Chapter Text
In past years, winters have been tame in Camelot. I have watched autumns smoothly turn into the harshest of seasons to just as easily slip into spring, fields blossoming again and the thick blanket of clouds ripping open to reveal spots of blue sky. It is colder this year, windy gusts cutting like knives from the north-east, snow covering the lands overnight, as people from the outskirts move to Camelot to seek shelter, dozens of them from villages and small towns.
There has not been a winter like this one in the northern parts of our world in over half a century, and the castle is buzzing with unrest and trepidation. There are maybe two more months of ice to survive, and warmth is getting scarce, especially within the thick castle walls.
- Account of Geoffrey Of Monmouth, in the Year 23 of the Rule of King Uther Pendragon of Camelot
~*~
Merlin thought it could not get much colder, but during the night, the temperature had crashed another five degrees into the minuses and not gone up again . In response, he buried deeper into his blankets and tried not to shiver, refusing to get up as Gaius called his name for the third time.
Fires only helped so much. There was one burning in Gaius' chambers, outside his room, but Merlin knew all too well that to get some warmth from it, he would have to stay in a two-feet distance, and he had no inclination to leave the burrow he'd formed out of covers, pillows and his own body heat for that. His breath, when he lifted his head a little to glance outside the blankets, turned into silver mist before his eyes, and he quickly pulled the covers back over himself.
It had been cold sometimes in Ealdor, and he'd often woken up half-frozen. Back then, he'd climbed into bed with his mother to warm up as she kissed his forehead and told him what they would have to get done during the day. Sometimes, he'd gone to sleep with Will, their bodies entwined and waking up the same way, warm, held tight, breath tickling his neck.
He closed his eyes and smiled, because those were the nice memories. Will was gone, leaving an empty, silent spot in Merlin's heart that would always be there, but the truth was it had also been months; he was starting to heal.
The door to his room slammed open, mercilessly interrupting his reminiscences of warm embraces. It was Gaius, shoes visible on the bedside floor, and when Merlin glanced upwards, he saw that his shoulders were hunched as always. He was pointing his finger at the wrong spot in the bed, which made Merlin's grin widen'.
"You are going to get out of bed this instant," he told Merlin. "Breakfast is ready, and it is getting cold."
"It's a wonder it isn't frozen to ice," Merlin replied, unimpressed.
"Out, out, out!" Gaius shooed and pulled off the first blanket, grabbing for the pillow.
"No!" Merlin protested, trying to snatch them back. His hands weren't quick enough, so he let the magic course, floating the blanket back on top of himself. But the warmth was gone, and he shivered against the cold touch of the cloth.
"If you'd gotten out of bed like I told you, there would have been no need for foul play," Gaius scolded.
Merlin wasn't convinced. Gaius was, after all, wearing himself a cloak of thick quilt, and his fingers had to be icy to be the colour they were.
"It's cold," Merlin whined and rubbed his arms, a shiver running down his spine.
"I know." Gaius sighed. He patted Merlin's shoulder in gentle apology and encouragement. "No luck with the spells?"
Merlin shook his head. "Some of them work, but only for a few seconds, then the warmth vanishes again. Nothing wants to stick."
"Well, keep working on it." Gaius gave him a half-smile. "After you serve his lordship the crown prince. I have heard he is especially cranky today."
Merlin groaned.
~*~
Arthur wasn't even out of bed yet when Merlin entered his chambers, breathing warmth against his palms. The top of his blond head was just visible, as were the tips of his toes, as his cover wasn't long enough to cover the length of his body.
"Arthur?"
There was a grumble from the bed, but otherwise nothing. Merlin stepped up to it and found a glare directed at him.
"It is way past sunlight," Merlin said, trying to sound imperative (and failing). "Your knights are waiting for you outside for their daily beating."
Arthur's glare intensified.
"I had to get up from my warm covers as well, my lord!" Merlin pointed out, hands on his hips. "And you, unlike me, are expected!"
"Stop saying 'my lord' as if you were saying 'prat'!"
"Stop acting like one and I just might."
A second later, Merlin found himself in the bed, with Arthur pinning him face-down, arm behind his back.
"Abuse!" Merlin cried, gasping when Arthur pulled his arm harder, but couldn't help the bout of giggles that bubbled up, Arthur's hair tickling his cheek.
"Shut up about abuse," Arthur said, but he did let him go when he realized Merlin wasn't joking about the pain. He drew back. Merlin sat up, scrambled off the bed hastily, and then Arthur said, almost like he was surprised, "You're warm."
"I'm not," Merlin protested, sticking out his hand. "Feel. I'm all cold."
"No, I mean..." Arthur looked thoughtful. "Never mind. Now that we're both up, the day might as well start. Go fetch my clothes and my armour. And have you polished my boots?"
Merlin hurried off feeling even colder than before and thinking that it wasn't him who was warm but Arthur, judging from the heat of his body.
~*~
"It has to be magic," Uther's voice boomed from the throne room. Merlin, who'd been passing through the hallway to get to the western part of the castle, stopped at the damning word and winced, hoping this wouldn't escalate into a witch-hunt of epic proportions.
Then the door flew open with more force than necessary and Arthur stormed out, looking irritated and exhausted, still in his training gear. Two knights flanked him left and right, exchanging worried glances.
Merlin didn't expect Arthur to stop by him, but he did, annoyance crossing his face. "Merlin," he said. "Where are you off to?"
Merlin held up a little woollen sack and two flasks. "Gaius needs me to distribute some medicine in the castle and to bring him more herbs. There have been complaints about sickness spreading."
Arthur nodded. "All right, do that first. Afterwards you're going to go pay Geoffrey a visit in the archives. Ask him about this winter plague, maybe he knows something."
"Because it's magic?"
Arthur narrowed his eyes.
"It's not like everyone in the castle didn't hear it," Merlin replied defensively.
Arthur gave him another warning look. "I'll be out all day, but report to me in the evening."
"Will do."
"Also, Merlin?"
Merlin turned back around.
"Make sure the fire's burning as hot as possible when I return, and that my bed is warm for the night. And heat up the bath water. I have a feeling I'm going to need it."
~*~
"It isn't, though, is it?" he asked Gaius later, watching the old man bustle about his chambers, adding strange-smelling herbs into boiling water, drop of lilac and black liquid on top, bubbles rising out of the cauldron.
"Is what, Merlin?" Gaius asked impatiently, looking up. "Fetch me the astragalus. No, the - to your right."
"Oh. Sorry." Merlin smiled, sheepish. "Should pay more attention to that, huh?"
"Yes, you should," Gaius replied, but as always couldn't quite hide the answering smile.
"I just - Uther's been going on about how the snow and the cold weather is a magical attack by some evil sorcerer, but if there are no charms to turn everything warm, it couldn't possibly be magic, right? And anyway, who would do such a thing? People are suffering. Everyone is, not just Uther or Arthur."
"I think..." Gaius' potion bubbled up dangerously for the second time, and he quickly took it off the fire. "I think sometimes, it gets cold in winter."
Merlin breathed out. "So you don't know any legends or anything magical -"
"Not that I remember, no." Gaius frowned, squinting down into his liquid. "This stinks."
Merlin sniffed the air. "It rather does. Should it do that?"
Gaius shrugged. "We'll see."
~*~
"The archives, Sire," Merlin reminded Arthur that evening when Arthur asked, voice cool as the weather, what nonsense Merlin had spent all day doing. He'd just returned from his ride. Merlin didn't quite dare to inquire where he'd been, because Arthur looked absolutely furious and his nose was red going on lilac.
"So what did you find out?" Arthur asked impatiently. He tried taking off his boots, groaning from pain when they wouldn't budge. "Aren't you supposed to help me with this, Merlin?"
Merlin kneeled down by his feet and started pulling on the first, then on the second one. When he heard the crisp of ice, he couldn't help but imagine the leather, half-merged with skin and flesh, and shuddered. "Sorry. You should put your feet in tepid water, because if you put them in the hot bath first, this'll -"
"Rubbish," Arthur bit out, clenching his teeth. The second boot came off. His toes were blue-ish and looked frozen. He hopped over to the basin Merlin had prepared earlier and sat on the chair, dipping both feet in at the same time. And hissed through his teeth, face a grimace of pain.
"- hurt," Merlin finished, sighing.
"Anything about the sudden snowfall and the sub-zero temperatures?" His eyes were still squeezed shut, but he held his feet underwater with iron will. Merlin had to be a little impressed by Arthur's sheer stubborn stupidity.
"Nothing," he said. "Nothing that would indicate any kind of magic has been used. There have been multiple such winters before, sudden snowfalls, drops of temperatures to minus thirty degrees even, minus forty once. The history books indicate it's fairly normal every few dozen years or so."
"Is that so?"
"You can ask Sir Geoffrey himself, if you don't believe me -"
"What about my bed?" Arthur finally looked up.
Merlin blinked. "What?"
"Well, is it warm to sleep in? I have intention of climbing into it while it's cold as the night outside. I might as well sleep in the forest!"
"I didn't -"
"You're really worthless." Arthur sighed. "Next time, if I ask you to heat my bed, you run to the kitchen and let one of the boys or girls there heat up a stone, wrap it in covers and put it in my bed before I return. Now, get in."
"What?"
"Get in the bed, Merlin." Arthur rolled his eyes. "Since there's no stone, you'll do. Let's hope you'll have it warm by the time I'm washed."
Merlin gaped for a second, but realized Arthur was serious about this, and in a way, of course, it made sense. Arthur also was no longer looking at Merlin. He was undressing, shivering as the cold hit his chest. Merlin looked away and slowly approached the bed.
"And take off your boots," Arthur reminded him, making him jump.
For once, Merlin complied without discussion; he put them neatly next to Arthur's. Then he glanced over his shoulder - wished he hadn't, Arthur's naked, muscled buttocks flashing before his eyes as he climbed into the basin - and realized that Arthur was still serious about this.
"Merlin," Arthur said, using the sharp tone of voice he reserved to show people he was the prince and his words were command. "The bed will not bite. And I'm almost done. It won't warm up all by itself. I have behind me a futile five-mile ride hunting imaginary sorcerers, and a probable second ride like that tomorrow in the early grey of morning. Do you want to spend the night in the stables?"
"No, Sire," Merlin quickly reassured him, biting back a sharper reply. He closed his eyes and climbed into the bed. He was gratified to realize that the earth kept moving and no abysm opened up beneath him to swallow him whole. He also realized that lying in the prince's fine linen, with his pillows soft against his cheek, on a bouncy and comfortable mattress, was cosy and might have an addictive effect.
Small splashes came from the side of the room where Arthur washed. Wind was whistling through the cracks and chinks in the windows. The light from the candles and the fire crackling made him close his eyes, just for a second. One turned into two, into three, and he thought, he could doze for a little while. Surely, no one would mind.
~*~
A few hours later, Merlin startled awake with a gasp. His head felt drowsy, and he winced when something hit the side of his shoulder. His right arm was numb and icy to the touch. Everything was pitch-dark around him.
"Meerlinnn," someone beside him groaned, hoarse and sleepy. "You're supposed to keep me warm, not awake." The voice turned muffled as his head moved to the side. "Idiot."
Merlin felt his face heat up. He was lying beside Arthur, fully clothed, thank the gods, and he had no idea how he'd managed to fall asleep without noticing, or why Arthur hadn't woken him up and - oh. Right. To keep him warm. The bastard. Merlin stared at him, trying hard not to feel violated.
"I can hear you think," Arthur's muffled voice resounded, and Merlin could almost hear his eyes roll in disdain. "Shut up and go back to sleep."
"But -"
"That's an order." Arthur lifted his chin off his pillow, turning his head. His eyes were shut, but he still managed a glare. "Or it'll be the stocks all day tomorrow."
Merlin complied at once, puffing out his held breath.
~*~
The next morning, Gaius received him with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised as Merlin shot past, trying hard not to let anything at all show on his face. Of course, he was a crap liar for a reason, and Gaius knew him far too well.
Sadly, it was not Gaius who caught him out. It was Gwen, sitting on the edge of the bed in his room, mouth open when he stormed in, his hair tousled, clothes rumpled from the night.
"Merlin!" she blinked, scandalized. "Where have you been all night?"
Merlin flushed and pointed his finger at her. "Like you have room to talk, Miss I-only-stay-the-night-in-Morgana's-bed-sometimes!"
Gwen's mouth fell open. "That is not - I have not - you've spent the night with Arthur?"
"Way to change the topic." Merlin narrowed his eyes.
For a moment, there was silence, then Gwen smirked. "So, was he any good at least?"
~*~
"I will not," Merlin stated, voice hard. "I am putting my foot down." He scowled at Arthur. "This is me, putting my foot down."
Arthur grinned. "Don't be an idiot, Merlin."
~*~
"Don't be an idiot, Merlin, he says," Merlin raved, helping Gwen carry some more non-frozen water to her home to prepare her bath. It froze too quickly otherwise, she'd said, and requested him urgently. "And then he threatens me with the stocks - do you know how much it hurts getting frozen potatoes thrown at your head?"
"You shouldn't give in to him if you don't want to," Gwen said and opened the door for him. "He can't make you, right?"
Merlin glared. "Of course he can make me. He's the crown prince of Camelot and he knows it. He can make me do anything if he wants to, or chop off my head. Since I'm just a servant."
"He'd never do that," Gwen said, ruffling his hair and pouring the water into the iron cauldron over her fire. "Your face's way too pretty."
"Oh, great." Merlin glared. "He'll chop off my head and put it on his shelf to look at it whenever he wants."
"Don't be disgusting," Gwen scolded. "And anyway, he likes other parts of you too."
Merlin slapped his hands over his eyes and convinced himself that he had not seen Gwen look where he knew she'd looked.
~*~
Merlin decided he hated all kinds of snow and snow-related games once he was forced to leave the maybe cold but at least dry walls of the castle to distribute several goblets of warmed wine among the knights. Arthur had sent for him exclusively for this task, and Merlin felt a spike of resentment when he realized that Arthur had known exactly what would happen.
The wine, well-fermented, went to the knights' heads almost immediately. The mood lifted, hilarity settling in as one of them, dropped his sword and helmet and, with a whoop of laughter, scooped a handful of snow and threw it at one of his companions.
In a matter of seconds, the knights were trying to drown each other in torrents of the white powder, and then one of them discovered it was easier to aim and hit when it was hardened between one's hands, and Arthur hollered to duck but it was too late as Merlin, still holding the tray and two more goblets, felt one of the balls hit the side of his head, felling him like a tree.
"Look, the boy!" one of the knights yelled. "He's down! Attack!"
Five of them maybe, or a dozen, followed the war cry, howling like wolves, burying Merlin under their bodies, and he had barely time to splutter or protest before multiple hands filled with snow ended up under his tunic and in his breeches and hair and mouth.
He heard Arthur's voice - "All right, all right, that's enough," - then he was free again, and the boys whooped and fell onto themselves, trying to get each other with the snow. He stayed on his back, gasping, trying to get some air in his lungs, his eyes squeezed shut against the melting snow.
"You spilled the rest of the wine," a voice beside him said, amused. Arthur. Merlin felt fingers sweeping the snow from his cheeks and eyes so that he could see again, blurry, able to make out Arthur's mocking smile. "You really should pay attention to these things."
Merlin shuddered at the cold-wet garment glued to his skin and just barely managed to hold back an insult worse than 'prat', "Let go of me," he spluttered instead, water in his mouth, down his windpipe, and he coughed. Arthur was still holding him by the arm.
"Aw, come on, don't be like that."
"Let go," Merlin snapped and jerked free, trying to work his feet under him to get away. The sounds of the other knights still horsing around were lost in the rushing of his ears.
"Merlin!"
He didn't listen, running back to the castle, heart beating wildly, soaked to the bone and feeling disgusting and frozen.
~*~
"Can it be goddamn spring already?" Merlin complained, sitting down on his chair for breakfast with Gaius. "I swear this is the longest winter we've ever had. And what is this? Is this even food? It looks like snow."
Gaius grinned. "It's snow porridge. Water is rare. Almost all of it is frozen. You can hold it over the fire for a while until it melts, if you want."
"I hate you," Merlin sighed.
"At least you sleep well these days," Gaius commented. "You look very well-rested. I have heard the prince's bed is highly comfortable."
Merlin glared.
"Hm. I should tell Morgana to try sleeping with Arthur if it makes it so much easier to get proper rest. Poor girl might stop having those terrible nightmares then."
"Yes, why not?" Merlin said, grumpy. "Gwen wants to sleep in his bed, too. Let's make it all four of us. All together. Why, do you want to join as well? Let's invite Uther. Oh no, wait, we can't, he will burn us all for defiling his son."
"Don't be melodramatic," Gaius said, his grin widening.
Merlin stabbed his porridge snow. Snow porridge. He really, really wanted winter to be over now.
~*~
Almost two weeks passed in which Merlin found himself forced to share Arthur's bed nightly. Arthur had never apologized for the snow incident, and Merlin knew he wouldn't. It was infuriating, but he was just a servant to Arthur.
The thing was, before, he'd known his place. Now, it seemed, it was not only at Arthur's feet but also in his bed.
But however annoying it was, it was also strangely pleasing, and Arthur's body moulded with his own easily, even unconscious as they were in sleep. They always found themselves half-entangled in the mornings, making it impossible for one of them to wake without the other getting up as well.
Twice he'd found himself in the precarious situation of having a sign of Arthur's dreams poking him in the back or thigh. More than that, his own - possibly dreams of Will, as they'd been the cause of erections before - or so he tried to convince himself. Certainly not of Arthur, who was a prat, and cruel, and ugly. Especially ugly when the sun was shining in through his eastern window, hair like threads of gold, rays falling on his eyelashes, making his eyes shine golden in profile.
Arthur'd climbed out of bed that morning, stretching his arms over his head, naked as always aside from the loincloth he slept in. Merlin reached out his hand to touch the muscles protruding from his back, imagining his fingertips sliding over strong shoulder blades.
"Clothes, Merlin," Arthur's voice cut through his thoughts, and he startled, rolling over and out of the bed on the other side.
"Yes, my lord," he said, words curt and clipped, and pulled his own clothes more tightly around himself. He was glad for the protection they offered as Arthur strutted towards the fireplace, poking the fire with the iron.
~*~
And then, as sudden as the snow had appeared, thaw set in, and the ice began to melt off the roofs, dripping down like little rivers of rain. The sun came out more and more as the cold grew milder, the harshness of the wind lessening. The people from the outskirts and far-away villages who had come for food and shelter began to return to their homes and the population thinned again.
"Told you it wasn't magic," Merlin said as he lit the fireplace in Arthur's room, getting soot all over his tunic as always, and felt self-righteous and slightly knowledgeable, because he had known - if there was a charm to alter the weather, he'd have found and managed it.
"Indeed, you did," Arthur agreed, grabbing his sword. "Buckles."
"One second -"
"Now, Merlin."
Merlin rolled his eyes, felt magic flow through him even without incantation, and the fire burst into flame just as he stood to help Arthur fasten his harness.
"There will probably be a feast," Arthur said, sounding impatient and exhausted. "Tonight. My father will want to make sure the people are reassured that winter is over."
"He might," Merlin said, because Arthur seemed to want a reply.
Arthur frowned. "Be sure to help with the preparations as you can, and feel free to join in the festivities, just remember to keep my cup filled and come up here early enough to arrange for the night as before."
Merlin blinked. "But -"
Arthur whirled around and walked out of the room without another word. Merlin could have sworn he'd seen a flicker of uncertainty flash in his eyes just before he'd turned his head.
~*~
Gwen stood behind Morgana when Merlin approached her. She smiled at him and he felt gratitude wash over him. "Arthur being a monster again?" she teased, touching his elbow.
"It seems to be too much to ask to be allowed to sleep in my own bed."
Gwen giggled. "He's keeping you?"
"It's not like it's still as cold as before!"
"I told you he likes you."
"I don't want..." he said, and did not finish the sentence, because the speeches were over and Arthur was giving him a come-here look, lifting his cup to indicate it was empty. He didn't want to finish that sentence either, because it was a lie, and he hated lying to Gwen. "I need to go."
Gwen smiled again, wistful this time, and he felt her gaze on his back until he reached Arthur's side.
Arthur drank a lot that evening, more than Merlin thought was good for him, and he said so softly upon the sixth refill. "The wine is strong, Arthur. You should be careful."
Arthur poked his cheek with his thumb, his grasp firm enough to hurt, and said, "And who're you to offer that kind of advice? My father? Shall I go find the hat to remind you of your proper place?"
There was a bout of laughter and snickers from the knights around him, and another round of cups were filled, leaving them all blabbering nonsense, slumped in their seats. Merlin sighed in disgust. He decided this was his call to leave and prepare Arthur's chambers for the night. He hoped the fire was still burning; he didn't fancy having to re-start it from scratch. Then he remembered he needed to carry in some more logs from the wood storage and that made him hurry up, glad the castle would be deserted enough to allow him the use of magic. Hauling them by hand would possibly kill him.
The candles burned down one third of the way before Arthur returned. He was supported by two servants who held his weight by his armpits, careful not to have him fall on his face.
When they stepped away and the door closed, Arthur looked a whole lot less drunk. Still, his face was softened from the wine, and there was something different about him as he went and bowed over the fireplace.
"It... smells so nice," he said, sounding surprised. "Like you."
"What?" Merlin stared.
"In the evenings. After you've gathered the wood and... started the fire." Arthur turned his head a little, half-smile curling his lip. "You smell like this."
"Oh."
"Why are you not - not in bed?" Arthur's tongue seemed too heavy for talk.
"I don't think that's a good idea. I should get down to my room, Gaius -"
"- knows you're here. Right?"
"Well, yes, but -"
"So get in."
"I just… don't think it's a good idea." Merlin pulled in his shoulders. "I think I should go."
Arthur pushed off the stone wall above the fireplace and took a step towards him, big and threatening. "Who cares what you think?" he growled. "You do as I say, or -"
"Or what?" Merlin lifted his chin. "You'll have me flogged?"
"You ins- insub- you ..." Arthur grasped his arm, hard, and that hurt. "You can't talk to me that way."
"Nobody else seems to, and look how that turned you into an arrogant prat."
Arthur bared his teeth and glared at him, eyes sharp in anger, then his grasp was gone from Merlin's arm and on his face, strong fingers like a vise. Merlin flinched in pain, and Arthur must have seen because his grip turned gentle, barely a touch, a caress, thumb grazing the spot beside Merlin's mouth.
A shudder went through Merlin, heat pooling in his stomach, and most of his blood rushed south. It made him light-headed, just for a second, the second it took Arthur to lean in and kiss his mouth, a little wet and then his teeth biting down, firm enough to sting. The sensation of pressure and the tip of Arthur's tongue licking over his lower lip made Merlin gasp, open his mouth. Arthur's tongue slipped past, and Merlin winced, drew back, startled into stumbles which left Arthur dazed, his arm out-stretched in an attempt to catch Merlin's face.
"I -"
"What?"
"We can't," Merlin said firmly.
He'd caught his breath, and his brain was starting to work again and he knew; he knew too well how bad an idea this was.
For one too-long moment, Arthur's face was bare, laid-out, desperately hurt by the rejection, then it closed completely, and his features grew cool and indifferent as he turned towards his bed, falling back to sit on it, eyes closed.
"Arthur -"
"That's my lord to you," Arthur said coldly. "You may leave."
"I didn't mean -"
"I said, leave."
Merlin knew protesting now wouldn't help, knew that it would only be met with more cold anger, so he gave in, feeling in the right still, because they couldn't.
He left the room, door falling shut behind him. The corridor was bitterly cold, a stark contrast to Arthur's heated chambers.
He could play the servant, give Arthur his intense loyalty and love, he could kneel and dress and wash his skin where Arthur himself couldn't reach, and hand him his sword before a fight, wishing him luck; he could even warm his bed if it was required of him, stay the night if Arthur needed such comfort and could not find it anywhere else. But he couldn't kiss and offer his body, because Arthur hardly ever knew what he wanted, and Merlin was risking everything as it was, his life, his position, his home, for what might just be a tumble in the sheets.
Arthur understood titles and addresses, proper bows and the fact that he had the privilege to be served. He didn't seem to understand that it was wrong, just because they were prince and servant, to believe one worth more than the other, and to abuse that privilege.
Merlin thought about it as he hurried down the hallways towards his little room and felt he'd made the right decision, no matter how his chest burned.
~*~