Author's note: I did say all of these were going to be one-shots, but this ended up being a sequel to day 12 (Gifts) anyway. It could be read as a stand-alone, though!đź’–
Door 18: Home
Merlin was freezing. In fact, he was fairly sure his fingers were stuck around the reins, iced in place by the ridiculously cold winds.
"Who on earth," he complained through chattering teeth, "goes on border inspection in the middle of winter?"
"We are," Arthur replied, far too cheerfully, given the weather. But then, he was probably warm and cosy on his horse, all wrapped up in his fur-lined cloak, thick leather breeches, lamb-skin gloves and a red scarf, the only clothing item Merlin could never begrudge him, as it had been a Yule gift from Hunith.
Merlin hadn't been sure Arthur would appreciate the present, but the Prince had, very much so. The simple, hand-knitted scarf had become a permanent fixture over the last week, wrapped tightly around Arthur's throat whenever he went out, be it on patrol in the Lower Town or a ride-out into the woods.
More than a couple of times, Merlin had caught Arthur stroking a thumb over the wool, smiling to himself – the Prince of Camelot, genuinely touched by the humble gift from a peasant woman.
The thought warmed Merlin, though not enough to chase away the cold. An hour into their ride, he decided that he had had enough. Letting his horse fall back a little, Merlin muttered a quick spell to heat up the saddle and his coat with a spark of magic, sighing when he was finally no longer feeling like a clump of ice. He couldn't overdo it, of course, lest Arthur got suspicious, but he could deal with numb ears and fingers as long as his bum was warm for the rest of their journey.
"Do keep up, Merlin," Arthur called out just then, turning his head when he realised Merlin was no longer riding with him. "We want to make it to the border before sunset."
Merlin rolled his eyes as he guided his horse back to Arthur's side. "Remind me again why exactly you need to go on an undercover border inspection right at the end of Yuletide?"
"There were reports of trouble," Arthur replied.
"Why not send some knights?"
Arthur let out an incredulous snort. "You do not send a group of armed men to your kingdom's borders unless you want to provoke a war."
"Who'd start a war during Yule?"
Arthur grimaced. "King Cenred would, I'm sure," he muttered.
Merlin was startled by the words. "Wait," he said slowly, "we're going to inspect the Escetir border?"
"Oh, didn't I mention that?" Arthur said, turning his eyes on the road.
"Um, no?"
Arthur shrugged. "Well, if you'd paid attention, you would have noticed we've been riding east all day yesterday."
"Mercia's in the east," Merlin pointed out.
Arthur huffed. "The north-east. We've very clearly been riding south-east. Just look at the sun. Honestly, have you retained nothing of what I tried to teach you about navigation?"
"Why should I?" Merlin shot back. "I never travel without you these days, do I? When was the last time you went anywhere by yourself?"
"Well, you are my manservant, no matter how dubious the quality of your service tends to be," Arthur replied haughtily. "I can't spare you."
"Yes, gods forbid His Royal Pamperedness dress or feed himself for a change."
Arthur sent him a glare. "Do shut up, will you?"
"Shan't," Merlin replied, with an insolent grain. "I'm afraid my teeth might just freeze together if I do."
"That might very well be a mercy…" Arthur muttered, but didn't tell him to shut up again.
Instead, they kept up a stream of banter and talk as they rode on, making good progress on their journey. They were travelling light, one saddle bag each, and the road was mostly clear, with only a few patches of frozen snow here and there. They had left the inn they had stayed in right at dawn, too, which meant they might very well make it to Escetir before sunset.
"Arthur," Merlin spoke up eventually. "I was wondering…"
Arthur let out an annoyed sigh. "What is it now?"
"Well, if we're going to inspect the Escetir border, not the one with Mercia… especially the part near the mountains…" He looked at Arthur, but the Prince didn't seem to get the hint.
"Yes?"
"It's just," Merlin went on, "I haven't seen my mother since we fought Kanen, you know, and Ealdor is right across the border…"
Arthur shot him a look, at last catching on. "I'm the Prince of Camelot," he said. "If I cross into Escetir unannounced and someone recognises me, it might start a war."
"But you're lying low. Undercover, remember?"
"I might still be recognised."
"I could go alone, then," Merlin tried to sway him. "You can stay in an inn in Camelot for the night, and I with my mother. I swear I'd be back in the morning." When Arthur didn't say anything he added, as subserviently as he could, "Please, my lord?"
But Arthur didn't reply, which Merlin took as a firm no.
Scowling, he slumped on the horse, letting the mare fall back again as he grumbled to himself. He didn't know why he had even bothered to ask. Arthur had made it very clear he couldn't spare Merlin earlier, hadn't he? He was desperately needed to wipe the royal arse!
Really, at the rate things had been going for the past months, Merlin might not get a day off for as long as he kept working for Arthur – which, according to the dragon, might very well be for the rest of his life.
Not that the stupid clotpole deserved him! Had it really been too much to ask for a single night off to see his mother?
By the time the light was waning, Merlin was still in a foul mood and not speaking to Arthur – until he thought he was starting to recognise the woods around them.
Spurring on his horse, he pulled even with the Prince, throwing him a cautious look as he asked, "Are you sure we haven't just crossed into Escetir?"
Arthur kept his eyes on the winding forest road before them. "Whatever gave you that impression?"
Merlin squinted at a very familiar-looking tree. "Don't know… but these woods…"
"I think we've established that your sense of direction is abysmal, Merlin."
Merlin kept squinting at the forest. "It's just… this looks an awful lot like the forest around Ealdor. Really, I could swear, if we pass that curve—"
He stopped when they took the turn and a field came into view, fenced in and covered by a thin layer of snow. Just beyond it lay a familiar hut.
Merlin's mouth went slack. They were riding right into Ealdor!
"Arthur, I—" he stammered, turning his head towards his Prince, his whole body brimming with a rush of excitement. "Oh, Arthur, are we—are we really…?"
"Surprise," Arthur said, with considerable smugness.
Merlin was left speechless all the way to his mother's house. It was only when they dismounted at the gate that he found his voice again.
"Sire." Merlin reached out to place a hand on Arthur's arm, knowing he would never accept the hug he desperately wanted to give him instead. "Thank you. Really, thank you."
"Go and see your mother," Arthur brushed him off, looking away.
Merlin squeezed Arthur's arm, then turned towards the house, breaking into a huge smile when he saw the door was already wide open, a beaming Hunith at the threshold.
"Merlin!" she exclaimed.
Merlin sprinted towards her and then, he was in her arms, safe and sound, breathing in the familiar smell of herbs that always clung to her hair, mixed with just a hint of Yuletide spice this time of year.
"Oh, how I missed you," Hunith sighed into his shoulder, then pulled back to place a lingering kiss on his brow.
Merlin had to rub at his eyes when they parted. "I missed you, too, mother. So much."
Hunith reached out to gently stroke his cheek, her eyes warm. "There's stew on the fire. Might have to stretch it a little to feed all three of us, but I'll make it work." She dropped her hand, then looked past Merlin's shoulder and towards the fence. "Your Highness," she called out, curtsying. "It's so good to see you again."
Merlin turned to see Arthur was still lingering a few steps away, standing right by the gate, holding onto both horses. "Hunith," he replied with a nod. "I hope you are well?"
"Very well, thank you." Hunith gestured towards the house. "Won't you come in? We can put the horses in Simmons's stables, he won't mind."
Arthur cleared his throat. "I wouldn't want to impose," he said, which was probably the stupidest thing Merlin had ever heard from him. "I was going to return to Camelot and pick up Merlin in two or three days, on my way back…"
"You won't even stay the night?" Hunith asked. "The sun is about to set. You'd be riding through the woods in the dark."
Arthur hesitated, glancing at the orange sky. "Well…"
Merlin made the decision for him. "He'll stay," he said, already approaching Arthur and taking the reins right out of his hands. "Here, I'll take care of these. You go on in."
Arthur threw a sceptical look at the house. "Are you sure I'm not imposing? There's an inn not too far from here—"
"Arthur," Merlin interrupted. "You're staying." He jerked his head at the hut. "Go on now. She'll be thrilled to have you."
By the time Merlin returned from settling in the horses at Simmons's stables (and studiously avoiding the old man's glares), Arthur had sat down at the table, a steaming bowl of stew before him, while Hunith was hanging his cloak to dry at the hearth.
"I'm glad you're getting a use out of your present, sire," she said when she draped the scarf over the cloak, which looked a little damp from the journey.
"It was a very thoughtful gift," Arthur replied, his eyes on the stew.
"And here comes mine," Hunith added as Merlin closed the door behind him. "Thank you for bringing him here, Your Highness. Really, I couldn't have asked for a better Yule present." She pressed another kiss to Merlin's cheek as he walked over to her, then herded him towards the chair across from Arthur, placing a second portion of stew in front of him.
"We just happened to pass by," Arthur said. He was still talking to the bowl. "It only made sense."
"Whatever brought you out here, in the middle of winter?" Hunith asked.
Arthur gave a vague shrug. "There's been some reports about trouble at the border…"
"Really? If there was any, we haven't heard of it here," Hunith mused. "Things have been very quiet and peaceful."
"Well, one can never be too careful," Arthur said, his eyes still fixed on his stew.
It was then that Merlin finally had an epiphany. Really, he felt stupid having taken so long to catch on. "What sort of trouble have they been reporting, Arthur?" he asked innocently. "You never said."
"Oh, just… you know… trouble…" Arthur evaded and hurriedly spooned some stew into his mouth, his cheeks flushing.
A wave of affection washed over Merlin then, strong enough to make him want to tackle Arthur to the ground and force that hug on him, propriety be damned!
Instead, he exchanged a knowing look with Hunith, who winked at him before stepping closer to the table, settling a hand on Arthur's shoulder.
"Well, my lord," she said, "if it does turn out to be nothing but rumours, you're very welcome to stay here for a couple of days. I'd be glad to have you both."
Arthur smiled into his stew. "We'll see."
