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The castle was buzzing with activity, servants flitting this way and that preparing for the feast three days hence. The Yuletide feast, it was one of Merlin’s favourites. It was always full of joy and mirth, a true celebration of the good things in the world. Of course Beltane and Mid-Summer were wonderful, but something about Yule brightened everyone’s spirits. He even loved the feast itself and the hectic chaos it involved; he loved watching Arthur relax in front of his father and the way even the stiff and fastidious Uther Pendragon would let a true smile grace his otherwise stern face. Yuletide held a magic of its own, a magic that wouldn’t be stopped by any laws or courtly decrees.
What he didn’t love, in fact hated with a passion was Arthur, or rather the words coming out of his lover’s mouth.
“I don’t still understand why I can’t go,” Merlin persisted.
“Because Merlin it’s… you could only go as my servant,” Arthur explained, or tried to. In truth he had hoped Merlin would understand without him having to spell it out for him. Of all the times for his insufferable manservant to play the dunce.
Merlin’s brow furrowed and he regarded Arthur with one of his more incredulous looks, “I thought I was, or have you gotten another manservant when I wasn’t looking?”
Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sometimes Merlin truly tried his patience; unfortunately, in this case, Arthur was bringing it upon himself. “Of course you are,” he sighed, then more lightheartedly, “where in all of Camelot could I find such an infuriating, disrespectful, idiotic manservant?”
“You forgot cunning and adorable with a smile to win even the greatest prat in all of the realm’s heart,” Merlin smiled as he slipped his arms around his prince.
Arthur gave Merlin a quick kiss, before returning to the matter at hand, the Yuletide feast. The problem was he wanted Merlin to go as a friend and ally, if not as a lover, but not as a servant. But in the eyes of Camelot Merlin was a servant and Arthur was the Crown Prince, and his father would never allow Merlin to attend as anything other than a servant. “Merlin,” his voice tinged with the vaguest hint of exasperation. “I don’t want you to go as my servant,” he tried to emphasize ‘servant’. “You aren’t merely my manservant, you know.” Merlin was his lover, his confidant, and his friend, he was not his servant, even in the light of day Merlin may serve him, but he was not his servant
“I know,” Merlin whispered. He still didn’t see why he shouldn’t serve Arthur at the feast; he had done so several times since this thing between them started, why should Yuletide be any different. Sometimes Arthur truly confused him- and he was supposed to be the infuriating one?
Merlin took one look at Arthur’s pleading expression and finally agreed, “Fine, Arthur, if you feel that strongly, I won’t go.”
“Thank you,” Arthur sagged with relief.
Merlin finished his duties with Arthur as quickly as he could, trying not to let his hurt show, but he knew the Prince noticed. Arthur was many things, some decidedly less complimentary than others, but he was not blind. There was a time before this thing between them started, before Merlin had told him the truth that Arthur would have let Merlin’s actions go as a mild annoyance or one of Merlin’s many ‘feminine’ moods, but now he saw through Merlin’s facades before Merlin could even get comfortable with them. Thankfully, for once Arthur let it slide.
Merlin was about to make his escape, a bundle of clothes to be laundered and Arthur’s favourite blue tunic that needed mending in his arms, when Arthur called, “Merlin.”
He turned in the doorway, “Arthur, I need to take these to the laundry and Gaius needs me to collect some herbs for him. I’ll be back before you have to dress for dinner.” Merlin didn’t hold any anger in his voice, but there was a trace of hurt, and he only met Arthur’s gaze for the briefest of moments before easing out the door.
Arthur had nodded, reluctantly. He hated leaving things in this state, but Arthur didn’t think he could put better words to it and if Merlin didn’t understand, he didn’t.
---
Arthur wasn’t surprised when Merlin didn’t want to share his bed that night, but it still hurt. It would’ve hurt less if he hadn’t returned to his rooms for the evening to find Merlin attending his duties, smile in place, insubordinate as ever, just being Merlin. It wasn’t until he’d helped Arthur dress for bed that the prince realized something was wrong. Merlin normally crossed the line between servant and lover as he help prepare Arthur for bed, landing small butterfly like kisses on his bare skin and neck, but tonight no such sweetness came. And when Arthur looked expectantly at Merlin, once he’d settled into bed, Merlin shook his head, still smiling, and brushed a hand over Arthur’s brow and through his hair, before bending to place a chaste kiss on his prince’s lips saying, “Not tonight.” Leaving a stunned prince to watch as Merlin disappeared behind his door.
His rooms seemed particularly cold that night. Merlin should have been warming his bed, their bodies warm and content wrapped in each other. He couldn’t help but wonder if Merlin felt the same. Not that he expect Merlin to come looking for the warmth of his prince’s bed- Merlin was too stubborn for that- but he did wonder if Merlin missed him.
Merlin hadn’t been able to sleep. He kept rolling over Arthur’s words to him that morning, trying to understand why Arthur didn’t want him. It was Yule, a time people spent with their loved ones, and didn’t Arthur love him? He had never had cause to question the prince’s feelings towards him, so why wouldn’t he allow him to spend the Yule Feast with him. Obviously, Merlin would never be allowed to go to the Feast as a guest, but he could still be at Arthur’s side, even if it was as his servant. And that was enough for him.
The morning found the castle buzzing with the extra activity for the feast and no one even noticed that Merlin had come himself for the prince’s breakfast- it was a task that more often than not fell to whatever servant passed the prince’s door in the morning in time to catch Merlin’s recounted orders. Merlin arrived at Arthur’s rooms in time to hear Arthur demanding a passing servant bring his breakfast. Merlin simply smiled and quickened his step to cut off any unnecessary duties being piled on his fellow servant.
“Sire,” Merlin greeted warmly.
“Ah, Merlin,” Merlin’s lack of sarcasm and anger in his greeting causing Arthur to stumble over his words for the briefest of moments before recovering his princely stature, “Saved this poor girl some work. I’d assumed you overslept as usual,” he admonished, shooing the girl away with a hurried, “You may go.”
“Well, as you can see,” his eyes sparkled with challenge, “I am not only awake, but I have your breakfast, which is well on its way to cooling out here not being eaten.”
Arthur seemed to finally realize he was blocking the doorway to his chambers. “Sorry,” he found himself muttering as he eased backed into the room for Merlin to follow.
Merlin quickly set the tray down at Arthur’s table, before asking, “For what?”
The blond looked up at Merlin, confused- a look he was becoming increasing used to wearing around his manservant.
Merlin smiled his giddy smile, the one that made his cheeks flush and eyes twinkle, the one that usually meant Arthur was in trouble. “For the door, for not thinking I’d be here, for the Feast? What?”
Arthur let out a small huff, more fond than annoyed. “For all of it?” he asked, blue eyes clear and hopeful.
Shaking his head, Merlin reached for the jug of warmed cider to fill Arthur’s tankard, whispering softly, “Prat.”
At his table Arthur smiled, knowing he’d been forgiven, for the moment. He knew the matter of the Feast still lay between them, but Merlin was not pushing the issue, for which Arthur was truly thankful.
As he passed on his way to pull out Arthur’s clothes from the wardrobe the young man snatched a sausage from Arthur’s plate.
“Hey!”
Merlin merely smiled at Arthur’s outburst, “Was there something you wanted?” he asked innocently between bites of the finely chopped meat.
Arthur threw a dried orange slice at his lover, who ducked deftly out of the way.
Merlin looked where the fruit had fallen behind one of Arthur’s large cupboards, “You expect me to find that don’t you?”
This time it was the prince’s turn to smile unremorsefully, “Better make it quick, we’ll be leaving soon to fell the Yule.”
Merlin rolled his eyes and whispered something unintelligible to Arthur’s ears and the fruit bit floated up from its hiding place and flew at Arthur’s face. “There, all done.”
Arthur looked down to his lap where the fruit had fallen and back up menacingly from under his lashes at Merlin, “You, are one very, very lucky warlock to have such an understanding and obliging master.”
“And you are one very lucky prince to have such a powerful warlock under your control,” Merlin replied, equal parts mischief and honesty in his tone.
“Come here,” Arthur commanded gently.
Merlin complied without hesitation or question and as soon as he was within reach Arthur wrapped an arm around his waist pulling him closer.
“I’m sorry …about the Feast.”
Merlin nodded and bent down for his morning kiss, one of the many things he’d missed with not spending the night in Arthur’s chambers.
“Come on, eat up. You have a tree to fell,” Merlin ordered, pushing out of Arthur’s hold to finish pulling out his attire for the outing.
---
Snow had come to Camelot in recent days, its layers unusually heavy and full. Everything within the castle walls was covered in layer upon layer of fluffy snow, the pristine white interspersed with twinkles of ice giving the entire town a magical feel. Outside of the castle gates, the world was white and crystal, icicles hung in small groups from branches covered in mounds of snow that should have weighed them down, but didn’t.
Arthur knew where they were headed; he’d scouted out a copse of trees some weeks ago and had been watching it since. He already knew exactly which tree they would be bringing back.
It shouldn’t have surprised him when Merlin dismounted and walked up to the tree Arthur had chosen, pressing his hand against the bark, whispering, “It’s beautiful,” before Arthur had even announced his selection.
A year ago, Arthur would have immediately changed his mind about the tree, not wanting to give his awkward manservant the satisfaction of being right. But that was a year ago. Now, Merlin’s strange acts of understanding and knowledge warmed his heart; Merlin truly did understand him, sometimes Arthur thought Merlin understood him better than he understood himself.
As the others set about the preparations for downing the tree Arthur sat across from Merlin as he worked the fire expertly, adding a hint of magic to ensure its warmth and vigor. It was a small touch, something none of the others would have noticed, but Arthur had spent these past months watching and learning Merlin, and now he saw. He saw the slight movement of lips and the barely there whisp of gold in his deep blue eyes, and the knowledge that all that power rested in the form of his Merlin gave him pause.
“What is it?” Merlin asked, eyes shifting around trying to see if there was something besides himself that Arthur could be staring at. “Is there som-” He was cut off by Arthur’s quiet laughter. The soft joyful sound, made Merlin smile and his cheeks redden with shared amusement.
Arthur shook his head and poked at the ground with a stray twig, “Merlin…” Arthur looked to see that the men were all busy elsewhere, before moving to sit next to his manservant. With another quick look to make certain no one was watching he ran his hand through Merlin’s hair, whispering, “You know I love you?” It was somehow both question and statement.
Night blue eyes looked into Arthur’s concerned face, “I know, Arthur.”
“Good,” he said with something that sounded and felt an awful lot like a relieved sigh, before pulling away and moving back to the other side of the fire. “Good.”
Merlin huffed a small, fond laugh, smiling warmly at his prince.
---
It was the early hours of the evening when they finally returned to Camelot, their precious load in tow. They were greeted by crowds of townsfolk; everyone excited by the arrival of the Yule tree, anxious to see what prize Prince Arthur had brought them.
Ever since he was a boy, still young enough to be carried in his father’s arms, Arthur had chosen the castle’s Yule tree, the one that would be chopped into the two Yule Logs of the castle- one for the market square and one for the Great Hall. It was a task that Uther had always shown such pride in his son for- something Arthur to this day didn’t understand. He could defend the realm against invading hordes, best monsters and magical beasts, gaining a smile and a nod, at most, a clap on the back from his father, but it was choosing a tree for Yule that gained him the true smile of warmth and caring that eluded him otherwise. It was because of this rarity of Uther’s nature that collecting the Yule tree meant so much to Arthur, it was a tradition he would gladly see through ‘til the day he died.
Yet today, even the rare and precious warmth of his father’s smile couldn’t lift the cloud over Arthur’s mood. He’d watched Merlin all day, his child-like fascination with the crystalline world around him, the way he smiled at Arthur as if everything was alright between them, as if Arthur hadn’t forbidden him to attended one of the most important feasts of the year, the one Merlin had more right than anyone to attend, but couldn’t because of the narrow mindedness of the man smiling and almost, but not quite, hugging him. It wasn’t right. How many times had Merlin saved Arthur’s life, the King’s, saved Camelot itself, yet he was still a servant and nothing more in Uther’s eyes. Arthur absently accepted his father’s praise, not hearing his words or feeling his touch; instead, he followed Merlin with his eyes, watching him go through the motions of tending their gear and the horses, not surprised in the slightest when the dark warlock turned to look Arthur straight in the eye and smile before heading up to their chambers. When had he started thinking of it as ‘their’, he wondered; even as he thought it, the plural made him smile. He excused himself quickly from his father, saw that the tree was secure for the night, and made his way to his rooms. He wanted a moment with Merlin before returning to his father for what would be an interminable late super.
As soon as he had closed the door his eyes sought out Merlin. He was busying himself setting out a change of clothes for Arthur’s meal with his father.
“Merlin,” he called a bit more forcefully than was warranted.
The young man stopped what he was doing and his eyes snapped to Arthur. “Sire?”
Arthur stalked over to his lover. “No,” he whispered as he pushed Merlin up against the wall and kissed him. “Not, Sire,” he panted against Merlin’s lips, between quick powerful kisses.
Merlin melted into the stronger man, his arms snaking easily around him. “Arthur?”
He was treated with a rumbling, “Mmm,” in return.
Soft moans and whimpers filled the room as they kissed, slow and languid, mouths easily fitting together, knowing each other, and knowing this was where they belonged.
“Arthur,” Merlin half moaned. “Clothes.”
“Mmm,” the prince agreed as he started to pull at Merlin’s tunic.
“No,” Merlin pushed the prince’s hands down. “Your father.”
Arthur stopped his distracted attempts to rid his manservant of his clothes, and sighed. “Right, Father.” He took a deep breath and stole another deep kiss from Merlin’s lips, before righting himself and stripping the outer layers he’d worn all day.
He let Merlin help him into fresh clothes, stilling his hands as they smoothed down the fabric over his torso. “You’ll be here when I’m through?”
Merlin smiled and shook his head in amusement. “And where else would I be?”
Arthur matched his smile and darted a kiss to Merlin’s cheek, before leaving to meet his father.
--
“Merlin?” Arthur called, exhaustion rife in his voice.
The young man was at Arthur’s side in an instant, “You’re tired, did you sleep at all last night?”
“Did you?” he answered wryly.
Merlin chuckled, “Come on, I prepared a bath for you.”
Arthur let Merlin undress him and help him into the steaming water. The supper with his father had proven even more tiresome than he’d expected. It wasn’t as if there had been great matters of state to discuss, it was merely the compound effect of a long day, after an uneasy and restless night, and an overwhelming need to be near Merlin fraying on his nerves.
The prince let his eyes drift closed as he lay back, a soft bone deep exhalation of breath passing his lips as his body succumb to the heat.
Merlin smiled down at Arthur and made to move away; a firm hand on his wrist stopping him.
“Join me.” Two fingers caressed the back of Merlin’s hand, “Please.”
Merlin nodded and began to remove his clothes, Arthur watching entranced as every piece of fabric was removed to expose another swath of perfect pale Merlin. He couldn’t help but reach out and rub a large battle calloused hand over Merlin’s beautiful arse as the younger man slid into the tub, and fitted up against Arthur’s chest.
“Comfortable?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Merlin hummed in reply.
Arthur nuzzled Merlin’s hair, “Stay tonight?”
“I doubt you could keep me away,” the words falling lazily from his mouth as he rested against his lover.
Smiling, Arthur slipped his arms around Merlin and, finally, relaxed completely.
---
The next morning, Arthur awoke to fingers running rhythmically through his hair and his head pillowed comfortably on his sorcerer’s chest.
“Morning,” Merlin muttered into Arthur’s hair.
“Mmm.”
“Better than yesterday,” Merlin allowed.
“Much.” Arthur’s fingers twirled in the fine hair over Merlin’s chest. “Listen, Merlin,” he began softly, “about the feast…”
“Arthur, don’t.” The young man stiffened slightly, but his fingers never faltered in their gentle combing of Arthur’s hair. “I’m not going,” he couldn’t keep the wistfulness out of his voice.
The next thing Merlin knew, Arthur was above him, straddling him and staring down at him with fiery eyes.
“You just won’t get it, will you! I want you there! I want you there more than anything,” he ground out vehemently, “but I will NOT have you there as my servant,” his voice was just above a whisper as he completed the weighty sentence and his head fell forward to press against Merlin’s. “You’re my friend, Merlin, even if you weren’t my lover, and I will not have my friend serve me on tonight of all nights.”
Merlin rubbed his nose along Arthur’s cheek. “Arthur,” he sighed, “you really are a prat sometimes,” letting Arthur know exactly what Merlin thought of his logic, but not arguing with it.
The blond chuckled, “But you love, me.”
Huffing a short laugh of his own, “That I do,” he said, pulling his prince down for the morning kisses they’d both missed the day before.
---
After their talk and Arthur’s confession that morning, Arthur had thought everything had been settled between them, but here it was well past noon and Arthur hadn’t seen Merlin since he’d left their bed hours ago. He wasn’t in their chambers, Gaius hadn’t seen him, neither had Gwen, nor any of the kitchen staff or stable boys or any of his knights, though in honesty everyone was caught up in the festiveness of the day, rushing around excitedly, adding their own small flourish to the Yule Log in the square, hanging holly and ivy on every surface that wasn’t already covered by it.
Arthur had truly believed that Merlin had understood, yet now it seemed he’d only been fooling himself and Merlin was hurt even deeper than before. Before, Merlin hadn’t been avoiding him.
He had hoped to see Merlin before the feast, spend as much time with him as he could before having to sit through hours of feigned merriment, when all he truly would want was to have Merlin at his side, smiling and laughing, sharing the joys that were supposed to thrive in this season.
It seemed Merlin had other plans.
Arthur couldn’t even bring himself to be overly surprised when Merlin wasn’t there to help him prepare for the feast; saddened at the loss and because he’d driven him away, but not surprised.
---
The room was quiet as the King lit the Yule fire; a collective cheer resounded through the Great Hall as the flames caught from the charred remnants of last year’s Log. The Yule Feast and all its revelry had officially begun, and Arthur couldn’t wait for it to be over.
All through the first courses Arthur picked at his food, eating just enough to be called eating and not incur any unwanted attention from his father. By the fourth course, he was trying to come up with believable excuses to leave the festivities so he could seek out his manservant and share what remained of the evening with him, if Merlin would allow him to do so.
He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed his father excuse himself, until he heard Morgana ask quietly, “Where’s Merlin, tonight?”
“I gave him the night off,” Arthur stated matter-of-factly; put off by being both jolted from his thoughts and oblivious to his father’s absence.
Morgana’s brow furrowed. “It’s not like you to miss a chance to have Merlin in that ridiculous outfit,” she teased, knowing full well Arthur would never make Merlin wear the official robes on a day like this, no matter how tempting it would have been.
“It’s Yule, Morgana,” he answered as if that explained everything.
“Yet for being Yule, you seem to be the only one not making merry,” she pointed out, “even your father is enjoying the spirit of the day.”
Arthur glowered at the young woman he’d grown up with and who, even now it seemed, could read him entirely too easily. He shook his head and sighed, “I ordered Merlin not to attend me tonight,” he admitted.
“Why on Earth would you do that? You know he adores this time of year, the Feast in particular.” It was Morgana’s turn to glower and her glare showed no signs of remitting. “Sometimes Arthur…” her jaw clenched.
If Arthur wasn’t already hating himself Morgana’s reaction would have caused him to. “I know, Morgana… but there are reasons. I don’t always do things just for the pleasure of tormenting Merlin,” he snapped, the sting of his words hitting him harder than they ever would her.
Morgana considered telling Arthur exactly what she thought of his ‘reasons’ and her opinion of his treatment of someone who obviously cared for him deeply, but her words were stayed by Uther’s return. Instead, she raised her head proudly and resolutely ignored the Prince.
Two more drawn out and pecked at courses had Uther leaning ever so slightly towards his son, “Arthur, are you feeling well? You’ve barely eaten all evening.”
At first, Arthur began to nod his assent then stopped himself. “Merely a loss of appetite, Father, doubtful it is anything more.”
“Are you certain, I’m sure Gaius wouldn’t mind…”
“Yes, Father. Though, perhaps I will retire early, if I may?”
“Certainly,” the King replied, more than a little concerned over his son’s behaviour and his wellbeing.
Arthur knew he needed to stay to the final course out of respect to all involved, but as soon as was allowable, the Prince excused himself. He doubted Merlin would be either in his rooms at Gaius’ or in their chambers, most likely he was down at the square reveling with the townspeople, putting all thoughts of heartless princes as far from his mind as possible.
So when Arthur walked into his rooms he was brought up short. Merlin stood at the mantle, the fireplace cold and unlit, even though the room was warm. Once again Arthur marveled at the power Merlin possessed and was once again awed that that power was freely given to him. He slowly took in the entire scene before him. On the table near the fireplace were two large serving plates filled with food from the feast, slices of venison and boar, cheeses and fruits, and pies and custards. “How’d you know?” he asked.
Merlin gave him he’s most incredulous ‘do you still think I’m an imbecile’ look then took pity on his lover, “You never eat much when you’re upset. And maybe I ran into Gwen in the kitchens and asked if you’d been eating.”
Arthur smiled and shook his head as he walked over to Merlin. Wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling his hair, “Thank you.”
“Mmm. She said Morgana had been giving you a hard time.”
“Nothing I didn’t deserve.”
Merlin gently pushed Arthur away, and Arthur’s expression turned hurt and sad. The young warlock just smiled and looked down into the fireplace. On the grate on top of the regular bed sat a plump length of branch from the Yule tree, covered in holly and green pine needles and ivy and all manner of Yule decorations. Merlin handed Arthur a charred piece of wood, and said, “Light it.”
Arthur looked from the piece of wood to Merlin and back again, his eyes shining. Before he could embarrass himself, he turned away taking a candle from the fireplace and knelt. Holding the candle to the charred wood, he let it catch fire momentarily, long enough for him to push it underneath the small Yule Log Merlin had made for them. Arthur watched captivated as the kindling and eventually the log itself caught fire; something he hadn’t done since he was a child.
As he stood Merlin came up behind him, sliding his arms around Arthur’s waist.
Arthur rested his own strong arms over Merlin’s and let himself sink ever so slightly into his lover’s embrace, allowing Merlin to be the strength for both of them as they stood watching the fire crackle and burn around the Yule Log.
Speaking softly against the hair he’d been quietly nuzzling, Merlin whispered, “This is our Yule.”
The gentle sound caused Arthur to finally turn towards his lover. His emotions roaming free on his face and in his eyes, mirroring the openness he always found in Merlin’s.
The sorcerer smiled, tracing a trail of salty moisture down Arthur’s cheek with his thumb. “Good Yule, Arthur.”