Merlin: Jack Frost's Magical Patterns
Finally stopped messing about and actually wrote something for my own damn advent. I think this is possibly only the second fic I've written all year...
Title: Jack Frost’s Magical Patterns
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Minor for S3 for a throwaway comment about dragons
Warnings: Bodily fluids and 12-year-old boy humour
Disclaimers: Not mine, never mine
Summary: The knights of Camelot are not available to break the ice today. They’re a bit…embarrassed.
AN: Written for Day 2 Breaking the Ice on merlinadvent . And, yes, this really does happen when it gets cold. 700 words. Beta’d by the delightful nyargles and nenimefish
“Merlin! Merlin!”
Merlin snuggled further into his blankets. It was cold.
“Merlin!”
Merlin cautiously cracked open an eye as Gaius’ voice refused to go away and found the man himself standing over him with a pickaxe and a raised eyebrow.
That certainly woke him up.
“Gaius?” Merlin asked, trying hard not to tempt fate by wondering what could’ve happened to Gaius during the night to turn him into an axe-wielding maniac.
“Yes, Merlin?”
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Oh, honestly, Merlin. Get up,” Gaius ordered, dropping the implement on his bed.
Merlin rolled out of bed onto the floor, clutching his toe and cursing under his breath.
“Are you trying to kill me?” he demanded of Gaius. “I wake up and you’ve got an axe, what else am I supposed to think?”
Gaius remained standing up, looking unimpressed. No-one ever looked impressed when he yelled at them apart from Kilgharrah.
“You’re supposed to think that you’re running late and have duties to attend to,” Gaius told him.
“Duties that need an axe?” Merlin muttered, pulling on his boots and a jumper his mum had knitted last Solstice. “Where did you even get that from?”
“The well has frozen over, Merlin, and you need to go break the ice on it before it causes problems.”
“But that’s the knights’ job! They do it every year,” Merlin protested even as Gaius tugged him out the door, pickaxe trailing behind him pathetically. “Arthur explained it was practically a tradition.”
“Tradition or not it’s you who has to go get the well sorted before the kitchens and laundry get to work.”
“Before they start.”
“Yes, Merlin.”
“It’s still dark, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin,” Gaius proclaimed. “Dawn was 10 minutes ago.”
Merlin stopped at the door to glare back at Gaius.
“This isn’t fair.”
“Life rarely is.”
There was a small crowd of servants in the courtyard when Merlin finally arrived. No knights to speak of, and even the guards appeared to be conspicuously missing. He sidled up to the stable boy that dealt with Sir Leon’s horses - Thomas, always ready to lend a hand when Arthur ordered him to clean out the entire castle stables - and tried to figure out what everyone was staring at by the well.
“What’s going on?” Merlin asked.
“Huh? Oh, it’s you,” Thomas glanced over at him. “You took your time.”
“Shut up,” Merlin grinned at him. “Shouldn’t the knights be doing this? It’s not my tradition.”
“Yeah,” Thomas drawled. “I don’t think they’ll be doing much of anything today.”
“What? Why not?”
“Turns out guard duty last night was a bit slow and they decided to have a little competition once the mulled wine set in.”
“Competition?” Merlin asked, confused and wondering if he could put the pickaxe down somewhere. It was a bit heavy for prolonged conversation.
“Haven’t you ever played that game,” Thomas winked at him. “The end of a night in your cups and you see who can piss the highest? Or who can write their name?”
“Everyone’s done that,” Merlin scowled at him. “What’s this got to do with anything.”
“Like you said, everyone’s done it.” He grinned widely at Merlin.
How do you know?” Merlin asked him.
“Everything froze last night.”
“I know, otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here with an axe.”
“No,” Thomas told him slowly as if he were an idiot, “Everything. Froze.”
“…No,” Merlin couldn’t help but snigger even as he protested. Thomas nodded, grinning, and pushed him forwards to have a look.
There, decorating the courtyard was a variety of patterns, preserved in streaks of ice littering the ground.
‘Leon’ was the only full word discernable, although Sir Oswald has clearly made a decent attempt at his name. There were lines of ice all starting from the same point with one stretching significantly further than the other 2, and one strange spiral shape off to the side that looked rather artistic.
Until you remembered just what the ice was formed from.
The snorts of laughter from the servants were contagious, and soon the entire courtyard was awash with people giggling hysterically at the best work of the ‘Pride of Camelot’.
Merlin laughed so hard he dropped his pickaxe. On his toe. Again.
Title: Jack Frost’s Magical Patterns
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Minor for S3 for a throwaway comment about dragons
Warnings: Bodily fluids and 12-year-old boy humour
Disclaimers: Not mine, never mine
Summary: The knights of Camelot are not available to break the ice today. They’re a bit…embarrassed.
AN: Written for Day 2 Breaking the Ice on merlinadvent . And, yes, this really does happen when it gets cold. 700 words. Beta’d by the delightful nyargles and nenimefish
“Merlin! Merlin!”
Merlin snuggled further into his blankets. It was cold.
“Merlin!”
Merlin cautiously cracked open an eye as Gaius’ voice refused to go away and found the man himself standing over him with a pickaxe and a raised eyebrow.
That certainly woke him up.
“Gaius?” Merlin asked, trying hard not to tempt fate by wondering what could’ve happened to Gaius during the night to turn him into an axe-wielding maniac.
“Yes, Merlin?”
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Oh, honestly, Merlin. Get up,” Gaius ordered, dropping the implement on his bed.
Merlin rolled out of bed onto the floor, clutching his toe and cursing under his breath.
“Are you trying to kill me?” he demanded of Gaius. “I wake up and you’ve got an axe, what else am I supposed to think?”
Gaius remained standing up, looking unimpressed. No-one ever looked impressed when he yelled at them apart from Kilgharrah.
“You’re supposed to think that you’re running late and have duties to attend to,” Gaius told him.
“Duties that need an axe?” Merlin muttered, pulling on his boots and a jumper his mum had knitted last Solstice. “Where did you even get that from?”
“The well has frozen over, Merlin, and you need to go break the ice on it before it causes problems.”
“But that’s the knights’ job! They do it every year,” Merlin protested even as Gaius tugged him out the door, pickaxe trailing behind him pathetically. “Arthur explained it was practically a tradition.”
“Tradition or not it’s you who has to go get the well sorted before the kitchens and laundry get to work.”
“Before they start.”
“Yes, Merlin.”
“It’s still dark, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin,” Gaius proclaimed. “Dawn was 10 minutes ago.”
Merlin stopped at the door to glare back at Gaius.
“This isn’t fair.”
“Life rarely is.”
There was a small crowd of servants in the courtyard when Merlin finally arrived. No knights to speak of, and even the guards appeared to be conspicuously missing. He sidled up to the stable boy that dealt with Sir Leon’s horses - Thomas, always ready to lend a hand when Arthur ordered him to clean out the entire castle stables - and tried to figure out what everyone was staring at by the well.
“What’s going on?” Merlin asked.
“Huh? Oh, it’s you,” Thomas glanced over at him. “You took your time.”
“Shut up,” Merlin grinned at him. “Shouldn’t the knights be doing this? It’s not my tradition.”
“Yeah,” Thomas drawled. “I don’t think they’ll be doing much of anything today.”
“What? Why not?”
“Turns out guard duty last night was a bit slow and they decided to have a little competition once the mulled wine set in.”
“Competition?” Merlin asked, confused and wondering if he could put the pickaxe down somewhere. It was a bit heavy for prolonged conversation.
“Haven’t you ever played that game,” Thomas winked at him. “The end of a night in your cups and you see who can piss the highest? Or who can write their name?”
“Everyone’s done that,” Merlin scowled at him. “What’s this got to do with anything.”
“Like you said, everyone’s done it.” He grinned widely at Merlin.
How do you know?” Merlin asked him.
“Everything froze last night.”
“I know, otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here with an axe.”
“No,” Thomas told him slowly as if he were an idiot, “Everything. Froze.”
“…No,” Merlin couldn’t help but snigger even as he protested. Thomas nodded, grinning, and pushed him forwards to have a look.
There, decorating the courtyard was a variety of patterns, preserved in streaks of ice littering the ground.
‘Leon’ was the only full word discernable, although Sir Oswald has clearly made a decent attempt at his name. There were lines of ice all starting from the same point with one stretching significantly further than the other 2, and one strange spiral shape off to the side that looked rather artistic.
Until you remembered just what the ice was formed from.
The snorts of laughter from the servants were contagious, and soon the entire courtyard was awash with people giggling hysterically at the best work of the ‘Pride of Camelot’.
Merlin laughed so hard he dropped his pickaxe. On his toe. Again.