans, it was hard to imagine a life where she wouldn't need this-wouldn't need someone inside her to take her so thoroughly she thought she might die, or else be brought up to such dizzying heights that it would take years to drag her back.

It wasn't love, but it wasn't bad, and when Morgause tilted Morgana's face up for a kiss that was so much tenderer than demanding, she almost forgot that this wasn't home. She almost forgot every time, right up until she was nudged from the bed and set on her feet, and her money somehow found its way into her trembling hands or straight into her purse. Then she would watch as Morgause ran a hand through her blonde hair and pushed damp strands back from her forehead, looking loose and content.

"I'll see you soon," would be the promise, the signal that told Morgana it was time to nod her head, turn on her heel, and leave.

And it was like that, right up until the moment Gwaine told Merlin that his first appointment was up at the dark house-at Morgause's house, and Morgana had gaped, something painful twisting in her stomach.

"What?" Her startled yell had woken up Freya, who had been curled on the rug by the kitchen table and who now yawned as she stretched pliant limbs.

Merlin had looked down at her and grinned, sliding off his chair to join her and bundling her up into his arms.

"Heya," he murmured, and she'd hugged him tightly for a moment before looking sleepily up at Morgana.

"Wha's wrong?" she asked, eyes alight with concern, despite having just been dragged back from some well needed rest.

"I thought..." Morgana shook her head, swallowing, and then raising her eyes as she tried to keep any tears firmly inside. "I thought Morgause...dammit, she's gay! Why does she want Merlin?"

"First off..." Gwaine got to his feet to walk around the table and check on Freya, resting his hand in her hair for a moment. She practically purred and turned her face to nuzzle up into his hand. After a moment of petting, she was already drifting back off to sleep in Merlin's arms. She'd really had a very late night.

"First off," he started again, "she's bi-which means, I guess, that there's not really a reason why she wouldn't be into Merlin. Apart from maybe the ears..."

"Oi," Merlin cut in, lightly kicking at Gwaine's shins from where he sat on the floor.

But Gwaine stepped out of reach, grinning. "Second, you know that it's bad to get too involved with these people, right? The ones-"

"Who pay me for sex?" Morgana finished for him, "right, yeah. Because it's easy not to get involved with the people you sleep with."

"Morgana," Gwaine sighed, almost pleading.

It was almost like physical pain, the thoughts that ran through his head every night: thoughts about how Uther was getting that much farther ahead every time he allowed Morgana to leave the house with a spare change of clothes, and now Merlin-fucking Merlin, who was too damn sweet and funny to even be real sometimes. Except really, for Gwaine it had stopped being mainly about Uther or any of the Pendragons, or even about getting rid of the bloody Wall. For Gwaine, after admitting Merlin, Morgana and Freya into his house, this whole thing had gotten a hell of a lot more personal.

And to be honest he'd be, if not happy, content just living with these three people who he cared about most, away from Camelot entirely, safe and alone. Let the Wall stay up. Someone else could worry about trying to sort out this fucked up, twisted city.

But he was less than sure that this was a view his companions shared. All three of them were fighters, and even if what they did now was so far below them that it hurt, they would not leave until they were certain there was nothing left to do to set everything right.

Morgana looked at Gwaine for a moment as her hard expression melted. Then she rubbed her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah I know...shouldn't get attached."

"Right," Gwaine nodded, trying to stay in control of the conversation. "Right, and thirdly," he went on, and Morgana let her hands fall in surprise. "Morgause doesn't want to see Merlin. Her husband does."

***

Merlin was used to a lot of things. He was used to being denied. Used to being made to wait until he wanted to scream. But denial wasn't always the same as a rejection, and it was hard for him now to decide which word was most apt when Arthur didn't reply, except with a roll of his eyes and a muttered, "You are quite despicable, Merlin."

At that moment, Merlin chewed the inside of his cheek and frowned at Arthur with his head cocked to the side. "Huh?" he said, wondering if he should be more offended.

But it was hard to feel offended when Arthur was lowering a cloth into the water and making stern shushing noises before crouching down and running it carefully over his face, pressing harder where the dirt seemed darker and more ingrained. Merlin had tried to insist that he could do it because having Arthur so close was making his body react in stupid ways.

Stupid, he thought to himself sharply.

But Arthur had just rolled his eyes some more, pointing out that Merlin hadn't even been able to successfully open a cereal box.

In the end, Merlin stopped asking, and when Arthur put one hand at the back of his head, urging him to tip it back, he did so without complaint. Soon, there was water trickling from the top of his forehead and down into matted black hair.

"God," Arthur grumbled, "it'd be easier to shear this all off."

At this, Merlin's eyes flickered open lazily, and he mumbled, "don't do that," but he had a feeling it came out a lot more unintelligible to Arthur because he'd only frowned and pressed a little harder with the cloth at the crown of his head. Merlin shivered happily in response, though he was vaguely aware that the water must have been pooling on the kitchen floor, making a mess. He wondered if Arthur would clear it up afterwards, or if he was the kind of person who got his girlfriend to do that stuff. Maybe he would get Merlin to clean it. That somehow seemed a lot more likely.

"Hands," Arthur's voice broke through Merlin's pointless thoughts, and he looked at Arthur upside down, bemused. The blonde still looked just as nice at this angle, and Merlin didn't try to stop his face from scrunching up at the unfairness of life.

"Hands, Merlin," Arthur sighed, exasperated, before he moved around until he was in front of Merlin and removed his grip from the back of the boy's head to pick up his hands instead.

Merlin watched as Arthur dunked them in the bowl, feeling the warm soapy water slosh around and in between his fingers. It felt nice, and he smiled widely at Arthur, which made something warm and soft uncurl in the older man's stomach before he shook his head and snatched up the cloth again to roughly scrub Merlin's hands.

"Owww," Merlin whined, even though it really felt like nothing compared to the treatment he was used to. But he liked the way Arthur reacted-how a scathing expression appeared on his face but at the same time, his touch softened. It was a kind of simple care that Merlin wasn't used to coming from anyone but Morgana, Gwaine, and Freya. Thinking about the last two people made something in Merlin's chest tighten, and for a second his shoulders hunched, and he gasped.

"Merlin?" Arthur's hands flitted up his arms, his voice uncertain. "You all right?"

Merlin sucked in a breath and smiled, uncurling. "'Course."

There was a long pause before the blonde spoke again, this time in a more detached tone. "Right. Well then." And suddenly his touch was gone entirely as he picked up the basin, and Merlin quickly removed his hands from inside. "You can wash properly later," Arthur continued, clearing his throat. "I'll show you how to use the shower...if you just clean that up." He nodded towards the puddle on the floor. "I'll get you something to eat."

A fair exchange, Merlin thought as he dried his hands and face on the towel Arthur passed him and then used the same material to mop up the floor. From down here, he had a perfect view of Arthur's behind as he stretched up for the top cupboard to get out glasses and bowls.

"Finished!" he exclaimed after a moment as he started to get back up on his feet, only to fall down again with a frustrated gasp. "Fuck's sake."

At this, Arthur quickly turned round, eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?" As soon as he saw the younger man on the floor, he reached down instinctively to help him up, and Merlin hesitated before taking his hands and allowing himself to be hauled to his feet. Again.

"Sorry," he mumbled, managing to stoop and finally pick up the wet towel without falling and give it back to a disgruntled Arthur. "I just...I need my fucking legs to work!"

"Well, you're not having trouble from lack of use, obviously," Arthur replied with a sigh as he went back to the kitchen counter to pour oil into a pan and then set it over the rings on the oven. "Did you walk all the way here?"

"Yeah." Merlin leaned against the counter, his arms folded as he watched Arthur crack an egg on the edge of the pan, pulling the shell so that the gooey inside fell onto the metal. Merlin sighed when he saw the yolk spread quickly. "I could've done it better," he muttered.

In response Arthur's eyebrows, if possible, rose even further, and Merlin was suddenly reminded of Gaius. For the second time in ten minutes, he felt his breath constrict in his throat, and his eyes slid shut as he regained control.

The older man didn't really seem to notice though. "You could not," he drawled scathingly, snatching up a spatula and sliding it beneath the bubbling egg white.

"You can't dip bread in the yolk if it's all spread out like that," he complained, happy to find the pain in his chest easing with Arthur there to tease. "You need it to go all...all globby in the middle."

There was a long pause before Merlin raised his head to meet the other's half-incredulous gaze. "Globby," Arthur slowly repeated as he removed the pan from the stove and chivvied Merlin out of the way so he could tip the egg onto a plate and put it down on the table.

"Exactly," Merlin answered in a heartbeat, carefully manoeuvring himself into a chair and pulling the plate to him.

Arthur only sighed and wrenched open a draw to get cutlery. But that was when he was distracted again by a frankly disgusting noise and looked back to grimace at the sight of Merlin, eating the fried egg with his hands like it was a bloody sandwich.

"Merlin," he griped, taking a knife and fork and shoving them beneath Merlin's nose. "Are you always this gross?"

"Only when I haven't eaten in three days," Merlin shot back, mouth full even as he took the proffered cutlery.

Later that morning, Arthur made him two more eggs and seven slices of toast, only wincing a tiny bit when the younger boy dropped a piece, butter face down, on his lap and then picked it up and wolfed it down, obviously hoping the blonde hadn't noticed.

By the time his third egg was deemed perfectly globulous by Merlin, Arthur was surprised by the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth when the boy smacked his lips and licked his fingers clean afterwards.

***

Gwen woke as sunlight shot streaks of gold through the room, settling over her face and making her eyelids flutter.

"Mmm," she mumbled, stretching and twisting beneath the duvet before burying her face in her pillow. "Arrrthur." She reached out blindly, one hand waving in the air as she searched for her boyfriend. After a few moments of fruitless flailing, Gwen lifted her head and frowned at the space that Arthur should have been occupying.

It took her a second to wonder why she thought Arthur might still be in bed beside her, considering the fact that he always got up so early. She sighed sleepily and scrambled around before sitting up, thinking that if her boyfriend was here, he could have kissed her forehead or something, which would have been nice.

"Ugh, life," she groaned then gave a long sigh. "I need to stop talking to myself."

A few minutes later, she was on her feet, padding across the room to pick up and pull on Arthur's dressing gown. As she snuggled down into the material, she found herself making a content little noise. Apparently, Gwen always tended to make a lot of noise in the morning-it was just that no one was ever around to hear it.

She left the room then, intending to head downstairs and maybe eat some toast, but was suddenly pulled up short by the sight of another girl on the landing. Morgana was just leaving the guest room with her dark hair tangling around her shoulders. She was still wearing the pyjamas Gwen had leant her.

"Good morning," Gwen said uncertainly, resting one hand on the banister as she wondered whether to go on down to the kitchen or to wait for the other girl.

But her response was not as cordial. "Merlin's not in bed," Morgana spoke, her eyes slightly narrowed with suspicion. But then she yawned, nostrils flaring, and Gwen couldn't help but smile slightly. Morgana almost looked ugly when she yawned, just like every other person-except there was also something strangely endearing about seeing her lose control of her expression, too caught up in the action to even cover her mouth.

"I'm sure he's downstairs then," Gwen offered with a slight chuckle, "uhm. Shall we go check?"

She took a step, and after a moment Morgana had brought herself to join her and the two of them walked down together.

***

Arthur had been leaning against the kitchen doorframe when Gwen caught him by surprise, wrapping her arms around his waist and standing on tiptoes to kiss the edge of his jaw. He tensed for a second at the feel of her against him but then relaxed and even smiled a little.

"Hey," he laughed around the word, twisting his neck to look down at her.

"Hello," Gwen smiled before she released him and walked into the kitchen, followed closely by Morgana. "Morning, Merlin," she beamed, waving a little at the boy sitting at her table. In response, he'd waved back enthusiastically, though he'd been the only one who missed the way Arthur rolled his eyes.

Morgana glared at Arthur for that and pulled up a chair, sitting beside Merlin and pressing their legs together under the table. "You could've woken me," she began in an accusatory tone.

At first, Merlin had the decency to look a little guilty, but then he was shuffling even closer, his head dropping to rest on her shoulder. "Didn't want to," he shrugged, revelling in the feeling of protection that came with having Morgana so close. "You were tired."

"Not that tired," she replied, but there was a smile on her face this time, and her own cheek was resting against the top of Merlin's head.

With some bemusement, Arthur and Gwen watched this display of affection, and when the couple caught each other's eyes, they both looked away quickly, blushing.

"You've had breakfast then," Gwen spoke, if only to remind the other two that she and Arthur were still in the room.

In that instant, Merlin nodded, sitting up again and stretching. "I taught Arthur to make eggs," he spoke with a triumphant grin, and Arthur frowned, thinking it on the verge of sinful for the boy to be smiling at him like that, at the same time as his whole body curved when he put his arms in the air.

But Gwen just laughed. "Really? I've tried that at least twenty times and he's still awful at it."

Almost immediately, Arthur shook himself, forcing his gaze away from Merlin even as the boy giggled delightedly. "I am not," he insisted before turning to Morgana with a raised eyebrow. "Are you hungry?"

As Arthur looked at her, her hand tightened convulsively over Merlin's knee, and she felt him stroking gently over her knuckles almost subconsciously. It was a thing they had, which hadn't been limited only to little touches...Morgana and Merlin often comforted each other without realising they were doing it: reassuring each other with absentminded nudges and glances.

"Yeah," Morgana said after a moment, "really hungry."

But Arthur only gave a long, suffering sigh. "Well, we're out of eggs," the blonde continued, as if he hadn't noticed her hesitation. "Your boyfriend made sure of that."

At once, Merlin's mouth popped open in surprise. Although the idea of him and Morgana going out wasn't completely insane, it still most certainly was not going to happen-especially when his dreams last night had consisted mainly of Arthur. However, Morgana made no attempt to correct the older man and instead opted to get to her feet, her fingers sliding gently out from beneath Merlin's.

"I'll eat anything," she spoke with a shrug, moving round the table to look at the opened boxes of cereal on the kitchen counter.

Merlin pursed his lips for a moment, waiting for Morgana to add 'oh and, by the way, Merlin isn't my boyfriend' so that he could get back to fancying Arthur without any hindrance, but when it appeared that she wasn't going to say anything, he chipped in:

"We aren't going out, you know? We're just..."

And he stopped all of a sudden when Morgana looked at him, smirking slightly as he struggled to come up with a suitable noun.

"Just...friends," Merlin finished lamely.

Arthur snorted. "I can't imagine any of my friends carrying me across the Wall," he informed them, before shaking his head slightly. "Well whatever. Guinevere, I'm going out."

Gwen, who had been watching Morgana's hands as they tapped lightly on the countertop, looked at Arthur instead. "Okay," she replied with a smile, albeit a little sadly. "For how long?"

But Arthur only shrugged, already turning to go. "Couple of hours?" he spoke, purposefully not tacking on the 'however long it takes to clear my head' because then everyone would probably know he wouldn't be back until very late that evening. Possibly early tomorrow morning.

"Right," Gwen answered with a nod, at the same time as Merlin abruptly blurted, "Can I come too?" and Morgana pushed herself forwards-towards Arthur- her hands balling into fists.

Part 4