AN: Originally, I had planned for this one to be Merlin suffering alone – because, angst. Needless to say, it got away from me. Hope it warms you during this cold season!
He was always cold, these days. No surprise – the wind crept through cracks in crumbling mortar and creaked through doorways and down stairwells. The chill hung heavy in the air and dampened the busyness of the castle and the town, quickening steps and quieting lips. You could almost touch the silence and the stillness, frozen with fingertips and toes.
Merlin doubled further into his coat, shivering as he stuffed his hands into his armpits. He trudged across the courtyard. Snow stuck to his eyelashes, and he even felt his eyeballs cool. He hastened into the castle and the warmth of a fireplace.
Indoors, out, it didn't matter. He could control the chattering of his teeth and the knocking of his knees, but the shiver of his arms was always there.
The fireplace in Arthur's rooms were as good a place as any, and he settled down to get some work done. Gooseflesh pimpled up along his exposed forearms, making itself an almost permanent residence burrowed in his skin.
If I could only get warm…
The flames danced across his vision, searing into his mind's eye, but barely glancing off his skin. He had a vision of being surrounded by the fireplace, happily thawing in the middle.
The vision's fireplace quickly turned into a pyre.
The remembered shriek of the Doracha filled his mind and he flinched, as it mingled with the cry of the multiple sorcerers he'd seen executed.
The morbid thought taunted him. If you confess, you might be warm again. However briefly. A wry smile lifted one corner of his mouth, but he kept polishing, deliberately keeping his eyes away from the flames, even as they flickered in the shield's mirror, even as the cries echoed in his thoughts.
It's just winter.
Whmf, whmf, whmf.
I'll thaw out come spring.
Whmf, whmf, thump.
The cloth fell from his fingertips as Arthur tromped inside, the door swinging shut behind him.
"Weather's getting worse."
"W-w-worse?"
Arthur spared him a glance as he swung his cloak onto a chair. "Yes, worse. It always gets worse after Yule." He slowly removed his gloves, finger by finger, and threw them to the table.
"I know." Merlin flexed his fingers and inspected the shield, then set it aside. It clanked softly against the wall. Merlin reached for a new piece of armor, his arms trembling.
CLANG!
The shield toppled with a clatter, startling Merlin to a yelp.
"What is the MATTER with you!" Arthur yelped, crouched back against the table, using a chair to balance.
Merlin cut his eyes at the king. "What's the matter with YOU? T-t-tromping in here, loud as you please, and d-d-dripping SNOW everywhere! C-c-can't you dry off when you enter the c-c-castle instead of in here?"
They glared at each other, neither backing down, until Merlin was forced to look away by a mighty sneeze. Arthur snorted.
"That'll wake the dead."
"At least they'll be on our s-side, then."
"With your germs? No way."
"At least I d-don't…summon elephants with my footsteps!"
"Your sneezes would double as a mating call!"
"I'm sure they would find you a worthy spouse, Your Rotundness!"
"Don't call me FAT!"
Merlin did his best to suppress his smirk, but failed miserably. He slapped both hands across his mouth and let out a deep chortle at the red-faced rage in front of him. Arthur growled, and in a second, he gripped Merlin by the back of the neck. The servant flinched, scrunching his head down and back, but Arthur quickly released him.
"Why are you so COLD?" He rubbed his hands together and warmed them toward the fire.
"It's….winter?"
"You've been sitting so close to the fireplace I thought you'd burn."
Merlin flinched. "It's…winter."
"No, you're unnaturally cold. This is ridiculous."
"It's WINTER."
Arthur, instead of retorting, grabbed on of Merlin's hands, eyes wide. "Your fingers are freezing and your neck is like ice. This is NOT NORMAL."
"IT'S WINTER."
"I'm taking you to Gaius. This is ridiculous. Don't you have a hat? A coat? Gloves?"
"Why?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. "For…WINTER?" The King pulled his servant by the forearm behind him, thumping down the hallways.
Merlin was silent for half of the trip to the physician's chambers.
"Mom usually makes my winter stuff. I…haven't been home in a while. Since my other stuff…wore out."
Arthur's step stuttered. He came to a full stop for half a minute. Merlin could almost see the gears grinding. Suddenly, he renewed his step even more vigorously, almost giving his servant whiplash as they briskly trotted through the winding corridors.
"Gaius?" Arthur hollered before the door was even open.
The physician turned with a long-suffering sigh, holding tools in both hands. "This better be important, sire."
"Uh…."
Merlin's cold sounded ridiculous.
He sniffed pompously.
"Merlin's cold."
Gaius raised an eyebrow. "It's winter?"
"Ridiculously, unnaturally cold."
"He's a peasant, sire. He hasn't the coin for food, clothing, and fuel as you have."
Arthur pushed Merlin at Gaius. "Just…feel him."
Gaius sighed, placed his tools carefully on the bench, and wiped his hands on a cloth. Arthur searched his face for any concern as the physician felt along Merlin's neck, hands, and torso.
There was none.
"Yes, sire, he is cold, but nothing unusual. Merlin, has it gotten worse?"
Arthur noticed the shifty glance his servant gave him. "Uh, no, Gaius."
Gaius turned Merlin and gently pushed him back to Arthur. "He is no colder than usual and, by his own admission, has not had any worsening symptoms from his encounter with the Dorocha."
"Gaius."
Gaius ignored the hissed warning as he turned back to his tools. "Merlin, I told you that if you didn't tell him yourself, I would."
"Gai-us!"
Arthur almost laughed at hearing Merlin whine childishly.
"You are completely irresponsible when taking care of your own health, and the promise you made to TELL US when something is wrong still stands."
Merlin crossed his arms and pouted. "I don't ever recalling making any such promise."
"Scar on your chin."
"Back full of bruises."
"Concussion."
"Big giant vase broken over you during the troll incident."
Gaius chuckled. "Obviously the king and I remember even if you refuse to do so, Merlin, so I suggest you start telling him things."
Merlin sighed at looked at Arthur, petulant, but resigned to his fate. "Fine. Sorry. I'm still cold from the Dorocha. I don't have any winter clothes because I haven't been home to see my mother in two years. And I HATE winter and I HATE being cold."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Not you, too."
Maintaining eye contact with his servant, the king crossed his arms. "Gaius, do you have anything for Merlin's affliction?"
"His mental affliction or the one by the Dorocha?"
"Either." Merlin stuck out his tongue.
"The former, I'm afraid, cannot be remedied. However, I do have a draught for the latter, one that Merlin has been avoiding for the past week." Gaius glanced over his glasses.
"But it's gross!"
Gaius made a tsk, tsk with his tongue. Arthur continued to raise an eyebrow at Merlin.
"Merlin, go drink your draught."
He sighed, he shifted, he rolled his eyes, but when Gaius passed him the bottle and tapped it against his elbow, eyes still on his own work, Merlin took it and halfheartedly unstoppered the vial. He took a breath, shivered again, and knocked it back.
"Blech! Bluh…gah! Ugh, Gaius. It's so…." His whole body shook once, violently. "Can I have some water?"
Without waiting for a response, Merlin walked over to the water bucket near the fireplace and drained two dippers. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he turned back to face the room.
"Merlin, do you need to go home and see your mother?"
His servant slowly met the king's eyes, his own wide and shining.
"I…" He inhaled sharply. "My…my place is with you, sire."
"Do you want to go home to see your mother?"
"I…."
"You didn't get Yule off and you took off only half of the next day. I have no tournaments, feasts, or important meetings planned in the next two weeks. It's too cold for marauders of any breed and, however unlikely, your help in preventing any attacks are minimal to none."
Arthur took a step in toward Merlin. He waved his hand vaguely toward his servant's bedroom. "Go. Pack. Leave tomorrow with a horse and take a week to visit your mother. I'll expect you to wake me up eight mornings from now." He turned and reaching the door, opened it to exit, but paused. He glanced back at Merlin. "I'll send notice to the quartermaster and cook for extra supplies. Be sure to stop by in the morning before you leave."
He firmly shut the door behind him, but it didn't prevent him from hearing Merlin's exclamation.
"What?"
Then,
"But…but I need to pack!"
And soon after,
"I can't!"
Gaius' quiet murmurs didn't penetrate the wooden door, but a series of thumps indicated a wild romp up the stairs and the panicked packing of goods.
Arthur straightened from pressing his ear against to the door, smiled to himself, and whistled almost the entire way back to his chambers. He had some messages to write.
The wind whipped wildly through the air, grasping at hairs and swirling the snow, obscuring the path. A glint of gold shone through the white-blind scene, and soon, a young man stumbled out of the blankness and against the corner of a building. He shivered, gasped, and searched forward, one hand against the rough wood, and the other guarding his face. Snow clumped against his blue knit cap, his pack, and in every crevice. He guided himself around each corner of the building, finally finding an entrance.
He knocked violently, rattling the door and its latch. Without waiting for a response, he pushed the door open and slammed it behind him, breathing heavily in the sudden stillness.
"Oh! Please, come warm yourself by the fire," a warm voice welcomed.
The intruder squinted, moved toward the hearth, and settled quietly. As he started unwrapping the scarf from his neck, he slowly looked around, blinking slowly.
His heart thudded in his chest.
"Here, let me help you." Hands deftly opened the layers, exposing his body to the heat.
"Thanks." He shucked his sodden clothing, nodding when instructed to hang them on the line hanging near the fireplace.
"Here, I've got some dry clothes and a towel. Go ahead and get dry, and I'll be back in a few minutes with something warm to drink."
He nodded again, and obeyed sluggishly, pulling the blanket over his shoulders as the voice returned.
He focused his sight enough to see curly dark hair and a golden complexion as the woman placed a mug in his hand.
"How did you find this place? You're really very lucky to have found me in the middle of this blizzard."
"Where am I?"
"You stumbled on a park ranger cabin. You're in the middle of Snowdonia National Park. You're lucky to not have broken your neck getting here."
He grunted in response.
"Do you have anyone I need to call for you?"
He stared at the contents of the mug, swirling the brown substance.
"Is anyone waiting for you? Knows you're out and needs to know you're safe?"
He sipped at the mug. Hot chocolate. Bit of cinnamon. "No."
She sighed.
"What's your name?"
"Gwen."
His heart stopped as he looked into her smiling eyes, and knew.