Chapter 1
Warning/s: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.
A/N: So this is just a plotbunny that popped out of nowhere. Honestly, I have no idea what inspired this. I don't have a plan for this story like I usually do, so suggest any ideas you have for the story and I'll taken them into consideration.
If anyone's concerned about my other stories, I'm not abandoning them, never fear ;)
Merlin watched the thunder roll across the sky almost lazily, resulting in a final, booming clap that seemed to explode directly over the castle. The lightning illuminated the sky shortly afterwards in a long, jagged crack that split the heavens in half. The rain was torrential, thick and heavy, a cascade of fat drops of water that was relentless.
Still, the guards were braving the weather, although possibly it was more from the duty of loyalty they held to their king rather than their own personal feelings. Merlin suspected that half of them would, given the chance, come sprinting inside at the first opportunity and settle in front of a blazing fire to warm the blood running through them.
He didn't envy them in the slightest; he was quite content to remain in Arthur's chambers for as long as possible. The king always had a roaring fire that heated the whole room and its occupants, and while Merlin was usually eager to escape back to his own chambers in the evening, tonight he had no wish to scurry through the chilled corridors back to his own freezing room.
He and Gaius had no fireplace, and while Merlin had his magic, he was cautious about using it, lest there be any unexpected visitors. Gaius's joints were never in the best of shape but in the harsh months of the winter, they appeared to seize up more than was usual and his aged guardian found all movement difficult.
Merlin was indignant over this on behalf of his adoptive parent but knew it was pointless to argue with anyone over the matter; it would benefit neither of them and would possibly get one or both of them into trouble.
Merlin stood up from sweeping ash from the fireplace with triumph and surveyed the pristine marble with pride. He may be clumsy, clumsier than any other servant in the castle, and awful at some jobs, but nobody in Camelot could claim to be a better fireplace-sweeper than him. "Finished," he announced for Arthur's benefit.
"Well done," Arthur replied absent-mindedly, not bothering to so much as glance in his direction. His gaze was focused on Guinevere, who was curled up on their bed, the covers lapping at her knees and her nightdress white and delicately embroidered. She had braided her hair and it ran almost fully down her back, and she was frowning at some paperwork clutched in her hands.
Merlin rolled his eyes; Arthur was extremely level-headed the majority of the time, but as soon as he saw his wife even slightly undressed (or sometimes just his wife full stop), his brains liquefied and dribbled from his ears. At this particular moment, Arthur had abandoned his own paperwork in favour of staring at his wife from the table, and Merlin decided to give the two some privacy.
"I should get back to Gaius," Merlin excused himself, bouncing across the room to the door, mentally bracing himself for the cold blast that was inevitable.
"Good night, Merlin," Gwen called after him, raising her voice so it was audible over the storm. A howling wind had started now, rattling the windows and threatening to drown their words out.
"Good night," Merlin returned, and pulled the door open. The gust of cold air was worse than Merlin had imagined, and he winced and shuddered. He made sure to close the door behind him securely to prevent any more of the chilled air entering their chambers. The last thing he saw was Gwen throw the papers behind her, seemingly uncaring that they scattered all over the floors, as Arthur approached and bounded on the beds.
Merlin tried to repress all thoughts of whatever they were about to do from his mind: he really didn't like imagining those things about his friends. He wrapped his jacket tighter around his skinny frame and headed down the many corridors and spiralling staircases to his own quarters. The wind screeched again and instinctively Merlin reached out for something to steady him even though he knew he was quite safe.
With his hand brushing the wall, Merlin trotted down the staircase and along what he thought to be the longest corridor in the castle, unaware of the trail of faintly sparkling, lilac dust he was depositing.
It was a quick, two-minute journey back to the physician's chambers and Merlin was disappointed to find that inside, it was colder than the corridors. "Gaius?" he called, surprised to find that the chambers were quite dark and, on further investigation, empty.
Merlin muttered a spell under his breath and the candles around him all sprung up in flames. With the chambers lighter, Merlin began to hunt and shift through Gaius's work for a note. It was peculiar – there was a potion that seemed to be only halfway made, and a bowl full of unground herbs. He found no note in his search but shrugged off the matter. In the past, Gaius had often been called out to an emergency and had had to drop everything in favour of the crisis, and had not always had the time to leave a note of explanation for Merlin.
Merlin, finding that he was not really that tired yet, decided to finish the work that Gaius had been doing, and recognised the potion as a common cure for a heavy cough. It wasn't strenuous work, and Merlin worked in silence. The light coating of lilac dust he left everywhere he touched was invisible to him.
Satisfied with the result of his concocting, Merlin carefully stored away the spare ingredients and left the small bottle out on the table in case Gaius came back before he woke. He noticed that a few of Gaius's supplies were running low, so he picked up the small slip of parchment that Gaius kept on his low desk and scribbled down which herbs were in dire need of replenishment.
He realised that he was putting off the time that he would have to undress and settle in his bed, and he knew the reason why: there was a small amount of magic in all storms, and it made Merlin uneasy. He didn't like sleeping with a storm on; he always feared that the excess magic in the air would send his own haywire.
At last, Merlin exhausted all means of procrastination and admitted that it was finally time for him to sleep, although he still was not tired. He suspected that the feeling was the storm again, providing him with excess energy, and that made him even more unwilling to fall into an unconscious slumber.
Nevertheless, he jogged into his room and closed his small window, not wanting to hear the shrieking of the wind the entire night. He tugged his shirt off over his head easily, the cold air causing goose-bumps to rise over his skin. Before he stripped down to just his underclothes, Merlin pulled his nightshirt from the closet and covered his torso with the thick fabric.
Merlin kicked his trousers onto the floor and then redressed in his sleeping trousers, picking his clothes up from the floor and stashing them back in his wardrobe. His bed was neatly made from his morning so Merlin clambered into it easily, resting his head on the pillow and staring at the wall opposite him. He dragged the covers up to his chin and whispered an incantation to light an unusually warm fire in the palms of his hands.
Suddenly, maybe from the drain on his magic, he felt his eyelids drooping. He extinguished the fire before he dropped off and then settled down, the lilac dust still not visible to him, even though it coated everything he had laid his hands on.
Merlin closed his eyes and allowed himself to drop off, still uneasy with the storm but now not able to escape the insistent tugging of the dreamland. Unbeknown to him, the lilac dust that he had spread over the walls of the castle had started to awaken.
A/N: I am currently running a writing competition for the Merlin fandom - it can be absolutely anything, please check out merlinwriting2014 . tumblr . com for more details (without the gaps, obviously). I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
