Yule Never Walk Alone, a merlin fanfic

And it is time for the annual Christmas fic! This year I'm writing for all of you in the Merlin fandom, so I'll leave you to your reading.

Also, I am very sorry for the pun. I was brainstorming titles with my beta and he was determined to have some sort of pun so here we are with Yule Never Walk Alone instead of the original title You'll Never Walk Alone.

This isn't set in any particular season, but Arthur is still a prince and Morgana hasn't turned evil yet.

Something which Merlin had never appreciated before uprooting his entire life and moving to Camelot, is how cold castles are. This wasn't limited to Camelot either; as Arthur's loyal servant (read as general dogsbody), Merlin had been dragged to several castles across the kingdoms in the past few years and each one was just as cold as the others. Merlin's point was that while he appreciated having his own room, it did mean he was far away from the fire Gaius slept next to, and in the winter, it was freezing.

He sat up, tugging the thin bed sheet closer around his shoulders and willed the shivers to stop. The window was tightly shut, but he could feel the waves of cold gliding towards him from the glass, seeping the last remnants of heat away into the night air beyond.

With the sheet acting as a makeshift cape, Merlin scrambled off the bed and over to the offending window, watching his breath mist over the pane. In the distance the first glimmers of dawn were dancing across the horizon, sneaking into the midnight blue of the night above. Little lights flickered in the lower town where the market stalls were already being set up. Merlin rested his chin in his hands, blinking lazily in the dim light as he observed the town below. There was no point in trying to rest now; in less than an hour he would have to get up and besides, it was far too cold to sleep.

He made it down the stairs and across the rest of Gaius' chambers without falling flat on his face for once, only tripping over his undone laces twice which he counted as a success. With a single flash of gold eyes, Gaius' blanket tugged itself higher up over the older man's shoulders, and the flames in the hearth leapt higher, casting their merry glow across the tiles and Merlin was on his way.

It was strange being in the castle without Arthur. Maybe it was because he had been Arthur's manservant for all but a few days of the entire time he'd lived in Camelot. Merlin cast a mournful look at the Prince's door on the way down to the kitchens. He was not sulking, but he had to admit that without Arthur's presence he felt strangely lost, especially given that they hadn't been on the best of terms upon the prince's departure. Merlin shook the thoughts of dark looks and angry words from his mind and stepped into the warmth of the kitchens, plastering a wide smile on his face. The Head Cook, Mary, bustled over to him with open arms, dragging him to a tight hug and planting a kiss to his forehead.

"Merlin! You're helping us down here again, are you?"

Merlin revelled in the affection for a moment longer, the cloth of her dress scratching against his cheek, and the familiar scent of freshly baked bread and flour greeting his nose. "Arthur's still away for the anniversary of the peace treaty," he explained, tugging away from Mary's embrace with a pang of loneliness. "So, I'm all yours."

Mary's eyes lit up with a sense of mischievous glee. Merlin suspected that he was about to regret his last statement as she grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the nearest table. "Well, first off you're getting some food inside. Look at you, boy, you're all skin and bones! Does that Prince of yours ever stop and feed you?"

Merlin didn't get a chance to respond as she was off, retrieving a plate and disappearing to the other side of the kitchen. He sank onto the chair, fighting back a yawn. The kitchens were so busy, even this early in the morning, and he knew all too well that the staff wouldn't get a break until late into the night, something which he himself was familiar with. He was so caught up in his thoughts (wondering how Arthur was, and whether he'd got himself into any trouble yet) that he didn't notice Gwen's presence until the young maid touched his shoulder with a gentle smile.

"Morning Merlin."

Merlin startled, flailing his arms wildly and forcing back down the surge of magic that automatically rose to his defence. Gwen watched him with a vague degree of amusement, crossing her arms protectively across the bundle of washing she was nursing. "Are you alright?"

Merlin shot her a betrayed look. "Oh, I'm fine. My pride on the other hand…" Gwen let out a light laugh, before dropping her gaze to the washing. He sat up straight, tilting his head to the side as he observed his friend. Gwen's usual brightness was missing, the upbeat enthusiasm for her work gone from her eyes accompanied by dark circles and a paler pallor to her skin that usual. "Are you alright?"

Gwen pressed her hand to her forehead, shooting him a weak smile. "I'm just tired, Merlin." Her shoulders slumped at the confession. "Morgana had another nightmare last night, and I didn't want to leave her, but…" She stared into the bundle of clothing as though it held the answers she sought so desperately. "Well, even with Arthur away, Yule is tomorrow, and I wanted to be able to spend it with my father and Elyan but there's too much still to do here, and I can't lose this job."

Merlin stood up and wrapped his arms around her. Gwen practically fell into the offered embrace, sniffing as she attempted to fight back the tears that threatened to overspill. Her shoulders trembled, curly locks escaping the tie that held them back as she clutched her friend, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt as she clung onto him.

"Sorry," she whispered, her voice almost lost in the chaos of the kitchen. "I'm sorry…"

"Hey, Gwen, no." Merlin tilted her chin up with two fingers so that he could meet her gaze. Her caramel eyes were glistening with tears, but her trademark determination was still there. "I'll take over your duties for the rest of the day." He knew well enough not to give her the option as to accept or not; Gwen was nothing if not selfless and would never agree unless Merlin made it quite clear that she had to.

"Are you sure?"

Merlin grinned at her. "Sure. Morgana's given you today and tomorrow off now, so all that's left are your jobs around the rest of the castle." He lowered his voice to a mischievous whisper. "I think I might be able to manage finding my way around. Just about."

Gwen swatted his arm playfully. "Oh, stop it." It was a well-known fact amongst the palace staff that Merlin could probably navigate the castle with his eyes shut if there was a need for it. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

"I think we both know that you're the last person who could ever impose on anyone." Merlin relented, placing a hand on Gwen's shoulder so that she was forced to look at him. "Gwen, honestly, it's fine. If anything, it'd be nice to have something to keep me busy until Arthur gets back."

"Are you still upset that he left you behind?"

Merlin's hand flew off her shoulder. "What? No!" He cried indignantly, shuffling his feet. Gwen's piercing gaze remained on him. "Maybe," he admitted after a second. "Is that so bad? I try my best but it's never good enough for his royal pratness."

"Merlin," Mary's voice came from behind him, low in warning. "I know that the pair of you have a less than professional or usual working relationship, but Arthur is still our Crown Prince. You should speak about him with a little more respect." She set a plate of bread and seasonal fruit down in front of him. "Eat."

"Yes, maam," Merlin retorted. "He's still a prat," he stage-whispered to Gwen on the side. "So, it's agreed? You head on home and I'll carry out your duties for the day."

Gwen gave him a nervous nod, blushing slightly. "Thank you so much, Merlin, truly, I can't tell you how grateful I am…"

"Alright, he gets it, now hurry along. Seems like the lad's got a busy day ahead of him."

With a final murmur of gratitude Gwen fled from the kitchen, returning her apron to a hook on her way out. Merlin wolfed down the rest of his food, scooping up the heap of clothes on his way up the staircase. With Arthur out the way, he fully intended to make use of the prince's chambers while carrying out chores such as washing; Arthur's room was so much warmer, and the fires were lit in there even when Arthur was away.

Several hours later, with his muscles aching and hands rubbed raw from both washing and drying the clothes and then proceeding to help clean the other areas of the castle, Merlin limped back to Gaius' chambers. He couldn't help but feel a sense of bone-deep exhaustion, and the dull pain in his throat whenever he swallowed suggested that he was coming down with something. Blinking the blurriness from his vision, he raised a brow at seeing Gaius hovering about the middle of the room.

"Waiting for someone?" He quipped.

Gaius clapped his hands together. "Ah, Merlin, there you are. I was wondering if I would have to send a search party for you!"

Merlin blinked. "I was…working?" He shook his head, sinking onto the floor in front of the fire and holding his hands as close to the flames as he dared. Gaius' burn salve worked wonders, but he was by no means a fan of the stench that accompanied it.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"That's never a good thing. What life-threatening monster is about to attack Camelot now?" Merlin propped himself up with one elbow, legs sprawled across the floor hazardously. "Wait," horror flooded over him at the sudden thought, catching in his throat, heart pounding faster. "Is it Arthur?"

"No, it's not Arthur," Gaius cut him off, evidently trying his best to keep an age-old exasperation off his face but failing miserably at it. Merlin felt marginally better when he caught sight of the warm affection that still gleamed in his mentor's eyes; nothing could be that bad if Gaius was still happy to see him. "There's the Lords' Feast tomorrow, as I'm sure you know."

"To celebrate Yule, right?" Merlin lolled on his back, grimacing as cold seeped through his shirt and struck needles into his skin. "Yeah, Uther ordered the entire Great Hall to be cleaned." He lifted one hand, wincing at the state of his red knuckles, pinpricks of blood seeping to the surface. "It was so fun."

"You should put some ointment on that," Gaius commented, his robes swaying about his feet as he hunted down the bottle in question. Merlin dropped his hand back onto his chest, yawning, his eyelids suspiciously heavy. "I've been invited to the feast."

"Well that's great." Merlin rolled onto his front, fixing Gaius with an excited grin. "Isn't that a massive honour or something?"

"Yes," the elderly physician agreed, choosing his next words delicately. "But Merlin, the feast is tomorrow. And…you are a manservant."

"So? You can go, and it'll be…oh. Oh." Realisation came crashing down heavier than one of the maces Arthur practised with. Merlin sat up, unable to keep the hurt from his face, but quick to school his features into a brighter expression when he noticed Gaius watching him closely. "You won't be here for Yule."

"I'm afraid not."

"Right. That's fine."

"Merlin…"

"It's a massive honour Gaius, you have to go. I mean, sure, you are the Court Physician, so this isn't that unusual, but my point still stands."

"You'll be alone," Gaius noted.

Merlin barely hid his flinch. "Don't worry about me."

Gaius settled down on his bench, patting the space next to him in a beckon for Merlin to come and sit. The young warlock obeyed, resting his hands in his lap and ducking his head to avoid his mentor's searching look. "Oh, my boy," Gaius finally spoke, his voice brimming with both wisdom and sadness. "You must know by now that I always worry about you." He rested a hand gently on his ward's upper back, letting Merlin lean towards him. "Are you sure? I'd be happy to decline if you'd prefer it. We could spend Yule here, just the two of us. I could make your favourite."

Merlin began to make a joke about Gaius' cooking abilities but snapped his mouth shut before he could finish. "I'm sure," he confirmed, his voice unusually serious. "Go and have fun, Gaius. I mean it. Yule is only one day a year, I'm certain I can survive."

"With you, I'm not so sure," Gaius chuckled at the indignant look he received. "Thank you, Merlin."

Merlin watched Gaius leave before he retreated to his room, proverbial tail between his legs, collapsing onto his bed and pressing his face to his pillow with a silent scream. He could recall Yule back in Ealdor, everyone gathering in one big group, firelight dancing across the crowd, music beating a rhythm to joyous laughter and the happy shrieks of playing children. His mother's warm hug, Will's teasing yet affectionate jokes, the rest of the villagers filling the streets beneath the beaming starlit skies above and the scents of spices filling the air.

Merlin pressed his face closer to the pillow, unable to fight the wave of crushing loneliness at the memories. Everything felt cold and his entire body ached. Hot tears scorched their ways down his cheeks unbidden and he lifted a hand to his face gingerly, wiping at the droplets gathered on his lashes.

"Stop," he whispered venomously, glaring down at his shaking hands. "Please stop." He threw a glance to the window, where it was already dark. He was done with both his own and Gwen's jobs for the day which left him with nothing except his own thoughts. Glittering gold flickered across his irises in accompaniment of the soft blue glow that lit his palms. Using his magic felt like a warm blanket draping across him; comforting and familiar. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Alright." He murmured up at the window. "I'm alright."

Twenty-four hours later it transpired that he was, in fact, not all right. He'd been forced to work since before even a gleam of dawn had struck the skies above Camelot, preparing for the feast and scrubbing Arthur's chambers from top to bottom in expectation of the prince's return within the next few days (neither Uther nor Morgana seemed concerned by the fact that Arthur wouldn't be spending Yule with them; it seemed as though Merlin missed him more than his blood relatives did). Then, in typical Merlin fashion, he had tripped and fallen in front of the king and had been chewed out by Uther for a solid half hour until he had been allowed to flee, the vicious insults still ringing in his ears. Which, you know, he wouldn't have minded so much if it weren't for the fact that they were the exact faults he already suspected about himself.

The feast was expected to continue long into the night (and with the amount of alcohol that had been carried up from the cellars, Merlin had no doubt that it would) which left Merlin to crawl back to Gaius' chambers by himself, as any possibilities of him being allowed to serve and help at the feast had crashed and burnt as soon as he'd fallen in front of Uther. He stood in the centre of the room, swamped in darkness, breathing heavily. There was a suspicious burning sensation behind his eyes that signified oncoming tears and he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms painfully until scarlet welled up beneath the onslaught.

Part of him was desperate to just curl up in his bed and try to clear his mind of the poisonous thoughts that were plaguing him. But, as he observed the chambers, there were still a few tasks left on his agenda. Whilst he didn't know what time Gaius would return, he was certain that the physician wouldn't want to retire to a cold and untidy room. He sighed, ancient words slipping from his lips and gold flashing about his eyes. His magic danced from his touch, warm and delighted to be free, comforting him in a way that he didn't realise it could. The fire leapt into life and books and bottles tidied themselves away neatly on shelves. Merlin surveyed his work before turning on his heels, the lump in his throat making the idea of eating fill him with nausea despite the pit in his stomach as he retreated to his room.

Lying in the darkness, his other senses were heightened. All he could hear was the distant sounds from the rest of the castle, and the echoing laughter and chattering that drifted up from the lower town. Merlin screwed his eyes shut, scarcely able to breathe through the overwhelming loneliness. He knew logically that this wasn't Gaius' fault, but wasn't there a pattern here? Everyone kept leaving him. Arthur had voluntarily left him behind and had yelled at him when Merlin had tried to persuade the prince to let him tag along. Was he that bad a manservant? More importantly, did Arthur truly not care about him at all? He didn't know which was worse.

He took a gasping breath, heartbeat throbbing in his ears, burning tears coursing down his cheeks to splash against his trembling hands and the sheet tangled about him. He clasped his hands to his mouth in an attempt to quieten his cries, before the voice in the back of his head reminded him that there was no-one else there and no-one to care which just forced free another broken sob, his shoulders heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

He must have drifted into a light slumber at some point, because he awoke suddenly, not quite sure why. His cheeks were still wet with tears and he had no idea what time it was, only that someone was standing at the foot of his bed. Merlin flung himself off the mattress, his foot catching in the sheets so that he plummeted to the floor, catching himself only just in time. Yet something stopped him from lashing out instinctively with his magic; the presence was familiar and radiated a sense of safety rather than danger. Merlin lowered his hands, blinking into the darkness.

"Are you done?" A familiar voice asked, dripping with sarcasm but with a slight undertone of both amusement and pity.

"Arthur?"

"The one and only."

Merlin gave a breathless laugh. "I thought you weren't due back until Thursday?"

"Yes, well, here I am." Arthur's shoulders drooped, his voice dull as he admitted, "I didn't want to spend Yule in a foreign kingdom. But my father isn't concerned that I'm back and neither is Morgana although that isn't a surprise, they're both too busy with the feast. And when I learnt that Gaius was there too, but the other servants informed me that you weren't…well. Here I am."

Merlin shook his head, dropping onto the edge of his bed. "What do you want, Arthur?" He murmured tiredly. "I'm not making any trouble, if you wanted someone to pick a fight with why couldn't you have asked one of your knights to spar? I'm just…I'm tired. I can't do this right now."

Arthur was very quiet for a moment. This in itself was so un-Arthur-like that Merlin raised his head in curiosity. The prince was standing ramrod straight in the doorway, but there was a tension to his shoulders that betrayed his emotions.

"I didn't come here to upset you," he finally spoke. "I came here because…I didn't want to be alone. My father…he doesn't like spending Yule with me all that much. Probably because I remind him of my mother." There was a bitter laugh. "All the same, I think you should know that I regret saying all those things to you before I left."

Merlin shrugged. "S'alright."

"No, Merlin, it's not. I thought you would spend this time with Gaius, or maybe visit your mother. I didn't think you would end up by yourself, in fact that's exactly what I was trying to avoid. But all that time when I was surrounded by people during the trip, I felt like I was completely alone. It felt strange not having you there. So, I'm sorry for the way I treated you and I'm sorry that you had to spend today alone." He took a deep breath. "There. Now I sound like an idiot."

For a beat, there was a heavy silence. The air was so thick with tension that it seemed palpable. Merlin stared at Arthur incredulously with wide eyes. "You're not such a prat after all, are you?"

Arthur shifted from one foot to the other. "This stays between us," he warned, but there was a warmth to his voice that hadn't been there previously. He awkwardly held out one hand. "Come on."

"What?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Merlin."

"Oh, I take it back now, you are a prat."

Arthur rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. "Merlin." Merlin gave him an amused look but accepted the hand up, tugging on his boots as he trotted after the prince down the stairs.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Merlin grumbled something uncomplimentary under his breath and earnt a light cuff round the head as a response. He was just on the brink of stopping in his tracks and demanding to know where Arthur was leading him (which was a bit pointless given he knew that he would follow Arthur to the ends of the earth and back) when the blond abruptly started climbing one of the spiral staircases that Merlin recognised as leading to one of the turrets. He bit back any further questions and started the climb behind Arthur, the burn in the muscles dragging his thoughts away from the ache in his chest.

"Don't…be you about this."

"What does that mean?"

Arthur threw his hands in the air in exasperation, still standing in front of the door to block Merlin's view. The manservant in question was trying his best not to fall backwards down the stairs. "You have weird reactions to things!"

"I do not."

Arthur raised a brow. "Sure."

Still indignant, Merlin shoved past him and stepped out in the still night air. The star-studded sky above was breath-taking, lit only by a thin slither of moon rising above the trees. The lower town stood like a beacon of light, surrounded by the fields that broke off into farmland and scattered houses that lay on the outskirts of Camelot, laying a map to the landscape. All of this did not capture Merlin's attention; what did, however, was the basket of food carefully positioned against the wall, with a literal mountain of blankets and several candles positioned to provide them light, but not so close that Merlin's clumsiness and gangly limbs would cause a fire (at least Arthur hoped so).

"This was a mistake."

"What? No!" Merlin spun around on the spot, unable to stop the genuine grin spreading across his face. "Arthur, this is…thank you."

Arthur shuffled awkwardly on the spot. "Yeah. You're welcome. I... uh…" He dropped his gaze to the floor, uncharacteristically unsure of himself as though the slightest wrong move could drive Merlin away. He fiddled with the edge of his shirt, nervousness evident in the flush creeping up his neck.

Merlin observed him silently for a moment, unable to fight the wave of pure affection that welled up at the sight of his friend. This was what made Arthur so…well, Arthur. He opened his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by the loud growl from his stomach.

Arthur stared at him for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching with a smile. "Did you eat at all today?"

"Actually, no."

"That's not healthy."

"I didn't have chance!" Merlin protested, and Arthur's gaze darkened.

"Sorry. I should have taken you with me."

Merlin didn't reply, instead opting to fling himself face first into the pile of blankets, burrowing into the warmth still captured within their grasp, and the scent of spices from the drying room that reminded him so tangibly of Yule-time at Ealdor that he almost started crying again. A hand landed on his upper-back, resting between his shoulder-blades as he continued to practically cocoon himself within the blanket nest.

"Come on, you clotpole."

Merlin stuck his head out from the blankets. "That's my insult."

"Yes, and I'm stealing it."

"You can't do that."

"I'm the Prince, I do what I want."

"That's a very problematic mindset."

Arthur shot him a teasing look. "Those are big words, I'm proud of you."

"You're proud?" Merlin clutched a hand to his chest in mock-shock. "I'm so honoured, sire." He tilted to the side, snickering, only to be met with a bread roll to the head. He snatched the food up from his lap (it was still hot and sweet and light) and took a bite, frowning at his companion as he did so. "Did you throw bread at my head?"

Arthur clawed one of the blankets away from Merlin, revelling in the warmth. "Maybe." He leant forwards and stabbed a sausage with one of the forks available. "Eat up, we've got all this to get through." He couldn't help but feel a wave of sorrow at the genuine shock in Merlin's eyes at the offer. Arthur was many things, but he wasn't a complete idiot; he noticed how skinny his manservant was and, despite public belief, he did care. He couldn't be seen to be buying the boy food, so instead he ordered more than was necessary and demanded that Merlin finished it off. Yet another reason why he should have had Merlin come with him to the peace treaty celebrations, he thought, with a flood of anger at himself.

Whether it was a conscious decision or a subconscious desire for warmth, Merlin ended up curled up against Arthur's side, the blankets tucked around the pair. Arthur wasn't about to move away; he felt a bit like when an animal sits down on you and it seems like such a sacred act of trust that only a monster would disturb them. That put the idea of Merlin as some sort of animal into his head and he started laughing.

Merlin glanced up at him through ruffled raven hair. "What?"

"You're a cat."

"Okay?"

"Yes. Although you're too clumsy for a cat."

Merlin, evidently too tired to think of an appropriate response to this insult, slumped further to the left, dropping his head onto Arthur's shoulder with a loud yawn. "Thanks for tonight, really, Arthur." He tapped an unknown rhythm against his knee, which Arthur presumed was some sort of folk song from Ealdor. The prince glanced down at his manservant, overcome by a wave of emotion for the younger man, his genuine friend. Merlin was something different who he had never anticipated entering his life, and he found his mind caught on a memory of angry words and flashes of hurt and pure anger in blue eyes, because Arthur wasn't used to having someone genuinely want to be his friend without ulterior motives before and didn't quite know how to deal with that. And, he had to admit, it was nice. This was probably the best Yule night he'd had in a long while. But because he was Arthur and didn't know how to deal with emotions, he awkwardly cleared his throat and held the waterskin aloft as a distraction.

"Don't tell my father, but I took it from his private collection."

Merlin raised a brow. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Oh please," Arthur scoffed. "You're a walking disaster on an ordinary day, I'd hate to see what you're like when you're not in control." He met Merlin's gaze, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Having said that…"

"Give it here," Merlin made a grab for the waterskin, laughing as he spoke. The wine was still hot and heavily spiced, warming him from his head to his toes, fingertips tingling the more he drunk. He blinked, eyes watering dangerously, spluttering into his sleeve. Arthur's surprised bark of laughter echoed through the air, breaking into genuine chuckles before he clapped a hand to Merlin's back.

"And time to breathe."

Merlin rubbed at his eyes, glaring at Arthur. "As if you could cope any better."

"Challenge accepted." Arthur beckoned for the waterskin. "Watch and learn." He tipped it back, drinking greedily before slamming it down on the stone floor by his boots. As soon as he had done so, the spices combined with the alcohol finally hit him and he took a shuddering breath, trying not to cough.

"Yes, because that was so much better."

Arthur pointed a finger dangerously close to Merlin's face, so close that it brushed the tip of his nose. "Not another word."

Merlin went cross-eyed trying to look at the finger. "Is there any left?"

There was a pause. Then, with a wicked laugh, Arthur held the waterskin aloft. "Another!"

It only took another hour before the warm buzz of alcohol had overtaken most of Merlin's senses. He slipped down the wall further, landing heavily against Arthur's side. The prince tangled a hand in his hair and Merlin pressed his head further into the gentle touch, finally winding up sprawled across the floor, blankets tangled across his lower body and his head in Arthur's lap. It was a testimony to Arthur's obviously less-than-sober state that he didn't react, instead petting Merlin's hair lazily, a lopsided smile fixed on his features.

"This was fun."

"Do it again next year?"

"Only if you promise not to leave me behind again."

Arthur snickered, tilting his head back until he knocked it against the cold stone behind. "Did you miss me that much Merlin?"

Merlin considered this very seriously, licking his lips to taste the remnants of the wine. "Yes," he concluded.

Arthur blinked, shock dawning on him. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Oh." He hummed. "That's unusual. You're a very unusual person, Merlin."

Merlin turned his head to be able to watch the stars skimming the clouds above. "Thanks?"

"It's a good thing. I like it. And you. And my knights."

"How much wine did you have?"

"More than you."

"I can tell."

Arthur snorted. "My father is going to be mad."

"So is Gaius."

They fell into a companionable silence. Arthur craned his neck back again to be able to glimpse the stars that Merlin appeared so captivated by. The clouds were gathering across the horizon, thick and plentiful, lit by a deep amber glow from the many candles lining the streets of the celebrating lower town and out-skirting villages. He yawned, patting at his knees until he found Merlin's hair again. "Look. It's going to snow soon."

Merlin mumbled something unintelligible into Arthur's knee before lifting his chin to make eye contact, his words carefully spoken to avoid the tipsy slur present previously. "If you throw snow down my shirt again, I'm going to quit."

Arthur widened his eyes in mock-horror. "You? Never."

"Camelot would probably fall if I did."

"I doubt it."

"You couldn't last a week without me."

"The last trip speaks otherwise."

"Arthur, you came home early after three days."

"Yes, well…" Arthur sniffed, pointedly looking away. There was a part of him that hoped his words would be snatched away by the winter wind, but there was no such luck and Merlin's hearing was as sharp as ever. "I missed you and it's Yule time."

Merlin lifted a hand and patted his shoulder, a warm smile directed up at him. "Thanks, Arthur."

A chorus of music drifted towards them from the Castle below, signalling that midnight was fast approaching. Arthur remained where he was, perfectly still, until Merlin stirred again, barely holding onto snatches of awareness as he fought against the welcoming abyss of sleep.

"Happy Yule, clotpole."

Arthur huffed a small laugh at the familiar insult. Only Merlin could turn a slander into something warm and affectionate.

"Happy Yule, my friend."

Happy Christmas everyone!

Review? It would make a great xmas present ;)

Kat x.