many, many drabbles
Author: Chaos (chaoschild92)
Title: Peace Offerings
Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Morgana, Gwen, Uther, a kitten called Kilgarrah and also the Doctor! (yay)
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Morgana/Gwen
Warnings: Rush job, no beta, the quality varies
Rating: vary again from pg-13 to maybe m
Spoiler Warnings: None, this sort of thing only seems to happen in my imagination.
Disclaimer: If they were mine I would have had internet for the past week and a half.
Summary: A whole heap of drabbles to make up for my absence.
Author's Notes: Alright, so it's technically already the twenty-first but I don't have anything written yet given that I've just spent several hours setting up the internet, having just arrived home. But now I have internet and so have a drabble for each day that I missed.
Day Five
Arthur shifted awkwardly, trying to get comfortable by bringing his free arm up to act as a pillow behind his head.
“This was a stupid idea.” He informed the night sky. Merlin, snuggled against his side with his head resting on the blonde man’s chest hushed him. Arthur refused to be hushed.
“I don’t understand why we’re out here.” He went on. “Normal people are inside doing some last minute wrapping. Or, heaven forbid, actually getting some sleep while they wait for Santa to shower them with gifts. And, instead of doing any of these things, we’re out here in a bloody freezing cold field!” Merlin turned his head, looking up at Arthur’s chin, which was all he could see without lifting his head.
“It’s not a stupid idea.” He contradicted, sounding a little put out. “It’s a magical idea. I think it’s a magical idea.” Arthur sighed and opened his mouth. Anything else he might have thought to say was forestalled, however, by Merlin sitting abruptly upright. This, unfortunately, loosened the blanket that had been wrapped around their intertwined limbs, leaving Arthur open to the freezing night air, which rushed in, still freezing in spite of multiple layers of warm clothing.
“Look.” Merlin breathed, and Arthur felt all the argument drain away as the young man’s face lit up, his arm extended to the heavens. Arthur smiled softly, reaching out to trace the delicate skin at the corner of Merlin’s lips, parted in abject wonder. The object of his loving regard turned to him, starlight reflected in blue eyes and an irritated expression on his face.
“Arthur, you’re not looking.” He complained. Arthur smiled softly at him.
“Oh I’m looking alright.” He murmured, hand shifting so he could trace more of Merlin’s face in the semi-darkness. He could feel a blush rising in Merlin’s delicate cheeks despite the black and white lighting that had leeched all colour from the world.
“Make a wish.” Merlin whispered, Arthur’s fingertips feeling his lips forming the shape of the words. Arthur just had time for a smile as he leant forward, eyes flickering shut as he wished with all his might.
Day Six
Merlin sat in the tree, one leg dangling down in an indication of the direction of gravity as snow soaked through his jeans. He stared out into the forest as Arthur followed his footprints through the newly fallen snow, coming to a stop just below the tree. He leaned against the trunk, hands tucked into his pockets as Merlin contemplated the silence of the woods.
“Aren’t you cold?” He asked at length. Merlin, eyes still focussed through the trees and onto some distant future shook his head. Then he considered it.
“Well.” He said. “I think I could use a hat.”
“Not surprised.” Arthur told him, tilting his head back and squinting against the glare. “With ears that size you must lose half your body heat out here.” Merlin glanced down at him with a wry smile as Arthur dug his hands deeper into his pockets. “However I think you might be in luck, I happen to have just the thing…” He trailed off and Merlin watched in genial bemusement for a moment before Arthur pulled out a paper crown in bright pink, holding it up with a grin. Merlin raised an eyebrow.
“A different hat.” He told Arthur with a smile. The blonde shrugged, tucking the cracker hat away and pulling out a beanie, which he tossed up to Merlin. He caught it, nearly falling out of the tree in the process, and eased it over his dark hair and the tips of his ears. Arthur sighed, settling back to lean against the trunk while Merlin leant against the same much higher up.
“I just needed a moment.” He said at length. Arthur didn’t look up, nodding into the forest.
“I know.” He said. Merlin went on, eyes sliding out of focus again.
“It was always just me and mum before. And being here is…” Arthur nodded again.
“I know.” Merlin nodded in agreement and they lapsed back into a comfortable silence as the first few snowflakes of another snowstorm began to fall.
Day Seven
The small cemetery is silent. Silent as the grave, Pellinore thinks to himself and smiles a little sadly. Owain would have liked that. He would have laughed. Self-consciously carrying the bunch of flowers he crosses through the churned up snow towards one of the more recent graves. Now is a time for remembering those who are gone. For remembering the dead.
He puts the flowers down quickly, looking at their wilting lavender beauty and can’t help but think that Owain would have laughed at them too. Determinedly he kneels down, straightening the bundle up to sit properly against the heavy grave stone. It still looks inadequate but he feels less so.
He sits down on the stone, staring down at the earth that had settled back into place in the time that has passed. He runs his fingers along the stone, slowly wearing smooth and already ice cold. He remembers the feel of Owain’s hair between these fingers, his skin against these palms, his breath, his lips, his life. Then he sighs, opening his eyes again and staring out towards the wall.
“I really wish you were alive.” He mutters in a conversational tone, just the slightest catch in his voice. He sighs. “I really, really do.”
Day Eight
Morgana held her hand out imperiously for yet another Christmas decoration. Gwen, balancing the cardboard box on her hip passed another one up quite amiably. She looked back down, pulling a face as she pulled out a felt reindeer that resembled the woollen one knitted into the front of her sweater. She handed it up to Morgana, studying the girls elegant white shirt, v-necked and knitted so lightly that it looked as if it might float off at any moment.
“Why is it,” She asked as Morgana carefully descended the stepladder, peering over her shoulder to make sure her feet were safely on the rungs. “That you always look impeccable while I manage to look like something a child made in arts and crafts?” Morgana brushed herself off, smiling at Gwen.
“I think you look gorgeous darling.” She reassured her, leaning forward to peck her on the cheek. “Mistletoe you know.” She gestured upwards and Gwen reflexively glanced in that direction just as Morgana danced towards the door.
“There’s no mistletoe.” She pointed out, frowning as she followed her girlfriend towards the door.
“No.” Morgana admitted, catching her in the doorway. “But there is now.” Gwen, about to glance up was forestalled by Morgana’s small but firm hand on her chin. Just as her eyelids flickered shut Gwen decided that maybe she didn’t mind so much if Morgana had been lying.
Day Nine
Arthur’s hair sparkled like spun gold as he circled around Merlin, sitting on his arse, which was growing colder and wetter by the second, for the third time.
“Why don’t you just admit it?” Arthur asked, nonchalantly pretending to buff his fingernails as he switched to skating backwards, still gliding perfectly smoothly on what, as far as Merlin could see, was pitted and lumpy ice just waiting to crack and dump someone into the freezing water beneath.
“That I’m right.” Arthur told him. He paused, executing a small spin with a look of intense concentration on his face, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. He came to a stop facing Merlin and broke into a grin. “I’m always right.” He added, a little out of breath. Merlin rolled his eyes, feeling his feet slip out from under him as he landed painfully on his tailbone once again.
“You’re always right Arthur.” He muttered, rolling his eyes. Arthur frowned.
“That didn’t sound very sincere.” He scolded. Merlin rolled his eyes again.
“Why are we even ice skating?” He asked, struggling onto his feet and wobbling there uncertainly. “Ice skating is stupid.” This time it was Arthur who rolled his eyes, seizing Merlin’s hand and pulling his struggling boyfriend along in his wake.
“It’s not stupid.” He corrected. “It’s fun.” And after a little while Merlin had to admit that, hand clutched tightly in Arthur’s, whizzing around the edges of the small pond was fun. They stopped in the middle, his cheeks pink and warm as he caught his breath.
“You’re right absolutely right Arthur.” He said, grinning stupidly. “You’re always right.”
Day Ten
Merlin curled his fingers around the mug Gwen slid across the table towards him.
“Here, have a nice cup of tea.” He smiled up at her as she slid the other’s their drinks and took a sip.
“Lovely.” He decided and Gwen smiled at him before turning and waltzing away, empty tray tucked under her arm.
“I don’t fully understand why we’re here.” Arthur whined beside him, sipping from his coffee. Morgana rolled her eyes as Merlin pulled a face at him.
“Because ice skating is fun.” His adoptive sister pointed out in her loftiest tone. Merlin nodded, taking another sip of tea. Arthur pulled a face this time.
“But the pond is frozen at home, we could just have gone skating there.” Morgana shrugged, sipping from her drink.
“Gwen works here.” She pointed out simply. Merlin grinned, inhaling the smell of his tea, even leaning forward so the steam could blow across his skin.
“And you make awful tea.” He told his boyfriend. Arthur smiled in return.
Day Eleven
Merlin tossed uncomfortably under the quilt as Arthur cleared the tray, containing the remains of his lunch, away to the kitchen. He came back to find Merlin snuggled down once again and watching him with fever bright eyes.
“Tell me a story?” He asked in his scratchy, pathetically diseased voice. Arthur rolled his eyes but relented, shooing Merlin over in the bed so he could settle down on top of the covers beside him.
“What would you like to hear a story about?” He asked dutifully. Merlin sucked on his bottom lip as he thought.
“A fairytale.” He said at last. Arthur sighed. “Please?” Merlin begged, looking up at him with heavily lidded eyes. Arthur relented.
“Alright.” He conceded. “Once upon a time there was a very handsome prince named Arthur and a boy named Merlin, who was Arthur’s very clumsy…manservant?” Merlin sniffed, pulling the quilt up higher and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Arthur scowled and flicked his overheated forehead.
“That’s not what I meant Merlin.” He said reprovingly. Merlin smiled.
“I know.” He said stuffily. Arthur sighed but continued.
“And in spite of his annoying nature Arthur loved Merlin very much.” He went on in a softer voice, stroking the dark, sweat soaked hair back from Merlin’s damp skin. Merlin smiled, turning his head until his nose brushed against Arthur’s palm.
“I know.” He said again, sleepily this time, as his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of Arthur’s wrist. Arthur sat for a moment, staring sappily down at the adorably sleepy expression on Merlin’s face. Then the blue eyes snapped open, ruining the peaceful visage.
“What happened?” He asked.
“What?” Arthur started out of his stupor and blinked down at Merlin.
“To the prince and his…manservant…?” He asked, pausing suggestively. Arthur rolled his eyes, smiling fondly.
Day Twelve
Merlin stared at the tree, that was now taking up a significant amount of the available space in the living room of his flat.
“What is it?” He asked Gwen, who was hidden by the trees bulk, examining the cage and the patently miserable bird that hung on the other side.
“I think it’s a partridge.” She said. He frowned.
“What? Why?” She came back into view, cage in hand, and set it down on the coffee table, piled high with paper covered in closely spaced writing and used coffee mugs.
“The old song.” She told him, crouching down to peer into the cage, poking her fingers through the bars in an effort to attract the bird’s attention.
“What old song?” Merlin asked, frowning in confusion.
“The twelve days of Christmas.” She told him. “You know, on the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree.” Merlin frowned, critically examining the tree.
“Is it a pear tree?” He asked. She shrugged.
“I suppose so.” His frown deepened.
“Then where are all the pears? I like pears.” Gwen turned to look at him, her expression suggesting she was torn between exasperation and fond adoration.
“Pears don’t grow in winter.” She told him. He sighed.
“Oh.” He sank down into a chair. “What happens in the rest of the song?” He asked. She twisted, sitting down on the floor.
“The true love gives a different gift each of the twelve days of Christmas.” He groaned.
“What are they?” He asked. She started humming.
“There are five gold rings.” She said thoughtfully. “On the fifth day. And there are lords a leaping and maids a milking at some point.” He groaned more loudly.
“Why is he doing this to me?” He asked, throwing his arm out. There was a sound suspiciously like Gwen laughing.
“I think he’s trying to prove a point.” She said at last, apparently having gotten her mirth under control. Merlin sat up with a sigh.
“He doesn’t need to prove anything.” He said grumpily. Gwen smiled.
“I think it’s sweet.” She told him. “And you know Arthur, any excuse to throw money at you.” Merlin sighed heavily, getting up from his chair and wandering towards the door.
“I hate Christmas.” He said, tone defeated. Gwen bounced to his side, linking her arm through his.
“Just enjoy it.” She advised him. “It only happens once a year.”
Day Thirteen
Merlin sat back from the table, hands crossed over his stomach as he grinned at his mother.
“I really can’t eat any more.” He promised her. She smiled at him with one eyebrow cocked in a dangerous fashion.
“Are you sure?” She asked. He nodded definitely.
“No more.” He told her, watching fondly as what looked like everyone he’d ever known in his childhood tucked in around the assembly of tables in the kitchen. “But that’s alright, I’m sure they can manage without me.”
Arthur sat at the table, staring at his own reflection in the highly polished wooden surface. He looked up as Morgana kicked him to find her making faces. After glancing at his father, absorbed in the thin slices of meat arranged delicately on his plate, he pulled one back.
“Arthur, don’t make faces.” Uther’s voice was low but brooked no argument. Glaring at his sister, looking smug, Arthur looked back down at the table.
Day Fourteen
Arthur turned the engine of the car off and just sat in the warm interior, staring out at the snowy day. Even with the headlights on visibility was low. For a moment he considered that maybe just being here was enough. Perhaps his presence could be sensed from the car. Then he shook off the weakness and opened the door.
The wind was icy as he pushed through what literally felt like a wall of snow. His gloved hand was closed tightly around the tiny flower Merlin had grown for him in the greenhouse just so that it would blossom at this time of year. It was truly magic, what Merlin could do with plants.
The first hint he had that he might have reached the graveyard was when he stubbed his toe on the first gravestone. He knelt down, peering through the snow at the name. Pellinore. He was here.
He dropped the flower, letting the crushed petals and bruised stem blow away, and sank down to sit in the cold snow. He looked to his left, where he knew the list of familiar names would continue, and then to the right, where the names of unknown soldiers trailed away into the darkness. Then he bowed his head in silent vigil.
Day Fifteen
A lot of time has passed, Merlin remembers, as he cautiously raises his goblet to the proud and haughty creature that was once Morgana. She raises her goblet in return and he thinks he sees something like regret in her eyes. But he remembers.
Morgana standing over Arthur was a sword held tight in her hands. Ready to bring it down on the Prince’s unprotected throat as he stared blankly up at her.
Morgana’s features twisted as she hurled spell after spell at Gwen, who crawled rapidly away from her, gaining her feet only to topple back down, blood streaming from a wound on her leg.
Morgana chanting over a cauldron as he gradually worked his way through her layers and layers of spells, fighting to find the balance between haste and speed as he fought to get to her in time.
But he also remembers other things.
Morgana laughing merrily as she sits in Gaius’ rooms, her fingers curled delicately around a cup of tea.
Morgana tossing and turning in the grip of a dream, face beading with sweat as he watched her, desperately wishing there was something he could do to help. Unsure whether waking her would be wise or even safe.
Morgana pale and limp in his arms, her eyes dull as she looked at him, words stumbling over her delicately coloured lips.
So he raised his glass higher, letting a slight smile touch his mouth.
“To the season.” He says, his voice echoing oddly in the cave. “And the moment of respite it has brought us.”
Day Sixteen
Merlin stared around the interior of the little blue box in awe. There seemed to be movement everywhere. The lights kept changing colour and occasionally something would emit a burst of noise or a little puff of steam. He blinked and could have sworn that everything in the entire space had changed in the time it took.
“It’s…amazing.” He breathed.
“Well yes.” The man beside him, the young man with the old eyes, cocked his head to the side and studied the interior of the box anew. “It is rather wonderful isn’t it?” Merlin sighed again and shook his head, almost at a loss for words.
“It’s…it’s…” He searched. “It’s more than that.” He said at length. “It’s magic.” The man, who had introduced himself only as ‘the Doctor’ swung past his, taking a small set of steps Merlin hadn’t noticed in giant bounds.
“Yes.” He said, then he held a finger to his lips. “Keep the magic secret.”
Day Seventeen
Merlin pressed his forehead to the glass, staring out at the world beyond. His feet, warmly wrapped in hand knitted socks that had arrived in the post that morning, were curled under him as his breath and the warmth of his body regularly fogged up then melted away from the view of outside. He felt strangely at peace, almost melancholy. Wrapped in his own cocoon of silence. In the other room he could hear Gwen and Morgana giggling but it seemed very far away, even muffled only by the thin walls.
It got briefly louder as the door opened, then softer again as it slid shut. Merlin didn’t turn around.
“I love snow.” He said softly. He could hear Arthur moving across the messy, dimly lit room and he felt the added warmth of Arthur’s calloused palm settle across the back of his neck.
“Do you?” He asked, voice shattering the peace of the room. “I hate it. Can’t go outside, can’t go anywhere without ending up all wet when you come inside again. It’s awful!” Merlin turned, exasperated. His frown lit on Arthur, standing and staring out the window, a steaming mug in one hand. Instead of shouting he just smiled, watching the expressions flicker over Arthur’s face as he thought with a distinct feeling of fondness. Finally the young man noticed.
“What’s that sappy expression for?” He asked. Merlin shrugged, still smiling to himself as he turned back to the window.
“Nothing.” He said cheerfully. “Now go and drink your hot chocolate somewhere else and leave me with the snow.” Grumbling, Arthur obeyed.
Day Eighteen
Uther sneezed the first instant he set foot in the apartment. It was an amazing, trumpet of a sneeze. It brought Merlin rushing out of the kitchen, looking even more ridiculous than usual n his gangle legged stride with the oven mitts Gwen had bought him for Christmas on his hands. They were silicone with little faces moulded into them. He had christened them the guppies.
The stare, which usually led to either a pale and furious Merlin or a flaming row was somewhat diluted by the watery eyes. Uther glared.
“Is there a cat in here?” He demanded in what might have been an imperious tone were it not for the huge sniff he was forced to take in the middle.
“Why yes.” Arthur told his father, relaxing in one of the comfortable, if slightly ragged, armchairs with the offending creature in his lap. “I gave him to Merlin for Christmas.” Uther glared at him with impotent fury, but whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by another giant sneeze. Still glaring, he retreated outside.
Merlin, looking rather comical with the guppies, one dark blue and one bright pink, pressed over his mouth, stared at Arthur with wide eyes as the blonde laughed. After a moment he joined in. When they’d both finally recovered Merlin finally spoke.
“Did you know he was allergic to cats?” He asked. Arthur nodded, still grinning hugely. Through the thick windows of the apartment they could hear the roar of Uther’s car as he sped away. Merlin grinned.
“You’re brilliant.”
Day Nineteen
Merlin gritted his teeth as the last notes died away.
“Remind me why you bought him that again?” He asked Gwen through gritted teeth. She shrugged, grinning at him.
“You’ll thank me one day.” She promised, as Arthur resumed whatever he was doing to the guitar in his room, definitely nothing good, which was causing the decorations on the tree to shake and the paper strewn around its base to tremble.
“Yes.” Merlin replied. “But I hate you now.” Gwen’s smile didn’t falter though she did wince as a particularly loud whine from the bedroom. Merlin’s vindictive joy was quickly replaced by irritation as she set her half finished tea aside and gathered her coat.
“I’ll just be off home then.” She said. “Morgana should have slept off the last of the eggnog by now.” Merlin scowled as he accompanied her to the door. She turned at the threshold, posing theatrically.
“That’s the other reason we bought it you know.” She told him cheerfully. “We don’t have to live with him.” Merlin’s snappy retort died on his tongue as the door swung shut. He scowled at it for a moment then threw up his hands as Arthur resumed his noise-making.
“Gwen!” He yelled, flinging the door open and plunging after her. “Wait for me!”
Day Twenty
Merlin dropped to sit on the floor beside Gwen, wrapping paper, ribbons and sticky tape spilling from his arms, the latter rolling away under the bed. He scowled and dropped the items he had managed to hold onto haphazardly into her lap and rolled over, peering into the dark and dusty resources. There was some uncomfortable wiggling as he tried to negotiate the narrow gap between the two beds while his arm stretched as far as it could but he finally pulled it out. Gwen smiled, taking it from his fingers.
“Well done.” She congratulated. “Now which ones do you want to wrap?” Merlin beamed.
“The square ones.” He told her. She scowled but duly handed him the pile of books and boxes before turning to examine her own, much smaller but more oddly shaped pile.
“I don’t think that’s quite fair.” She told him, before setting to work.
Title: Peace Offerings
Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Morgana, Gwen, Uther, a kitten called Kilgarrah and also the Doctor! (yay)
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Morgana/Gwen
Warnings: Rush job, no beta, the quality varies
Rating: vary again from pg-13 to maybe m
Spoiler Warnings: None, this sort of thing only seems to happen in my imagination.
Disclaimer: If they were mine I would have had internet for the past week and a half.
Summary: A whole heap of drabbles to make up for my absence.
Author's Notes: Alright, so it's technically already the twenty-first but I don't have anything written yet given that I've just spent several hours setting up the internet, having just arrived home. But now I have internet and so have a drabble for each day that I missed.
Day Five
Arthur shifted awkwardly, trying to get comfortable by bringing his free arm up to act as a pillow behind his head.
“This was a stupid idea.” He informed the night sky. Merlin, snuggled against his side with his head resting on the blonde man’s chest hushed him. Arthur refused to be hushed.
“I don’t understand why we’re out here.” He went on. “Normal people are inside doing some last minute wrapping. Or, heaven forbid, actually getting some sleep while they wait for Santa to shower them with gifts. And, instead of doing any of these things, we’re out here in a bloody freezing cold field!” Merlin turned his head, looking up at Arthur’s chin, which was all he could see without lifting his head.
“It’s not a stupid idea.” He contradicted, sounding a little put out. “It’s a magical idea. I think it’s a magical idea.” Arthur sighed and opened his mouth. Anything else he might have thought to say was forestalled, however, by Merlin sitting abruptly upright. This, unfortunately, loosened the blanket that had been wrapped around their intertwined limbs, leaving Arthur open to the freezing night air, which rushed in, still freezing in spite of multiple layers of warm clothing.
“Look.” Merlin breathed, and Arthur felt all the argument drain away as the young man’s face lit up, his arm extended to the heavens. Arthur smiled softly, reaching out to trace the delicate skin at the corner of Merlin’s lips, parted in abject wonder. The object of his loving regard turned to him, starlight reflected in blue eyes and an irritated expression on his face.
“Arthur, you’re not looking.” He complained. Arthur smiled softly at him.
“Oh I’m looking alright.” He murmured, hand shifting so he could trace more of Merlin’s face in the semi-darkness. He could feel a blush rising in Merlin’s delicate cheeks despite the black and white lighting that had leeched all colour from the world.
“Make a wish.” Merlin whispered, Arthur’s fingertips feeling his lips forming the shape of the words. Arthur just had time for a smile as he leant forward, eyes flickering shut as he wished with all his might.
Day Six
Merlin sat in the tree, one leg dangling down in an indication of the direction of gravity as snow soaked through his jeans. He stared out into the forest as Arthur followed his footprints through the newly fallen snow, coming to a stop just below the tree. He leaned against the trunk, hands tucked into his pockets as Merlin contemplated the silence of the woods.
“Aren’t you cold?” He asked at length. Merlin, eyes still focussed through the trees and onto some distant future shook his head. Then he considered it.
“Well.” He said. “I think I could use a hat.”
“Not surprised.” Arthur told him, tilting his head back and squinting against the glare. “With ears that size you must lose half your body heat out here.” Merlin glanced down at him with a wry smile as Arthur dug his hands deeper into his pockets. “However I think you might be in luck, I happen to have just the thing…” He trailed off and Merlin watched in genial bemusement for a moment before Arthur pulled out a paper crown in bright pink, holding it up with a grin. Merlin raised an eyebrow.
“A different hat.” He told Arthur with a smile. The blonde shrugged, tucking the cracker hat away and pulling out a beanie, which he tossed up to Merlin. He caught it, nearly falling out of the tree in the process, and eased it over his dark hair and the tips of his ears. Arthur sighed, settling back to lean against the trunk while Merlin leant against the same much higher up.
“I just needed a moment.” He said at length. Arthur didn’t look up, nodding into the forest.
“I know.” He said. Merlin went on, eyes sliding out of focus again.
“It was always just me and mum before. And being here is…” Arthur nodded again.
“I know.” Merlin nodded in agreement and they lapsed back into a comfortable silence as the first few snowflakes of another snowstorm began to fall.
Day Seven
The small cemetery is silent. Silent as the grave, Pellinore thinks to himself and smiles a little sadly. Owain would have liked that. He would have laughed. Self-consciously carrying the bunch of flowers he crosses through the churned up snow towards one of the more recent graves. Now is a time for remembering those who are gone. For remembering the dead.
He puts the flowers down quickly, looking at their wilting lavender beauty and can’t help but think that Owain would have laughed at them too. Determinedly he kneels down, straightening the bundle up to sit properly against the heavy grave stone. It still looks inadequate but he feels less so.
He sits down on the stone, staring down at the earth that had settled back into place in the time that has passed. He runs his fingers along the stone, slowly wearing smooth and already ice cold. He remembers the feel of Owain’s hair between these fingers, his skin against these palms, his breath, his lips, his life. Then he sighs, opening his eyes again and staring out towards the wall.
“I really wish you were alive.” He mutters in a conversational tone, just the slightest catch in his voice. He sighs. “I really, really do.”
Day Eight
Morgana held her hand out imperiously for yet another Christmas decoration. Gwen, balancing the cardboard box on her hip passed another one up quite amiably. She looked back down, pulling a face as she pulled out a felt reindeer that resembled the woollen one knitted into the front of her sweater. She handed it up to Morgana, studying the girls elegant white shirt, v-necked and knitted so lightly that it looked as if it might float off at any moment.
“Why is it,” She asked as Morgana carefully descended the stepladder, peering over her shoulder to make sure her feet were safely on the rungs. “That you always look impeccable while I manage to look like something a child made in arts and crafts?” Morgana brushed herself off, smiling at Gwen.
“I think you look gorgeous darling.” She reassured her, leaning forward to peck her on the cheek. “Mistletoe you know.” She gestured upwards and Gwen reflexively glanced in that direction just as Morgana danced towards the door.
“There’s no mistletoe.” She pointed out, frowning as she followed her girlfriend towards the door.
“No.” Morgana admitted, catching her in the doorway. “But there is now.” Gwen, about to glance up was forestalled by Morgana’s small but firm hand on her chin. Just as her eyelids flickered shut Gwen decided that maybe she didn’t mind so much if Morgana had been lying.
Day Nine
Arthur’s hair sparkled like spun gold as he circled around Merlin, sitting on his arse, which was growing colder and wetter by the second, for the third time.
“Why don’t you just admit it?” Arthur asked, nonchalantly pretending to buff his fingernails as he switched to skating backwards, still gliding perfectly smoothly on what, as far as Merlin could see, was pitted and lumpy ice just waiting to crack and dump someone into the freezing water beneath.
“That I’m right.” Arthur told him. He paused, executing a small spin with a look of intense concentration on his face, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. He came to a stop facing Merlin and broke into a grin. “I’m always right.” He added, a little out of breath. Merlin rolled his eyes, feeling his feet slip out from under him as he landed painfully on his tailbone once again.
“You’re always right Arthur.” He muttered, rolling his eyes. Arthur frowned.
“That didn’t sound very sincere.” He scolded. Merlin rolled his eyes again.
“Why are we even ice skating?” He asked, struggling onto his feet and wobbling there uncertainly. “Ice skating is stupid.” This time it was Arthur who rolled his eyes, seizing Merlin’s hand and pulling his struggling boyfriend along in his wake.
“It’s not stupid.” He corrected. “It’s fun.” And after a little while Merlin had to admit that, hand clutched tightly in Arthur’s, whizzing around the edges of the small pond was fun. They stopped in the middle, his cheeks pink and warm as he caught his breath.
“You’re right absolutely right Arthur.” He said, grinning stupidly. “You’re always right.”
Day Ten
Merlin curled his fingers around the mug Gwen slid across the table towards him.
“Here, have a nice cup of tea.” He smiled up at her as she slid the other’s their drinks and took a sip.
“Lovely.” He decided and Gwen smiled at him before turning and waltzing away, empty tray tucked under her arm.
“I don’t fully understand why we’re here.” Arthur whined beside him, sipping from his coffee. Morgana rolled her eyes as Merlin pulled a face at him.
“Because ice skating is fun.” His adoptive sister pointed out in her loftiest tone. Merlin nodded, taking another sip of tea. Arthur pulled a face this time.
“But the pond is frozen at home, we could just have gone skating there.” Morgana shrugged, sipping from her drink.
“Gwen works here.” She pointed out simply. Merlin grinned, inhaling the smell of his tea, even leaning forward so the steam could blow across his skin.
“And you make awful tea.” He told his boyfriend. Arthur smiled in return.
Day Eleven
Merlin tossed uncomfortably under the quilt as Arthur cleared the tray, containing the remains of his lunch, away to the kitchen. He came back to find Merlin snuggled down once again and watching him with fever bright eyes.
“Tell me a story?” He asked in his scratchy, pathetically diseased voice. Arthur rolled his eyes but relented, shooing Merlin over in the bed so he could settle down on top of the covers beside him.
“What would you like to hear a story about?” He asked dutifully. Merlin sucked on his bottom lip as he thought.
“A fairytale.” He said at last. Arthur sighed. “Please?” Merlin begged, looking up at him with heavily lidded eyes. Arthur relented.
“Alright.” He conceded. “Once upon a time there was a very handsome prince named Arthur and a boy named Merlin, who was Arthur’s very clumsy…manservant?” Merlin sniffed, pulling the quilt up higher and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Arthur scowled and flicked his overheated forehead.
“That’s not what I meant Merlin.” He said reprovingly. Merlin smiled.
“I know.” He said stuffily. Arthur sighed but continued.
“And in spite of his annoying nature Arthur loved Merlin very much.” He went on in a softer voice, stroking the dark, sweat soaked hair back from Merlin’s damp skin. Merlin smiled, turning his head until his nose brushed against Arthur’s palm.
“I know.” He said again, sleepily this time, as his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of Arthur’s wrist. Arthur sat for a moment, staring sappily down at the adorably sleepy expression on Merlin’s face. Then the blue eyes snapped open, ruining the peaceful visage.
“What happened?” He asked.
“What?” Arthur started out of his stupor and blinked down at Merlin.
“To the prince and his…manservant…?” He asked, pausing suggestively. Arthur rolled his eyes, smiling fondly.
Day Twelve
Merlin stared at the tree, that was now taking up a significant amount of the available space in the living room of his flat.
“What is it?” He asked Gwen, who was hidden by the trees bulk, examining the cage and the patently miserable bird that hung on the other side.
“I think it’s a partridge.” She said. He frowned.
“What? Why?” She came back into view, cage in hand, and set it down on the coffee table, piled high with paper covered in closely spaced writing and used coffee mugs.
“The old song.” She told him, crouching down to peer into the cage, poking her fingers through the bars in an effort to attract the bird’s attention.
“What old song?” Merlin asked, frowning in confusion.
“The twelve days of Christmas.” She told him. “You know, on the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree.” Merlin frowned, critically examining the tree.
“Is it a pear tree?” He asked. She shrugged.
“I suppose so.” His frown deepened.
“Then where are all the pears? I like pears.” Gwen turned to look at him, her expression suggesting she was torn between exasperation and fond adoration.
“Pears don’t grow in winter.” She told him. He sighed.
“Oh.” He sank down into a chair. “What happens in the rest of the song?” He asked. She twisted, sitting down on the floor.
“The true love gives a different gift each of the twelve days of Christmas.” He groaned.
“What are they?” He asked. She started humming.
“There are five gold rings.” She said thoughtfully. “On the fifth day. And there are lords a leaping and maids a milking at some point.” He groaned more loudly.
“Why is he doing this to me?” He asked, throwing his arm out. There was a sound suspiciously like Gwen laughing.
“I think he’s trying to prove a point.” She said at last, apparently having gotten her mirth under control. Merlin sat up with a sigh.
“He doesn’t need to prove anything.” He said grumpily. Gwen smiled.
“I think it’s sweet.” She told him. “And you know Arthur, any excuse to throw money at you.” Merlin sighed heavily, getting up from his chair and wandering towards the door.
“I hate Christmas.” He said, tone defeated. Gwen bounced to his side, linking her arm through his.
“Just enjoy it.” She advised him. “It only happens once a year.”
Day Thirteen
Merlin sat back from the table, hands crossed over his stomach as he grinned at his mother.
“I really can’t eat any more.” He promised her. She smiled at him with one eyebrow cocked in a dangerous fashion.
“Are you sure?” She asked. He nodded definitely.
“No more.” He told her, watching fondly as what looked like everyone he’d ever known in his childhood tucked in around the assembly of tables in the kitchen. “But that’s alright, I’m sure they can manage without me.”
Arthur sat at the table, staring at his own reflection in the highly polished wooden surface. He looked up as Morgana kicked him to find her making faces. After glancing at his father, absorbed in the thin slices of meat arranged delicately on his plate, he pulled one back.
“Arthur, don’t make faces.” Uther’s voice was low but brooked no argument. Glaring at his sister, looking smug, Arthur looked back down at the table.
Day Fourteen
Arthur turned the engine of the car off and just sat in the warm interior, staring out at the snowy day. Even with the headlights on visibility was low. For a moment he considered that maybe just being here was enough. Perhaps his presence could be sensed from the car. Then he shook off the weakness and opened the door.
The wind was icy as he pushed through what literally felt like a wall of snow. His gloved hand was closed tightly around the tiny flower Merlin had grown for him in the greenhouse just so that it would blossom at this time of year. It was truly magic, what Merlin could do with plants.
The first hint he had that he might have reached the graveyard was when he stubbed his toe on the first gravestone. He knelt down, peering through the snow at the name. Pellinore. He was here.
He dropped the flower, letting the crushed petals and bruised stem blow away, and sank down to sit in the cold snow. He looked to his left, where he knew the list of familiar names would continue, and then to the right, where the names of unknown soldiers trailed away into the darkness. Then he bowed his head in silent vigil.
Day Fifteen
A lot of time has passed, Merlin remembers, as he cautiously raises his goblet to the proud and haughty creature that was once Morgana. She raises her goblet in return and he thinks he sees something like regret in her eyes. But he remembers.
Morgana standing over Arthur was a sword held tight in her hands. Ready to bring it down on the Prince’s unprotected throat as he stared blankly up at her.
Morgana’s features twisted as she hurled spell after spell at Gwen, who crawled rapidly away from her, gaining her feet only to topple back down, blood streaming from a wound on her leg.
Morgana chanting over a cauldron as he gradually worked his way through her layers and layers of spells, fighting to find the balance between haste and speed as he fought to get to her in time.
But he also remembers other things.
Morgana laughing merrily as she sits in Gaius’ rooms, her fingers curled delicately around a cup of tea.
Morgana tossing and turning in the grip of a dream, face beading with sweat as he watched her, desperately wishing there was something he could do to help. Unsure whether waking her would be wise or even safe.
Morgana pale and limp in his arms, her eyes dull as she looked at him, words stumbling over her delicately coloured lips.
So he raised his glass higher, letting a slight smile touch his mouth.
“To the season.” He says, his voice echoing oddly in the cave. “And the moment of respite it has brought us.”
Day Sixteen
Merlin stared around the interior of the little blue box in awe. There seemed to be movement everywhere. The lights kept changing colour and occasionally something would emit a burst of noise or a little puff of steam. He blinked and could have sworn that everything in the entire space had changed in the time it took.
“It’s…amazing.” He breathed.
“Well yes.” The man beside him, the young man with the old eyes, cocked his head to the side and studied the interior of the box anew. “It is rather wonderful isn’t it?” Merlin sighed again and shook his head, almost at a loss for words.
“It’s…it’s…” He searched. “It’s more than that.” He said at length. “It’s magic.” The man, who had introduced himself only as ‘the Doctor’ swung past his, taking a small set of steps Merlin hadn’t noticed in giant bounds.
“Yes.” He said, then he held a finger to his lips. “Keep the magic secret.”
Day Seventeen
Merlin pressed his forehead to the glass, staring out at the world beyond. His feet, warmly wrapped in hand knitted socks that had arrived in the post that morning, were curled under him as his breath and the warmth of his body regularly fogged up then melted away from the view of outside. He felt strangely at peace, almost melancholy. Wrapped in his own cocoon of silence. In the other room he could hear Gwen and Morgana giggling but it seemed very far away, even muffled only by the thin walls.
It got briefly louder as the door opened, then softer again as it slid shut. Merlin didn’t turn around.
“I love snow.” He said softly. He could hear Arthur moving across the messy, dimly lit room and he felt the added warmth of Arthur’s calloused palm settle across the back of his neck.
“Do you?” He asked, voice shattering the peace of the room. “I hate it. Can’t go outside, can’t go anywhere without ending up all wet when you come inside again. It’s awful!” Merlin turned, exasperated. His frown lit on Arthur, standing and staring out the window, a steaming mug in one hand. Instead of shouting he just smiled, watching the expressions flicker over Arthur’s face as he thought with a distinct feeling of fondness. Finally the young man noticed.
“What’s that sappy expression for?” He asked. Merlin shrugged, still smiling to himself as he turned back to the window.
“Nothing.” He said cheerfully. “Now go and drink your hot chocolate somewhere else and leave me with the snow.” Grumbling, Arthur obeyed.
Day Eighteen
Uther sneezed the first instant he set foot in the apartment. It was an amazing, trumpet of a sneeze. It brought Merlin rushing out of the kitchen, looking even more ridiculous than usual n his gangle legged stride with the oven mitts Gwen had bought him for Christmas on his hands. They were silicone with little faces moulded into them. He had christened them the guppies.
The stare, which usually led to either a pale and furious Merlin or a flaming row was somewhat diluted by the watery eyes. Uther glared.
“Is there a cat in here?” He demanded in what might have been an imperious tone were it not for the huge sniff he was forced to take in the middle.
“Why yes.” Arthur told his father, relaxing in one of the comfortable, if slightly ragged, armchairs with the offending creature in his lap. “I gave him to Merlin for Christmas.” Uther glared at him with impotent fury, but whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by another giant sneeze. Still glaring, he retreated outside.
Merlin, looking rather comical with the guppies, one dark blue and one bright pink, pressed over his mouth, stared at Arthur with wide eyes as the blonde laughed. After a moment he joined in. When they’d both finally recovered Merlin finally spoke.
“Did you know he was allergic to cats?” He asked. Arthur nodded, still grinning hugely. Through the thick windows of the apartment they could hear the roar of Uther’s car as he sped away. Merlin grinned.
“You’re brilliant.”
Day Nineteen
Merlin gritted his teeth as the last notes died away.
“Remind me why you bought him that again?” He asked Gwen through gritted teeth. She shrugged, grinning at him.
“You’ll thank me one day.” She promised, as Arthur resumed whatever he was doing to the guitar in his room, definitely nothing good, which was causing the decorations on the tree to shake and the paper strewn around its base to tremble.
“Yes.” Merlin replied. “But I hate you now.” Gwen’s smile didn’t falter though she did wince as a particularly loud whine from the bedroom. Merlin’s vindictive joy was quickly replaced by irritation as she set her half finished tea aside and gathered her coat.
“I’ll just be off home then.” She said. “Morgana should have slept off the last of the eggnog by now.” Merlin scowled as he accompanied her to the door. She turned at the threshold, posing theatrically.
“That’s the other reason we bought it you know.” She told him cheerfully. “We don’t have to live with him.” Merlin’s snappy retort died on his tongue as the door swung shut. He scowled at it for a moment then threw up his hands as Arthur resumed his noise-making.
“Gwen!” He yelled, flinging the door open and plunging after her. “Wait for me!”
Day Twenty
Merlin dropped to sit on the floor beside Gwen, wrapping paper, ribbons and sticky tape spilling from his arms, the latter rolling away under the bed. He scowled and dropped the items he had managed to hold onto haphazardly into her lap and rolled over, peering into the dark and dusty resources. There was some uncomfortable wiggling as he tried to negotiate the narrow gap between the two beds while his arm stretched as far as it could but he finally pulled it out. Gwen smiled, taking it from his fingers.
“Well done.” She congratulated. “Now which ones do you want to wrap?” Merlin beamed.
“The square ones.” He told her. She scowled but duly handed him the pile of books and boxes before turning to examine her own, much smaller but more oddly shaped pile.
“I don’t think that’s quite fair.” She told him, before setting to work.