The wind had blown a tempest for nearly a week, bringing endless rain and sleet with it and driving even the hardiest souls into the barren fortress of Tintagel. Except for Elyan, who was cursing his decision to volunteer for this task and spend winter away from Camelot, where it was undoubtedly sunny and beautiful the day before Yule.

'The things I do for King and Country.' He sighed and cursed the ice that kept him from getting a solid hold on the door's latch while his fingers grew more and more numb. He didn't think he would be able to keep hold of the latch if he could grab it, so he settled for pounding on the door instead. Perhaps someone inside would hear, take pity on him, and let him in.

There was a long moment where he didn't hear anything except the howling wind and the far-off waves, but then the latch rattled and the door groaned on its ancient hinges, opening wide enough for a squint-eyed man to peer through. "Oh, it's you!" he called out, bracing himself against the wind as he held the door open for Elyan to come in.

Elyan staggered through the doorway and helped the old man close the door. "Aye, Bert, it's me," he panted.

Bert cackled, his lined face splitting nearly in two as he grinned and moved to help Elyan peel his cloak off. "I 'alf thought you'd fallen off the wall and into the water, long as you were gone. I was dreadin' having to tell Sir Leon the waves ate you up."

"Well, we've put that task off for now, haven't we?" Elyan scrubbed a hand over his hair and face to wipe the water away. The stubble on his cheeks was getting long enough to start itching, but the lack of mirrors made the thought of taking a razor to his jaw unappealing. Or he could see if someone else could, but the thought of asking someone like Bert, with his shaking hands, to hold a blade to his throat was even worse. Perhaps he'd just have to give in to necessity and grow a beard, like most of the other men were.

"That we have, young sir, that we have." Bert made sure the door was firmly latched before he took up his lantern and led the way further into the gatehouse Pynell had exiled Arthur's men to. While the thick walls ensured that they would be warm enough at night, the lack of windows gave it an oppressive air. And it was as far away from Pynell and his men as they could get without camping in the outskirts of the forest. "Though if this storm keep on, we'll have to save ourselves from ourselves. It's no good to have men cooped up like chickens for days on end."

"No, Bert, it's not," Elyan agreed. He cupped his hands and breathed into them as he walked. The pinpricks of feeling rushed back into his fingers as he warmed up, and he winced. "Is Leon waiting for me?"

"Aye. Though what else he'd be doing on a day like this is beyond me. Not like a man can go for a walkabout in here, or practice with a sword without breaking it against the walls. I know his Lordship don't like us king's men, none, but it's nigh on cruelty to keep us out here in this blasted place. Not when there's windows and the like in the keep. I know for a fact they're there, too. The windows, that is. They was full o' stained glass once. I saw them, years ago when I was here with the young master's father, back when Gorlois held it. A beautiful place it was, especially in the evening, in the great hall, with the sunlight shinin' through. Only Camelot's hall was prettier. Though after all the troubles this old place has seen, maybe them windows aren't there anymore."

"I don't think they are," Elyan said. He couldn't remember seeing any stained glass windows, just gaping holes Pynell's men were hastily boarding up before the rains came. "It could be that we got the better end of this bargain. We might not have any windows, but we'll stay warmer without them."

Bert's lips twisted in thought, then he ducked his head in assent. "I suppose you may be right, young sir. Still, it's no good for the men to have naught but firelight this time of year. The days are dark enough as it is. And to be separated from the horses, too. 'Tis an evil fate for men like me."

Elyan might have smiled at the old man's definition of an 'evil fate', except that Bert was a simple man with simple desires. He'd been the stablemaster for Leon's household since before Leon was born, and the horses were his life. The creatures were warm enough where they were and being looked after by competent stableboys, but Leon had insisted that Bert stay in the gatehouse with the men. His aging, arthritic joints locked up in the cold. "With any luck, this storm will pass soon enough," Elyan tried to cheer him up.

"Aye, it will. Just in time for another one to blow up off the sea. 'Tis the way of things," Bert sighed. He knocked on a door, hardly waiting for an answer before he pushed it open. "Sir Elyan's come back, M'Lord."

Leon glanced up from the parchments on his desk and smiled. "Thank you, Bert. Now go on and get yourself to bed. You'd been complaining about your joints all day. You might as well sleep through some of this storm."

"Would that we could sleep through the whole damned thing, M'Lord," Bert said as he bowed and limped away.

"That would be one way to get through it," Elyan said as he dropped into the chair by the fire. "These conditions can't be good for him. Why'd you bring him along?"

"I couldn't stop him. He can still saddle a horse and ride as well as men a third his age, and he's as loyal as Merlin. I could've ordered him to stay at home until I was blue in the face, and he would have followed along anyway." Leon shook his head as he poured Elyan a cup of mulled wine.

"He certainly likes to complain about being here."

"He'd find fault with anything. If it wasn't to do with being stuck in here, it'd be about lazy stableboys or the poor quality of feed for the animals. But he is the best at what he does," Leon said. "Anyway. Did your little quest out into the elements yield anything?"

Elyan sipped his wine, enjoying the warmth and spices for a moment before looking up at Leon. "No, it didn't. And don't say 'I told you so'."

Leon held his hands up in mock surrender. "I wasn't going to. All I said was that the birds weren't likely to be out in this weather."

"And you were right, of course," Elyan grumbled. "I had hoped that, after a week and a half, that we'd have gotten some word from Arthur. Maybe Merlin would have enchanted the birds to fly through the storm."

"He wouldn't do that. For all the power he has, he won't force anyone- or anycreature- to act against their nature. But I can understand your wanting to get out of here for a while, even if it's out into the wind." Leon poured himself a cup of wine. "I think I'll go half-mad if we're forced to stay in here much longer."

Eylan nodded and swiped at his neck. Some bit of ice must have caught on his collar and melted. It ran down his back and sent a chill down his spine. "If we could just get word in or out. It's the waiting for one or the other that bothers me. We came here to keep an eye on Pynell, and with the weather and our being stuck out here, we can't do a damned thing about it."

"If there is a bright side to this storm," Leon said, "it's that Pynell can't do much about his plans, either. If we're stuck, then so is he. Just hold onto that thought."

"As well as I can, with two freezing hands," Elyan said, raising his cup in a toast. "Until then, I'll just have to think about how warm and bright it must be in Camelot right now. It can't be this miserable everywhere, after all."

"Do you suppose it's snowing everywhere in the Five Kingdoms? Or are we just the unlucky ones who are doomed to be slowly buried in it?" Elayne pulled the curtains aside and stared out over the courtyard where the wind still howled, and the snow still fell so thickly that it was impossible to see the ground. It made the citadel feel like an island amidst the clouds, a magical castle of the air. "Come springtime, some envoy from Nemeth will wander in and find us all dead and frozen in the snow."

Guinevere laughed as the girl stomped back to the fireside and collapsed back into her chair. Not that she could look angry while she was stomping. She was too slight to make too much noise, no matter how hard she stamped her feet. "And here I thought you were the most cheerful of us. I must have been wrong about that. Ladies, no longer do we have the pleasure of keeping company with Elayne the Bright. No, now we must deal with Elayne the Very Gloomy. Elayne of the Perpetual Snow."

The others laughed, and Elayne looked down at her hands, a faint smile tugging at her lips. It wasn't just the warm firelight that put a rosy glow on her cheeks. "Well I don't have anything in particular to keep me occupied like you do. My part in all this is done," she said, gesturing at the length of fabric that Guinevere and Linnet were embroidering with chains of green leaves and red flowers. "If there were another wedding gown I could sew, then I wouldn't feel so useless. But I've finished the sewing, and my embroidery isn't as fine as yours or Linnet's. And I can't even craft holly crowns like Niniane is. So what am I supposed to do?"

"You could take lessons in geography, history, or medicine with Gareth and Erec. I'm sure Merlin wouldn't mind if you listened in," Guinevere said. She had half a mind to do the same thing, if only to alleviate the boredom that four days' enforced idleness had cursed them with. Crafting Linnet's wedding gown gave them something to do, but eventually they would tire of the endless, tiny stitches and decide that tossing the gown out the window would be preferable to embroidering yet another leaf.

Elayne shrugged and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. "I wouldn't mind listening in, but Erec's such a… a little boy! He's a high-minded brat one minute, and terribly naive the next. And before you all say that I'm naive," Elayne pointed directly at Linnet, "At least I know what goes on between a man and a woman in their bedchambers at night. I don't know whether I should feel sorry for poor Erec, or try to knock some sense into him with a big stick."

"Any son of Lord Pynell is bound to be confused in Arthur's court," Guinevere said.

"I'd actually be inclined to feel sorry for the boy," Linnet said. She didn't look up from her embroidery, but from the tilt of her head and the way she wet her lips, she fully expected one of them to ask her why.

Guinevere rolled her eyes and took the bait. "And why is that?"

"Because of Lady Fira, of course," Linnet said. She tied off a stitch and set about re-threading her needle before she went on. "I hear that she runs Highwood Keep like it's some sort of nunnery, and that she's so strict with the children you'd think they were all criminals instead of nobility. Being here in Camelot is probably the first taste of real freedom the boy's really had, and he's only here because he's the elder son of one of the king's enemies."

"That's why Gareth's here, and he's doing just fine," Guinevere pointed out. "And he's not even from Camelot."

"I think I could find it in myself to feel sorry for him," Niniane spoke up at last. "It's well known that the king and Lord Pynell are rivals. It's not easy to be here, and be seen as an enemy. I know that well enough."

"He's only been here a few weeks," Guinevere said. "Perhaps when he's gotten used to life around the castle, he'll be more open to new things. There seem to be more and more boys his age here at court all the time."

"More political hostages," Linnet said under her breath.

"Hostages that Arthur treats as fairly as any of his knights," Guinevere said. "Gareth is the proof of that. Just look at how he's blossomed since he arrived."

"And look at how much he eats. He's going to be taller than Bedivere if he keeps growing," Niniane said as she wound her last sprig of holly into the crown. She lowered her eyes and waved her hand over the holly crown. Guinevere thought she saw a faint flash of gold in the Druid's eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure. "There. Now you'll be a proper Queen of Winter this Yule. The berries are just glass beads, but the real ones were gone when I picked the leaves."

"I'm still jealous that you got to go outside the castle walls before this storm settled in," Guinevere said. "It feels like I've been inside forever. If it hadn't been for the council meetings, I'd have gone with you." Alas that the council hadn't met for the past three days. Even the arguments they had would be preferable to the endless gray days. She and the other women had spent most of the past two days in this room, the Queen's Solar, where the windows faced the south to catch as much light as possible, and that still couldn't chase away the gloom.

"Well, you'll be able to use up some of that pent up energy at the feast tomorrow night," Niniane said, her eyes sparkling at the thought. "I hear there will be dancing and music and all sorts of entertainments."

"Indeed there will," Guinevere smiled at the girl's excitement. Compared to the festivities of previous years, their plans for the next evening were relatively modest. But Niniane didn't need to know that. "Though the weather this year means there will less of a feast than usual, but the rest of the party should make up for that."

"We could be eating old leaves and dried up twigs, for all I care. I'm just interested in the music. I've only heard Gaspar and his troupe play once since they arrived. But they were wonderful!" Niniane hopped up and pulled Elayne to her feet, twirling the younger woman around in circles until Elayne was too dizzy to walk straight.

"I see that your dancing hasn't improved at all," Linnet smirked.

"I don't care about my dancing," Niniane laughed as she helped Elayne find her balance again. "There's going to be warmth and candlelight and music tomorrow! There's no better cure for these dark days than that!"

"I don't understand."

Merlin barely kept himself from heaving a weary sigh at Erec's question. It was only the twentieth or so that the boy had asked in the past two hours, and he couldn't figure out if Erec was not paying attention because he had too much pent up energy, or if he was maybe a bit daft. "What don't you understand?"

"The Romans, of course," Erec said. "You said they were powerful. You said they were a great empire, but they were defeated by the Picts, and then they abandoned Prydain altogether. If they were so strong, why couldn't they hold onto their own lands?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Gaius smirk, and Gareth's shoulders slumped a little lower. "No one knows the answer to that. Or at least, no one knows all the answers. There's usually no one answer for major events like that, Erec. It was a host of things that brought the Romans down- they had stretched themselves too far to defend against invasions close to Rome, they didn't have a stable government, they couldn't feed all their people. The list could go on and on. But I think that's enough for today," Merlin said.

Gareth brightened and sat up, but Erec frowned and opened his mouth to say something. Merlin spoke up before the boy could. "I think you have entirely too much energy for lessons right now. A consequence of being cooped up for so long. You should bundle up go run around outside, or go see if the knights have chores for you to do. If anything, they'll have stories to tell to keep you occupied." He waved them away with a tired gesture.

"But-"

"Come on," Gareth didn't waste the opportunity to flee and grabbed Erec by the arm to make sure he came along. "He's letting us go. Don't ask questions. Just go," he said, flashing Merlin a smile to show he meant no insult. It took a bit of convincing, but after a few moments, Erec reluctantly followed the taller boy's lead.

Merlin let out a long breath, folded his arms on the table, and laid his head on them. "Why did I ever agree to this?" he asked the table, taking note of the old nicks and scratches, studying them like they were an ancient language that had been forgotten until now. "What do I know about teaching boys about history? Gareth is constantly bored, and Erec hardly believes a word I tell him."

"You're doing just fine," Gaius said, his feet scraping against the floor as he came over to pat Merlin on the shoulder. "You've made more progress with both of them in the past two weeks than I managed to make with Arthur in six months when he was their age."

"Is that a testament to my teaching skills, or a mark against Arthur's intelligence?" Merlin chuckled. He sat up and rubbed at his half-gloves to try to make the itching stop. It had been irritating him all day. There were moments he simply wanted to tear the gloves off and just scratch until the itch went away, or his skin. Whichever came first.

"Perhaps a bit of both. Arthur was never a very careful student." Gaius settled himself into the chair Erec had vacated and held his hands out. "Let me see. Your wrists have been bothering you all day. Don't think I haven't noticed."

"I'm sure it's just the dry air," Merlin said. Surely it was that, and had nothing to do with the fact that it was approaching the one-year anniversary of his imprisonment. His burning. His mother's death… He rolled his shoulders to chase away the rest of the aches that flared up at the thought of it all.

"It could be that," Gaius said. He undid the knots and tugged at the lacings until the worn leather coverings came free, revealing the marbled skin circling Merlin's wrists. They had said the flesh had burned away until the bones showed through, that the heat of the shackles had fused skin to metal, tearing chunks of it away when they broke the shackles. They said the sight of it had been enough to make a man retch, but they hadn't lived through it all. There were times his hands still felt weak, like the strength of his grip was far less than it had once been.

"It's better than it was," Gaius said as he turned Merlin's hands over. "It's still healing. Perhaps with time and your magic, it will be like the pyre never happened."

"Perhaps my body will forget it, but it will stay in my dreams forever."

Gaius looked up at him, his sad gaze searching Merlin's face. Merlin refused to meet it, kept staring at the scratches on the old table. "I suppose the worsts beasts are the ones that live in our memories." He opened a jar of some sweet-smelling salve and gently dabbed it on Merlin's wrists. It was cool and soothing, like jumping into a clear pond on a hot summer's day. The itch went away immediately. "At any rate, the Yuletide festivities should brighten your spirits, if only for a night."

"I hope so," Merlin said, sighing. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so melancholy, it's just-"

"You've faced a lot in the past year." Gaius finished dabbing the salve on Merlin's wrists and started wrapping them with finely woven linen bandages. They'd been packed with lavender, and the scent still clung to them. "There's nothing wrong with feeling low from time to time. It's part of being alive, Merlin. You should know that as well as anyone."

"You mean I already know that better than everyone?"

"I suppose that's true," Gaius said as he tied off and tucked in the ends of the bandages. He brushed a hand over his eyes, suddenly looking wearier than his advancing age would suggest. "I'm sorry. I just very tired all of a sudden."

"You should get some sleep, then. It's probably to do with how early night falls these days. I doesn't help that we're shut up in here because of the snow. If we could just go outside for a while." Merlin shook his head and conjured up the best smile he could find. It didn't feel like it reached his eyes, though. "I'll let you rest while I go find something to do. I haven't seen Arthur all day. He's probably driving everyone a bit mad. He gets tetchy when he's cooped up."

"That he does," Gaius said. He braced his hands against the table to stand up.

Merlin bit his lip to keep from asking if the old physician needed help. He knew the answer would be a resounding 'no', and that Gaius would see it as an affront to his dignity. And as an acknowledgement that age was catching up to him. He couldn't keep up with things as well as he used to, and the cough that had settled into his lungs in the autumn steadfastly refused to leave. But even if his steps were slower, his mind was quick as ever. Neither of them mentioned how Merlin had been taking up the slack in Gaius's duties.

"Sleep well, then. I'll see you tonight," Merlin said as he opened the door and waited for Gaius to shuffle across the room, disappearing behind the screen that hid his bed from view. There was a rumpling of blankets and the creaking of a wooden frame, and it was as quiet as it was going to get. Merlin half-smiled and extinguished the candles with a quick spell and a wave of his hand. He closed the door behind him as quietly as he could and trudged down the stairs.

There was a certain kind of energy that normally buzzed about the castle a day or two before Yule, a feeling that traced over his skin and lifted the hairs on the back of his neck, like how the air felt moments before a bolt of lightning, when the world held its breath in anticipation of the strike. Merlin felt it still, felt it shiver down his spine when he passed a group of people, whether they were servants or nobles. But it was muted, as though the season's cheer had been buried in a blanket of snow along with the rest of the city.

The decorations were as colorful as ever, with evergreen boughs crowning the archways of the larger hallways while clusters of white candles provided a warm glow against the deepening blues and grays of the evening beyond the windows. Patterns of frost laced across the outside of the glass, as though nature had seen fit to help decorate.

Merlin traced a finger along the jagged swirls the ice crystals had made. A childhood habit, begun before he could remember starting it. He and his mother would pass the evening hours breathing on their tiny glass windows to fog them up before drawing patterns against the frost. Sometimes the waning sunlight would hit the panes just so and send tiny rainbows into the darkening room to dance across their faces. It had always been the simplest things that they had cherished the most. Ephemeral things, here and gone again like the flash of a falling star.

It was his first Yule without her. Of course he had been away from Hunith for years before this, but he had always known she was there in Ealdor, drawing shapes among the frost and thinking of him as she cooked a simple Yuletide meal.

And now she was gone, burned and buried next to his father.

His hand dropped to his side and looked at his wavering reflection in the glass. It was old and thick and imperfect, distorting his face though his eyes stared back at him with an intensity he was unfamiliar with. Behind him, a group of candles burned brightly, ringing his visage with a fiery glow until Merlin was certain he smelled smoke. The remembered buzz of the mob rose along with the smoky memories.

Merlin spun away from the window, swallowing back the bile that rising in his throat. 'I don't remember what happened at Blackheath,' was his refrain whenever anyone brought the subject up- a rare occurrence these days. But sometimes, a memory would surface, unbidden, summoned by some everyday happening- the scent of candle smoke, a certain pitch of a rough voice, the sickening tang of iron in the back of his throat from the scent of blood or a blacksmith's forge.

Someday, perhaps, he would leave that dark cell behind him. He hadn't managed it yet.

He hurried up the stairs toward Arthur's chambers. A pair of guards stood on either side of the hall. They leaned against the wall, keeping watch even as they relaxed and talked quietly about castle gossip. Merlin could see it in the way they straightened ever so slightly at his approach, their fingers tightening around sword hilts, and eyes watching his every movement for signs of treachery. He gave them a pleasant smile and passed them by. Maybe someday they wouldn't regard him with those suspicious looks, but for now he had to endure it.

"Arthur?" he knocked on the door and waited a moment, his senses already reaching out to find the king. It was an unconscious action, one he did a hundred times a day without thinking of it, stretching out with his magic to find Arthur. Like flowers whose blossoms follow the sun across the sky, his mind naturally gravitated to wherever Arthur was.

And Arthur was in his chambers, though he didn't answer. Merlin opened the door anyway, being careful to rattle the latch and let the hinges squeak, just to alert Arthur. If he was paying attention.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked again. He let the door bang shut behind him. His gaze wandered about the darkened room, finally finding the king staring out the window with his arms folded across his chest. "Have you left this room at all today?"

"Hm?" Arthur tilted his head toward Merlin. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you'd left your room today?" Merlin said. He moved to pick up the clothes that had been left lying about since George was last there, and straightened the papers on the desk. The oldest habits died hardest of all.

"No. I've been…" Arthur shook his head. "I've been lost in thought."

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing. It's- nothing." He turned away from the window with a frustrated sigh. "It's been nearly two weeks since we heard anything from Leon, Elyan, or any of the spies I sent to Tintagel. I can't help but wonder if it's the weather that keeps them silent, or if something's happened to them."

Merlin ladeled out a cup of mulled wine from the pot simmering over the fire. The sweet scent was enough to drive the smoke out of his mind. "Surely Pynell couldn't have found all your agents. You only sent a few dozen of them."

Arthur smirked humorlessly. "Not quite that many. And you're probably right. He couldn't have found them all. It's just the snow keeping them from sending messages." He didn't sound completely convinced of it, though. "I don't suppose you can…" he waved his fingers in the air above his head.

"I can't tell what the weather's like over Tintagel with a wave of my hand. It takes a lot more effort than that," Merlin said, smiling faintly as he handed Arthur the wine. "Even I can only see so far. Have faith in your men. They're smart, capable, and perfectly able to take care of themselves. You wouldn't have sent them otherwise."

Arthur half-collapsed in a chair by the table and sipped his wine. "I suppose you're right," he said reluctantly. "But I can't help but wonder. What are they doing? What's stopping them from communicating? What does Pynell have planned? There are too many questions, and not enough answers. I don't suppose…" he trailed off and looked up at Merlin. "You haven't seen anything have you?"

"No." Merlin shook his head. "I haven't had any visions. None of my dreams have been… unusual." Nothing out of the ordinary for him of late, just winding forest paths and twisted trees. When they weren't filled with the scent of smoke. "But if that changes, I'll let you know."

"I'd appreciate it," Arthur said. He rested his chin in his palm and turned the cup around and around in his other hand. "I hate not knowing."

"I think everyone hates that," Merlin said. "Although, sometimes I think knowing is worse than not knowing." He raked his fingers through his hair and turned away, opening a cabinet to retrieve a particular wooden box.

It had been a wedding present to Arthur and Guinevere- from King Urien, of all people. Whether the chess set had been meant purely as a gift, or if was meant to be some sort of message, Merlin couldn't decide. Whatever it was, it was beautiful. The board was inlaid with squares of black and white marble, while the pieces themselves were delicately carved from pale ash and ebony wood. The set's creator had put hours and hours of painstaking effort into his work, and it showed both in its appearance and the feeling of it.

"That's the problem with the future, I suppose," Arthur said. "It's awful not to know what's going to happen in situations like this, but it must be just as bad when you do know and you're just waiting for the hammer to fall."

"That's been my experience," Merlin said as he laid out the chess pieces on the board, with the black pieces in front of him while the white ones went to Arthur.

"What happened to your hands?" Arthur asked sharply, perhaps moreso than he intended.

Merlin glanced down at the bandages around his wrists. "Nothing. It's the dry air was bothering…" he couldn't bring himself to say my scars. He hated admitting the weakness, that they still bothered him, both physically and mentally. Besides that, admitting that his wrists itched would force him to acknowledge that the rest of the scar tissue itched like mad, too. He had almost managed to put aside the desire to scratch off every bit of skin from his back and his legs. "Anyway. Gaius put a salve on my wrists, and I forgot to put the gloves on. Nothing more nefarious than that. First move is yours."

Arthur gave him an appraising look, then turned his attention to the chessboard. "I still don't understand why you insist on playing this game. You beat me four games out of five."

"And you're beginning to be a far more gracious loser than ever before," Merlin said as he moved a pawn forward in answer to Arthur's opening move. "But really, you're the one who should be winning. You're the strategic one."

Arthur snorted and covered his mouth to hide his laughter.

"What?"

"It's nothing. Just something from a long time ago." Arthur's smile lingered as he turned his attention to the chessboard, fingers twitching as he mapped out this move or that. He finally reached out and moved one of his knights so it threatened one of Merlin's rooks. "Why does Niniane call you 'Emrys'?"

Merlin knocked one of his pawns over. Then he knocked another one down trying to set the first one upright again. "Um. Well. It's what the Druids call me. In their own language, anyway. It's part of one of their prophecies."

"Another prophecy? And all about you. You must be very important, then, to have a prophecy all to yourself and a second name, too." Arthur raised an eyebrow and moved his bishop halfway across the board to take out one of Merlin's knights.

"A lot of people have two names, Arthur Pendragon," Merlin said as he pondered the layout of the game. There was a deceptively easy way to remove Arthur's queen from the board, but that was a trap. If he fell for it, he would leave his own king open to being captured. He slid a rook across the squares to threaten one of Arthur's knights. "And the prophecy isn't so much about me as it is you."

"Is that so? Does it make any more sense than your visions?" Arthur asked. His move was a quick one, pushing a pawn one space forward.

Merlin frowned, trying to ferret out the reasoning behind that simple move that did not appear to do anything that he could comprehend. "They call you the Once and Future King, and say that you're to bring about the golden age of Albion," he said absently.

"A golden age?" Arthur's gaze went distant for a moment, thoughtful, as though trying to figure out how in the world he could accomplish such a thing. Then he huffed a laugh and smiled as he moved another pawn. "Then what's your role in all of this? Court jester?"

Merlin folded his hands and rested his chin on them as he tried to figure out Arthur's strategy. "I'm meant to protect you," he muttered, finally settling on a course of action. He moved his queen forward. "What are you doing?"

"I'm playing chess." Arthur said. He moved another pawn forward. "Check."

"What? How?" Merlin looked at the board, confused. Arthur's pawns stood in a triangular formation that Merlin hadn't seen until he moved his queen out of the way. Now his king was nearly trapped with only one move to make, and even that wouldn't make a difference. He sighed and moved his king back one space. Not that it could change anything.

"Checkmate," Arthur said, a triumphant grin spread across his face as he tipped the little black king over.

"You distracted me!"

"It's called strategy, Merlin. Even you think I'm good at that," Arthur laughed.

"Well." Merlin sank against the back of the chair and rubbed at his wrist. "I guess I have to admit that. I'll keep your tactics in mind for next time."

"I'll just have Niniane play in my stead. It wouldn't matter if she didn't know how to play. You wouldn't be able to stop staring at her, so I'd win by default."

A slow burn rose in Merlin's cheeks. He ducked his head to hide it, but Arthur laughed anyway. "I suppose I'll have to have Gwen sit in next time, then. You'd spend the game staring at her, and I would win."

"Or we could just let the ladies play. That would be an interesting spectacle."

"Not for long," Merlin said. "Gwen would win every time."

"You might be right about that," Arthur said with a fond smile.

"There are no 'might bes'. She would win. She'd probably beat you, too. Gwen's a lot smarter than you are," Merlin said. He set the pieces back into their proper places. If Arthur wanted another go at it, they'd play. Otherwise the board would wait for another dreary day.

"It's good to hear you think my wife is smarter than I am. I hope that doesn't mean you think I'm a complete idiot." Arthur scowled and sat back in his chair, arms crossed, with a smile threatening to spread across his face.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Your wife is smarter than you. She has a lot more sense than most people I've met. Myself included."

"I'll give you that much, then. You make absolutely no sense most of the time, Merlin." Arthur glanced out the window, where the snow still fell. "But by the by, when is it going to stop snowing?"

"You think I can control the weather?"

"You have before."

Merlin took a breath to dispute the point, then stopped. "You have a point. But I don't intend to ever do that again. As for the snow?" He shrugged. "Another day? Maybe two? I honestly don't know. It will stop when it's ready to stop. That's the best answer I have."

"Hmph. Well, if you can pick any answers out of the air, will you let me know? I'm looking forward to the end of this bloody storm." Arthur launched himself out of the chair and set to pacing toward the window and back again.

"So am I. Still, it's better than being stuck out in the cold for days on end like last year," Merlin said, thinking back to the days they had spent on the road to Blackheath under a clear and frigid sky, and the nights spent listening to the icy wind howling endlessly. At least this Yule would be spent indoors where it was warm.

"I suppose there is that," Arthur said faintly. He stopped suddenly, his restless energy gone as still as the air before a lightning strike. His gaze fixed on the fire in the hearth. He shuddered, then shook himself out of his fugue before all but pouncing on the chessboard. "Let's play again."

Merlin nodded, keeping his eyes on the game as Arthur pondered his first moves, studiously avoiding looking over his shoulder at the fire. Or at the candles. Or at their reflection in the glass. His own memories had been of ice and wind just then, but Arthur's must have been of fire.

"You know I'm not going anywhere tomorrow," Merlin said softly. Arthur resisted looking up at him. His lips were drawn into a tight line. "Not going anywhere at all. Not even to Mass."

Arthur snorted and knocked over one of his pawns. "You act like I expected you to be there. I don't think wild horses could drag you into the chapel."

"Not without a lot of fuss."

"At least I know you'll be at the feast tomorrow night," Arthur said as he moved a knight forward and took one of Merlin's pawns from the board.

"Why's that?"

"Because Niniane will be there," Arthur grinned. "And wherever she goes, so go you."

'Perhaps,' Merlin mused. Given the chance, he would spend his time with her. As much of it as he could, if only so he could hear as much of her laughter as he could to keep the memories of it reserve for darker days. But if the time arose, and he had to choose between Arthur and Niniane, he knew which way he would go. He was Arthur's, through and through.

A/N: Apologies for the delay! I spent November working on a project for National Novel Writing Month, and this month has been far busier and more tiring that I thought it would be. Thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoy the new story.