Dear Arthur,
We reached swiftly and safely so you can put to rest your paranoid thoughts on magical traveling. (Just because I'm not in control of the spell does not automatically make it unsafe, you know). The Lothian is splendid! I wish you were here to see it. The castle is nestled in a valley surrounded with gorgeous rolling hills, and they have this lake on the school grounds with water almost as magical as Avalon. I met Freya's sister Nyneve too. She is a bit standoffish and treats sorcerers with coldness for some reason, but Helga assures me I should pay it no mind. She did mention Freya was her magical sister in the Circle of the Ladies, which is just a fancy name for those the Old Religion chooses to guard the gateways to the Other World from the – sorry. I'm rambling and I know you don't care for a magical history lesson.
I have yet to meet Salazar. They were not joking when they said he never leaves his dungeons. Perhaps I shall see him for dinner. (Made by tiny little elves! Can you imagine? They are the most adorable, kind, gentle beings I've seen. I think I'll ask one or two to Camelot if any of them wish to see the south.
Rowena mostly teaches the students the art of Transfiguration and complicated magicks to the older students who have more experience. Helga is more apt with charms and healing spells, of course. Almost all the students love her. She's easily the favorite tutor. Rowena can be a little stern most of the time, and Godric is – well mostly the same. He insists on maintaining a happy medium between Helga's gentleness and Rowena's strictness. From what I gather, everyone is mostly terrified of Salazar Slytherin. At this point I'm beginning to suspect they are pulling my leg. He cannot be that bad if he's on good terms with Helga. I've been employed to teach combative spells with Godric, and other times I give lessons on magical creatures. Camelot's – or your – habit of attracting dangerous creatures has proven useful finally.
How is everyone at home? Hope you are keeping well and not being too much of a prat. If you are, tell Gwaine I've given him permission to harass you into modesty in my stead. It will be a few days before you get this message, so there shouldn't be any drastic changes since I left. I'll eventually have to teach you how to Floo. It's much quicker and it won't tire out Archimedes. Be nice to him when he delivers this, will you? Don't upset him too much, you know how he gets. It'll be your fingers on the line, and a King has many documents to sign.
Give my love to Gwen and regards to the Knights.
Yours,
Merlin.
Arthur set the letter down on top of the ledgers for this coming winter's grain reserves he had been reviewing when the wretched owl hooted its way into the council chamber. He was aware of his knights' and queen's curious gaze as he read Merlin's last words over and over again.
Yours, Merlin.
"Merlin reached safely," he announced to the room at large when he realized he was taking too long to answer their unasked question.
Later, in the privacy of his own chambers, Arthur reread the letter, fingers brushing the corners of the parchment because that's where Merlin would have held the scroll down as he wrote with his brow furrowed in concentration. He sounded so excited in every quilled word that Arthur couldn't bring himself to regret letting Merlin go without more protestations.
He sat down at his table, ink pot ready and quill recently sharpened.
Merlin, he started. Paused to think about what part of Merlin's letter he should address first.
When Arthur was a boy, his tutors had taught him the proper way to send replies to other kings and ambassadors to Camelot. He knew how to write concisely, how to negotiate terms of a treaty with few simple lines of flattery and firm authority. But Merlin was neither king, nor ambassador. He was an anomaly unto himself. After much wasted time he decided to answer the only way he and Merlin knew sometimes: by trading insults.
Good to know your faith in your sorcerer friends is not in vain. I'm always kind to your bird, thank you very much. It's the wretched sparrow that is insufferable. I have been to the Lothian, although it was for a campaign long ago in the winter months so I was mostly miserable in my tent. I'm sure it is very lovely without the blanket of white slowly killing you from the inside out. Does every magical lake have a bloody lady in it? Can't they just leave the poor fish alone? Honestly, Circle of Death more like, giving a man a splendid fright when all he wants is a quick bath in the lake.
This Salazar sounds like a bit of a snob, honestly. What can be so fascinating in the dungeons? Why would you even want to meet someone who enjoys spending time in dungeons? I really worry about you sometimes Merlin.
I miss you already. We're all fine here. The kingdom doesn't really depend on you for everything. When are you coming back? And I most certainly will not tell Gwaine that. As if he isn't disrespectful enough. You're a terrible influence on him. Floo? What is Floo. Never mind, I do not want to know, nor will I learn how to use it. What's wrong with sending letters? You're already using a bloody bird instead of intelligent, human deliverers. Although, I don't think he'd appreciate me implying he's unintelligent, would he?
I don't think you've ever been gone so long from Camelot. Not even for the siege we laid on Lot's castle last year.
Lo
Sincer
Yours F
I hate writing, I've discovered. Especially to you. How am I supposed to end this letter?
From,
Arthur.
Arthur picked up his scribbled out, pathetic letter, folded it neatly in thirds and he slid it into a safe box in the very back of his closet along with the one Merlin had written. Arthur never sent it to Merlin, and Merlin never let him forget it in every letter that followed.
Arthur,
Salazar is absolutely fascinating. Although I don't think you'd like him much. His experiments are somewhat extreme at times, but he respects the gifts and blessings of nature. He studied with the Monks of Otium in the Northern Isles. It explains how he is able to remain so calm all the time, and prefers to work alone. He also has a rare fondness and affinity for snakes. An unusual creature to adore, I know, but Salazar is so beautiful with them. He calms them with one word – a single hiss, and they become tame as a rabbit.
And have I told about the castle? How the staircases move as sentient beings? And sometimes when I find myself being lost in its never ending hallways, the walls themselves show me the way to my destination. It is unlike any magic I have ever witnessed. It is as if the ground itself wants this magic, nurtures it with a tenderness of a mother looking after her newborn. This castle is alive, somehow, although I haven't the faintest how they managed it. I'll have to learn some of their tricks before I return.
You haven't replied to my last letter, but I know you received it because Archimedes himself told me. I know it must be very difficult running a kingdom without me around to keep your from all your frankly stupid ideas, but try and drop me one line telling me how the king and his people are doing, would you? Gwen and Gwaine have written to me twice already, telling me about the goings on in Camelot. Queen Elena is coming to visit, apparently? Be nice to her, and for God's sake do not let Gwaine anywhere near her. You know what he's like. Poor woman will leave Camelot running and screaming, and we shall never have her as an ally again.
Missing you,
Merlin.
Merlin,
I miss you too.
Arthur.
My Dearest Arthur,
You're a prat. A first class, world champion of the title of the most Arrogant Pompous Ninny-headed Arse. I've written you for two months now, and you still haven't sent word back to me. You and your superior attitude can shove it. I don't care anyway. I shall continue to to send you mini-novels as I have heard you've taken to referring to them (Gwaine). They aren't that long, you tit. I know how doing something remotely brain-stimulating is painful for you. I try to emulate your simple nature in my writing so you can better understand it.
Try not to start a war while I'm away. You know what that does to your waistline.
Merlin.
Merlin,
I try sending you a moderately legible letter that won't make me look like a fool. An impossible feat, apparently. You really are a terrible influence.
I like your stories of... Hogwarts, was it? I would like to see it someday. Gwen insists I actually send a letter to you. I don't think I shall, really. Just to be difficult.
I don't enjoy your silly letters, but if you insist on sending them, I suppose there's nothing I can do but read them.
Arthur.
Arthur opened Merlin's latest letter with some trepidation, always afraid that this one would be the one where Merlin told him he was going to stay up north for ever. Although he knew his lack of responses wasn't helping any, he was too stubborn and not proud enough to deny that he was a vulnerable fool.
Every letter was a punch in the gut as he read how much Merlin was enjoying himself, and how much it was bothering him that Arthur wasn't sending him letters back. He smiled at every insult Merlin wrote, reading them in his voice – and he'd scold himself for being so pathetic if Gwen hadn't been doing just that for him for the last few months.
King Prat, the new missive read.
I'm coming back in one week's time. No need to contain your teeming enthusiasm. I'm afraid your little holiday is ending.
-Merlin.
That was it. There was nothing more, and Arthur was suddenly hit with the sinking sensation that the reason Merlin had not written more was because he thought Arthur wouldn't care either way.
He shouldn't be surprised, he supposed. What reason had he ever given Merlin that he was being missed by Arthur? None.
Too little, too late, Arthur picked his quill up.
Merlin,
It will be nice to have you back.
Arthur.
Merlin stared at the letter Arthur had finally deigned to send him. His bread was halfway to his mouth when Archimedes had brought it to him. His mouth was still hanging open, and it closed only when Salazar nudged him politely.
"Letter from your King?"
"Yes," Merlin said. He smiled a little wider, his day feeling brighter already despite the dreary weather up here. "It is indeed a letter from him."
It wasn't much of a letter, really. More like a note one might scribble down as a reminder for later. Regardless, it was something from Arthur and Merlin didn't particularly care how long or short it was.
He exchanged a grin with Salazar. In the months Merlin had been here, he was gone from being wary about the dark stranger who never left his dungeons to holding him in the strictest confidence. It wasn't that they had suddenly become closer than Merlin was with any of the others, but somehow, on some level Merlin connected with Salazar better than he did with Gryffindor. There was something about him that made Merlin itch with a friendly affection he had not felt since Will.
He had Arthur of course, but Arthur was...Arthur. There was always an undercurrent of something – destiny, perhaps – else between them that Merlin was beginning to understand better during their time apart.
"Ah!" Rowena clasped her fingers together, eyebrows waggling dangerously. "Has the elusive king finally answered to you?"
Merlin blushed at her suggestive tone. Rowena had somehow gotten hold of a letter Gwen sent him weeks ago, hinting at a secret relationship between herself and Lancelot. And Rowena had taken it upon herself to tell Merlin that that meant Arthur was... well, it didn't matter because they weren't like that. Merlin had long suspected something like this had occurred, but it wasn't his place to cast judgment or scorn. Arthur obviously knew, and that was what mattered most.
"All set for you journey back, Master Merlin?" Godric asked in his booming voice.
"Almost. There are still a few objects left to pack. I should finish that now, actually. Excuse me, I will have to leave your company early tonight." He pushed back from the chair.
Salazar stood up as well. "I shall walk with you."
Merlin let his eyebrow convey his incredulity. Salazar was situated in the dungeons whereas Merlin was headed up to one of the towers. When Salazar merely shrugged, Merlin had no choice but to let him follow him.
"How will you celebrate your return with your king?"
"Oh." Merlin waved a hand dismissively. "It won't be anything too – I will miss this place very much."
Salazar stopped him with a firm hold on his elbow, his voice pitched deep and resounded with significance Merlin did not understand yet. "You area always welcome here, no matter how many years pass."
"And you, my friend, are always welcome in Camelot."
"Well," Salazar said, his wicked smirk stretched across his face. "Your king wouldn't appreciate that much from what Gryffindor tells me."
"Sorry, what?"
"Emrys," Slytherin reprimanded.
Merlin laughed. "Well, Arthur will just have to understand. He's good at that...sometimes."
"He must care about you ca great deal if he is so afraid of sharing you."
Merlin stared at the magical moving portrait Rowena had painted last week. It was of Merlin, Gryffindor, and Salazar locked in a three way duel. "Arthur is difficult, but yes. He does care in his own special way."
"You miss him."
"Of course. I miss everyone," Merlin answered carefully.
"You miss him the most," Salazar prodded, and Merlin would forever understand why the Sorting Hat called him shrewd and cunning. "As...more than just a friend," he added when Merlin didn't respond.
Merlin cleared his throat, unwilling to talk about this here. Because yes, he did miss Arthur immensely, and he hated how far apart they had drifted in the few days Merlin had guests in Camelot. Merlin would always care more for Arthur than for anyone else, but that meant very little when Arthur had his queen.
But he didn't have his queen, a sly voice too similar to Salazar reminded him, his First Knight had the queen.
Merlin mentally shook his head. He had long since resigned himself to being first by Arthur's side, and second in Arthur's heart, whether it be to Gwen, or Camelot.
Later that evening, Godric visited him in his chambers with gifts to take back to Camelot. "This is from Rowena and Helga for the Queen. And this," Godric planted a dry, chaste kiss on Merlin's lips, "is a gift from me to your King."
Merlin gaped at him, confused about what had just transpired. "Uh. What?"
"Because Salazar told me about your conversation earlier this evening." Gryffindor grinned.
"Salazar and you are worse than gossiping old maids," Merlin said, carefully putting away a delicate magical artifact Helga had given him. He licked his lips and grinned. "But I shall be sure to pass your gift to the King."