Banna Roinnmid

Even if Camelot had forsaken most of the traditional celebrations that revolved around the Old Religion, it couldn't change the costumes. Uther had rained for over twenty years and raged a war against magic, but while people feared sorcerer's and their ways, they still reunited on the old ways when it came to counting the year. On Beltane, they'd light fires and dance, lying on the ground to share its fertility. On Samhain, they'd remember the dead and drink in their memory.

So, on Yule night, there was a feast for all of the court to attend – they'd eat and laugh, and pretend that they didn't know that outside the people were sitting in the dark cold and waiting for the moment in which winter would start to loosen its clutches to light their new fire. On the castle, such things weren't to be done.

Which, of course, never stopped anyone – it was a poorly guarded secret that after the banquet Arthur's most trusted knights would reunite in one of their chambers and sit in the dark, trading stories until it was time. Elyan and Merlin would be the ones that walked to the lower town and lightened their torches. He would come back and, together, they would see that all of their fires were kindled with the new light, their carefully selected logs on the top. They would make a parade – of sorts – taking the New Year's with them, and going through the rooms, allowing the fresh feelings of spring to come along.

They'd not only serve their own logs, but also for those that they knew that appreciated it. Gaius would always tell them they were being foolish and would get in trouble, but was also happy to have them there. Some of the servants and of the older folk would also be visited, a smile and a blessing for each of them – so if Gwaine used each and every mistletoe to gain himself kisses from pretty girls and dashing lads alike, no one complained, not on that day, but rather enjoyed and praised.

And, since it was well-known that having a yule log and lightning it with the first fire would increase protection, the procession always ended in the King's doors, everyone silently waiting while Merlin slipped inside and ended the fire only to light it again. They knew Arthur would probably be angry if he knew it – superstition, he called it – but it was done with the best of intents.

It was only natural that in such a night, Merlin would choose to sleep in the arms of his beloved. Many people would think that he wanted Arthur, that he lived for him. Others would conclude that since they were so close, it was Sir Gwaine that held his heart. The truth was no secret, but it was also known by few – they were private people, after all, both of them.

But as they shared stories in Elyan's bedroom, Merlin had spent the long dark hours passing his hands through Percival's short cropped hair (it felt so good against his palms), drinking the heat of the head in his lap, snuggling closer to the arms that would always keep him safe.

As they got to the knights bedroom after the long walk through the castle, Merlin took a moment just to drink in the scene, to commit to memory how the flames made Percival's arms shine, how his muscles moved as he removed his clothing. Percival smiled – sweet, soft, caring – and Merlin knew his heart had found the perfect match for him.

It was almost natural – as much as it can be when you are gangly, shy and awkward – to take out his clothes and step into Percival's warm embrace. He didn't need to think as he felt their skin rubbing against each other, the warm breath on his ear, and the sense that someone towered over him (which was so rare, he had grown quite tall after all).

He allowed the knight to guide him to bed without a word, and lay on his back in the midst of long, lazy kisses, that were drenched in a secret kind of sensuality that was their own. As Percival used his leg to caress his own, bringing them even closer together, Merlin allowed himself to moan. He could feel the grin on the other man's face, even as he pulled the servant's arms up and held them above their heads.

Merlin loved to feel that he didn't need to care about anything, that he could just lay there and trust – he was safe, he was loved, he was ihis/i. As Percival grinded him, biting his ear, he sighed in pleasure. There was nothing he loved more than to feel the weight of the knight above him – ironically enough, it allowed Merlin to forget the huge weight of his destiny – as he was pinned to the bed.

He let out a small laugh when Percival used his handkerchief to keep his eyes closed, letting his hands free for a few moments. It was good – he used the advantage to touch as much of his lover as he could find, groping blindly, loving the feeling of the strong muscles under his fingers. He clanged to the knight as they kissed once again.

It didn't take long for his hands to be up again, safe in the hold of Percival's. Merlin didn't complain, even if he used his legs to hold the other man against him, wanting more and knowing that he didn't need words to be understood. They knew each other well enough, and Percival was always attentive – always silently noting every single reaction that he got. He felt that he was burning inside as Percival started to ease him, his hand wet and cold from the oil they'd use, opening space for him. He hissed and moaned, and moved against the hand, which always made the knight chuckle and hold him firmer.

He didn't need to see – he didn't need to move. In there, he could just wait and hope, for the best would always happen, in the form of Percival's body slowly gaining entrance into his. All his senses seemed stronger, and he could ifeel/i everything – every inch of damp skin moving against his own, every taste lingering in the depths of their swollen mouths as they kissed non-stop, every fragrance in the room from the cackling fire to the smell of their bodies as they gasped and moaned in release.

Right here, right now, he knew it all – and that was enough.

Yule night was a night of peace and love, a moment of birth of new promises and blessings. While they shared stories, walked together, laid with their lovers, they knew they were much more than what others would normally see. They belonged with one another, in unquestionable friendship, unspoken love and complete trust.

They shared a bond that could never be broken, not even by the most untiring enemy of all – for destiny had spoken, and even time as to bow to it. So as the yule fire burned through the night, they slept peacefully, in the knowledge that whatever lay ahead, they wouldn't ever have to face it alone.