Merlin ficlet for Babydracky~
Title: The Holly King
Author: analineblue
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Characters: Merlin, Gwen, Arthur
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~650
Summary: Merlin and Gwen are busy with the throne room's Yule decorations, and it's all Arthur's fault.
Notes: Written for babydracky's Advent Calendar. Her prompt was "Christmas Decoration", with this photo:
I tried my best not to be completely anachronistic with the holidays here, but, well... I hope this is okay! (Also, Arthur slipped in there somehow, lol. ^_~) Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! ^_^ (Oh, and in the course of searching for a title, I stumbled across this story about the Holly King and the Oak King, which I'd never heard of before, but... It's pretty interesting!)
“I’m convinced that Arthur came up with this idea just to punish me,” Merlin grumbles, wobbling on the chair he’s been balanced rather precariously on for the past hour or so, as he attempts to put the finishing touches on the throne room’s Yule decorations.
Gwen frowns at him, holding up a sprig of holly, which Merlin takes from her hand carefully, so as not to prick his finger on the thorns. Again.
“I think he’s just trying to brighten the mood a bit,” Gwen offers, steadying the chair with the palm of her hand. “You know, a little festive cheer?”
“But really,” Merlin continues, shaking his head, and staring down at Gwen. “The entire castle? I’m telling you,” he says, and then, dropping his voice conspiratorially, he continues, “this is because of the other day.”
Gwen just watches him curiously. “The other day?”
“Yeah,” Merlin says, hopping off of the chair, suddenly animated. She gathers up an armful of ivy, tucking the long strands of green into a large woven basket, and tilts her head at Merlin. She can hear the wind picking up outside. There’s supposed to be a storm coming through later - she’d hoped to finish all this up before it really picked up, but at this rate they won’t make it.
Merlin is shaking his head, oblivious to the oncoming storm, a familiar sparkle in his eye.
“I told him before he left for that last hunting trip that the kitchen staff had been on my case all week about the state of the fowl he brings back. They promised me they’d refuse to cook it next time if I brought it in all covered in mud like I did the last three times, and sure enough, he plops those mud-laden pheasants into my lap and then has the nerve to yell at me, when the kitchen tells me they’re not fit for anything other than pig feed. I mean really.” Merlin shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “I warned him.”
Gwen just nods, knowing better than to argue. “And you think this,” she gestures to the state of the throne room; every spare corner is adorned with holly, ivy, and deep red and gold sashes of fabric, stretching from floor to ceiling. Pine cones dipped in gold leaf and bright sparking baubles hang from the rafters, surrounded by greenery. “You think he asked you to do this--”
Merlin nods quickly. “Yes. Definitely. This has to be punishment. I’ve been at this for three days already, and I’m not even halfway done.” He hangs his head a bit mournfully. “I’ll be lucky if I finish by Twelfth Night at this rate.”
Gwen pats his arm encouragingly. Then her eyes light up as something occurs to her. “Maybe I could talk to him for you?”
“Talk to me about what?” Arthur beams at both of them from around the corner, his eyes wide with curiosity; though they’re both fairly certain that he knows exactly what they’ve been talking about.
Merlin exchanges glances with Gwen, who gives him a sympathetic smile.
“Well,” Arthur announces. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to chat later, Merlin,” he says, clapping a hand to Merlin’s back, which almost sends him toppling forward into a pile of holly. “After you’ve finished here.”
His gesture encompasses the entire room, but Merlin suspects it might extend to the entire castle, perhaps the whole of Camelot. He sighs.
“Oh,” Arthur says, a decidedly sardonic look in his eyes. “One more thing. I told Gwaine and the rest of the knights you’d be more than happy to assist them in decorating their quarters as well, so… I’d hop to it, if I were you.”
“I’ll help you later,” Gwen mouths silently, as she hands over the basket of trimmings with an apologetic smile.
Merlin simply nods his agreement, grateful, and gets back to work. Again.
***
Author: analineblue
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Characters: Merlin, Gwen, Arthur
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~650
Summary: Merlin and Gwen are busy with the throne room's Yule decorations, and it's all Arthur's fault.
Notes: Written for babydracky's Advent Calendar. Her prompt was "Christmas Decoration", with this photo:
I tried my best not to be completely anachronistic with the holidays here, but, well... I hope this is okay! (Also, Arthur slipped in there somehow, lol. ^_~) Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! ^_^ (Oh, and in the course of searching for a title, I stumbled across this story about the Holly King and the Oak King, which I'd never heard of before, but... It's pretty interesting!)
“I’m convinced that Arthur came up with this idea just to punish me,” Merlin grumbles, wobbling on the chair he’s been balanced rather precariously on for the past hour or so, as he attempts to put the finishing touches on the throne room’s Yule decorations.
Gwen frowns at him, holding up a sprig of holly, which Merlin takes from her hand carefully, so as not to prick his finger on the thorns. Again.
“I think he’s just trying to brighten the mood a bit,” Gwen offers, steadying the chair with the palm of her hand. “You know, a little festive cheer?”
“But really,” Merlin continues, shaking his head, and staring down at Gwen. “The entire castle? I’m telling you,” he says, and then, dropping his voice conspiratorially, he continues, “this is because of the other day.”
Gwen just watches him curiously. “The other day?”
“Yeah,” Merlin says, hopping off of the chair, suddenly animated. She gathers up an armful of ivy, tucking the long strands of green into a large woven basket, and tilts her head at Merlin. She can hear the wind picking up outside. There’s supposed to be a storm coming through later - she’d hoped to finish all this up before it really picked up, but at this rate they won’t make it.
Merlin is shaking his head, oblivious to the oncoming storm, a familiar sparkle in his eye.
“I told him before he left for that last hunting trip that the kitchen staff had been on my case all week about the state of the fowl he brings back. They promised me they’d refuse to cook it next time if I brought it in all covered in mud like I did the last three times, and sure enough, he plops those mud-laden pheasants into my lap and then has the nerve to yell at me, when the kitchen tells me they’re not fit for anything other than pig feed. I mean really.” Merlin shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “I warned him.”
Gwen just nods, knowing better than to argue. “And you think this,” she gestures to the state of the throne room; every spare corner is adorned with holly, ivy, and deep red and gold sashes of fabric, stretching from floor to ceiling. Pine cones dipped in gold leaf and bright sparking baubles hang from the rafters, surrounded by greenery. “You think he asked you to do this--”
Merlin nods quickly. “Yes. Definitely. This has to be punishment. I’ve been at this for three days already, and I’m not even halfway done.” He hangs his head a bit mournfully. “I’ll be lucky if I finish by Twelfth Night at this rate.”
Gwen pats his arm encouragingly. Then her eyes light up as something occurs to her. “Maybe I could talk to him for you?”
“Talk to me about what?” Arthur beams at both of them from around the corner, his eyes wide with curiosity; though they’re both fairly certain that he knows exactly what they’ve been talking about.
Merlin exchanges glances with Gwen, who gives him a sympathetic smile.
“Well,” Arthur announces. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to chat later, Merlin,” he says, clapping a hand to Merlin’s back, which almost sends him toppling forward into a pile of holly. “After you’ve finished here.”
His gesture encompasses the entire room, but Merlin suspects it might extend to the entire castle, perhaps the whole of Camelot. He sighs.
“Oh,” Arthur says, a decidedly sardonic look in his eyes. “One more thing. I told Gwaine and the rest of the knights you’d be more than happy to assist them in decorating their quarters as well, so… I’d hop to it, if I were you.”
“I’ll help you later,” Gwen mouths silently, as she hands over the basket of trimmings with an apologetic smile.
Merlin simply nods his agreement, grateful, and gets back to work. Again.
***