To Heart and Home

This little plot bunny hit me a few days ago, so I had to get it down. I figured I'd share it with you guys, but bear with me, this is my first oneshot.

And for those of you reading Of Enemies and Allies: no worries, I will be updating sometime tomorrow. But in the meantime, I hope you enjoy this.

THH is set after season 4, in the three years before season 5.


"Just know you're not alone
'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home."

"Home" -Phillip Phillips


Arthur rushed down the courtyard steps, his head bent low beneath the heavy woolen hood in an attempt to keep the swirling snow from his face. It was just past dawn, though you wouldn't know it from looking at the sky. The sun was lost beneath a thick blanket of clouds and heavily falling snow. It was cold, unbearably windy, and the snow made it impossible to see.

Not even the castle staff would be caught outside in this weather. The castle was already covered in a thick layer of white, and the unrelenting clouds promised many more inches to come.

Arthur would have liked nothing better than to stay in his nice, warm, comfortable chambers, snuggled under the covers with Guinevere. But his manservant had other ideas.

Two days ago, Merlin had received a letter from one of the villagers of Ealdor, telling him that his mother—Hunith—was sick. Apparently, the entire village had a bad outbreak of a virus, which was spreading rapidly in the cold weather. Knowing that Merlin lived with the Court Physician, the writer of the letter had requested that Gaius come to treat the spreading illness.

Now a week from the Yule celebrations, Camelot was trapped inside by the wintry storm. It would be impossible for someone as old as Gaius to make the trip over Camelot's borders into Essetir.

Which was why, this morning, Arthur had not been woken up by Merlin.

After it was confirmed that the weather would be too much for Gaius, Merlin had announced that he would be making the trip. He had asked Arthur for the time off, yesterday. The king had refused, at first. He did not want Merlin traveling in weather that even hardened knights would find difficult. His manservant was practically skin and bones as it was, he didn't need to be throwing himself into a journey that would only lead to his death.

But Merlin was persistent. He claimed that he would quit and leave Camelot, if it came down to it; he needed to be there for his mother. Besides, he was the best candidate. Living with the Court Physician had given him all necessary knowledge to treat the people of Ealdor. And, if it came down to it, the secret warlock could always use magic.

The king was reluctant to admit it, but he had noticed his friend's growing skill in the physician's field, on their hunting trips and patrols. Arthur finally gave in—quite awkwardly and to the slight embarrassment of the royal—after all his concerns had been voiced. He gave Merlin three weeks off, promising to come after him if he hadn't returned in that time. He also pulled the promise from Merlin to write, by way of bird, once the storm had let up.

His clumsy manservant had thanked him, giving the king his wide, signature grin before leaving to finish his chores.

He did not, however, tell Arthur that he would be leaving the next day.

That piece of information, the king would find out through Guinevere's maidservant.

He sent a silent thanks to the gods for his wife's internal clock. The habit of rising early with the rest of the servants could not be completely erased from her life, even after a few years of being queen. So, when the young king had been woken by the maidservant's high voice, telling Gwen that George would be the one to wake the king, and that Merlin was getting ready to depart, Arthur was quite irritated. Not only because he forced himself to get up early, but also because he was doing it for his fool of a manservant, who hadn't bothered to say goodbye. A voice in the back of his mind also whispered that Merlin may never return, and the last thing the king had said to his friend was something about washing his laundry. But he quickly shook off the thought. Merlin would return; he always did.

But, Arthur did not want their parting conversation to be about his dirty socks. At least, that was what he told himself was the only reason, in order to venture out into the freezing temperatures of the courtyard.

As he approached the location where he knew the stables to be, Arthur was able to see a candlelit outline of the double doors. He hastened his steps, picking his feet up as his ankles sunk into the white powder; the crunching of snow lost in the loud wind.

It was this same wind that fought against the king as he pulled at the door. He grumbled under his breath. With another great tug, Arthur succeeded it opening the door. He quickly pulled it back in place, careful not to let it slam shut and disturb the horses.

Arthur shook the snow from his cloak, pushing back the hood. He looked around the deserted stables, the low candlelight casting shadows on the sleeping horses. The young king walked to his right, through a few archways that divided the sections of stalls. He followed the familiar path to where his horses where stabled, knowing that was where Merlin's horse, Lottie, was as well. He approached those stalls slowly, not quite ready to announce his presence.

He spotted his servant, dressed in his usual leather jacket and neckerchief—and a few shirts, if the bulky appearance of his chest was anything to go by—and talking to his horse. Such a girl, Arthur thought with a smile.

"…at's a good girl, Lottie." Merlin murmured to the mare, his back to Arthur's location. He grabbed the last bag from the floor, tying it onto the saddle. "Now we're all ready. You can handle a little storm, can't you, girl?" The secret warlock grabbed Lottie's bridle and brushed a hand lovingly down her forehead.

The horse snorted, blowing Merlin's hair back and pushing her snout into his face.

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad outside." He laughed.

Lottie stomped her front foot on the dirt floor and shook her head.

"You're overreacting, it's only a little snow." He ran his hand down the side of the horse's neck, "Don't tell me you're scared of that?"

The mare whinnied, swinging her head playfully into Merlin's chest.

"Ok, ok. I'm sorry I insulted your character."

Arthur watched the scene with amusement. He hoped that by now his friend knew that the horse really couldn't understand what he was saying.

"Now, it's time to go. Don't worry, it'll only be a few weeks; we'll be home before you know it."

Arthur's heart warmed at the comment. Merlin was leaving for his birthplace, but had called Camelot his home. He remembered asking his friend why he'd left Ealdor, a long time ago, when they had gone to the small town in order to fend off Kanen and his men.

"Why'd you leave?"

"Things just… changed."

"How? Come on, stop pretending to be interesting. Tell me."

"I just didn't fit in anymore. I wanted to find somewhere that I did."

"Had any luck?"

"I'm not sure yet."

Arthur hoped that that word—home—meant that Merlin had finally found his place. That he had found where he fit in—in Camelot.

His mind returned to the present as he watched Merlin grab Lottie's reins, reading her to leave the stall. He let out a cough, and Merlin froze.

The warlock turned around, his eyes quickly finding Arthur, leaning against the doorframe. He smiled, "Arthur."

"Merlin."

"It's a bit early for you to be up, isn't it?"

"Yes, well, George actually knows how to be on time to wake his king," the royal tilted his head, "he doesn't laze about like you."

Merlin simply huffed in response, but both men knew the truth.

Arthur would in fact still be sleeping, regardless of which servant tended to him. It was barely dawn and the only people scurrying about the castle at this time were the servants, and the guards on duty.

"Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it."

"Oh, yes, I'll be eagerly waiting for your return. I love having partially clean chambers." The sarcastic tone fighting for dominance with the king's jovial, and yet slightly concerned gaze.

"Be honest, you'll miss me. Your life is too quiet without me."

"Miss the incessant chatter and disrespectful attitude?—of course; whatever you say, Merlin."

The warlock's infectious grin caused Arthur to smile. They stood in silence for a moment, memorizing the way the other looked, and thinking of the three weeks they'd be apart. The king was reminded of the brass-loving servant he'd have to deal with while Merlin was away, and the smile quickly dropped off his face.

Lottie stomped her foot.

"Well, I guess I'd better be going." Merlin patted the mare's head.

Arthur hummed, backing out of the arch as his servant lead his horse down the hall.

When they reached the entrance, the king held out his hand. Merlin stared at it a moment before reaching forward, grasping his friend's arm in a bond of brotherhood.

"Good luck. Guinevere asked me to give you this. It's a letter for your mother—she sends her love." Arthur reached inside his cloak, pulling out a folded piece of paper with the Pendragon seal. He smiled at the thought of Hunith and her tough, but kind spirit. His wife was a close friend to Merlin's mother, after she took her in during her exile.

"Thank you, Sire. I'm sure she'll appreciate it." With one last smile he turned to go, pulling Lottie with him. As he approached the door, Merlin shivered at the draft blowing through the gap between the doors.

Arthur frowned at the movement. He looked down at his own, thick, insulated cloak.

"Merlin." The servant turned, his vision suddenly going dark as a large piece of fabric landed on his head. He let out an indignant huff before pulling the offending cloth from his face.

He studied it. It was a simple gray cloak, made of warm wool.

"What—" He stared at Arthur in confusion before realizing that the king now stood behind him, without a cloak.

"Keep it, for the journey. I don't need you freezing to death in the middle of the forest." He joked, but his mind quickly played the image of Merlin shivering, frozen by the Dorocha.

"Arthur, I can't—"

"You can." He stated firmly.

They stared at each other for a moment. Eventually Merlin let out a sigh, accepting that he had lost the argument. He pulled the cloak over his shoulders, clasping it firmly at the base of his neck.

"Thank you."

Arthur nodded. "Now go on. And stay out of trouble, Merlin."

A wide grin lit up his face, "Of course, Sire."

The warlock winked and pulled up the hood.

Arthur stayed in the doorway, watching Merlin as he mounted Lottie and pushed her into a trot. He had a strange sense of foreboding at the thought of the next three weeks. Somehow, he knew it would be much longer than that until he saw his friend again.

"Safe travels, old friend." He whispered as his lean manservant disappeared from the courtyard.


AN:

So, what'd you think?

I have ideas for a possible chapter 2, but I am undecided on whether to continue, or just leave it. I guess it depends on you guys—so let me know! Reviews are always appreciated :)

In case you were wondering, the italicized quote is from The Moment of Truth (1x10).

Until next time,

Mirror