Chapter Text
For all his life, Arthur had loved the cold season. Some of his earliest memories were of his mother playing with him in the snow. Year after year he got excited when Camelot got covered in a thick blanket of glittering snow; when his skin would turn rosy where the icy air bit anything that wasn’t covered by his cloak. As the prince, and a twenty-three-year-old at that, he no longer allowed himself to make the snow angels and sculptures that had kept him busy for hours as a boy, but there were other ways to celebrate the season. Rides and hunts in the forest had a different feel to them, the training sessions with his knights included the occasional snowball, and there was the yule celebration. After Samhain, the town would be decorated in anticipation of the shortest day, with foods and games and festive music, and the Pendragons threw a ball for friends and family each year.
All in all, Prince Arthur was excited when he woke up on the first of November. Silvery light illuminated his room, and when he sat up to look out of the window, the cold air in the room made goosebumps appear on his bare shoulders.
Frowning, Arthur found that his room was the same as when he’d gone to bed the night before - no breakfast, no fire, no candles. The grey sky outside was hard to read, but as it was light already, it couldn’t have been before eight. Which meant that his manservant was late once more.
As if he’d read his mind, the door swung open, and a heavy-breathing Merlin stumbled in, arms laden with a silver plate full of food and a steaming carafe. Arthur watched with a raised brow as he put the plate down on the oak table, dusting off his loose-fitting trousers before he turned around. His already round eyes grew even wider when he found his master awake, and Arthur was half hoping for an apology before that familiar cheeky grin spread across his manservant’s face. And eliminated that hope
“You’re up. Gotten tired of sleeping in late, eh?”
Arthur snorted, giving Merlin the reprimanding glare which he knew wouldn’t work anyways. The boy was too headstrong, but Arthur didn’t mind as much as he used to. He’d grown quite fond of Merlin - not that he’d admit it.
“You’re brave this morning, I see. Need I remind you that I hold the power to throw you into the dungeon whenever I like?”
As he spoke, Merlin crossed the room and walked over towards Arthur, grabbing woollen socks and a shirt on the way so Arthur wouldn’t have to come into contact with the cold air in the room anymore.
“You could, but then you’d have to dress yourself”, Merlin grinned and handed him the socks, then tugged his blanket away swiftly, taking all the wonderful heat with him.
“You could have warmed the room before I got out of bed, you know?”, Arthur groaned as he got up and stretched briefly. He ignored Merlin’s sassy answer and wordlessly held out his arms, waiting to be dressed while he thought about his day.
This year, Arthur was in charge of the yule celebration. Uther was busy with other affairs, Morgana was probably doing girl things, and Arthur needed a chance to prove to his people that he was responsible and more than a good sword fighter. The winter solstice was about two months in the future, but the planning had to start now in order to get everything ready in time. He’d probably start with a list of what he needed, then form a board with tailors, merchants, maybe ask Morgana for help with the guest list…
“Goddess!”, he hissed when Merlin’s hands touched his sensitive sides and ripped him out of his thoughts. “Are you out of your mind?!”
He felt bad for it a second later, since his servant startled and dropped the hem of his shirt, staring at him alarmed. “What? Are you injured? Need I call Gaius?”
“Your hands are ice cold”, Arthur muttered, caught between feeling pitiful and grumpy, and pulled the rest of his shirt on himself. “Seriously, Merlin, what did you do? It’s concerning, no human should be that cold.”
Merlin, back to his chipper demeanour, shrugged and gave Arthur a toothy grin, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I was out collecting firewood, Sire ”, he mocked, “and then your men and your sister stopped me, like, five-hundred times to give me extra tasks. And my gloves got ruined the last time we fought a monster.”
“We?”, Arthur huffed as he got into his pants, “as far as I remember, you were hiding behind a rock while I slew the beast. What did you even do to your gloves? Rip them holding onto that boulder?” He was sure that if Merlin continued to be ridiculous, his own brow would sooner or later be fixed in the raised position it was in now. Any other prince would probably have sent Merlin out of the castle the first time he’d run that cunning mouth of his, or even earlier, when he’d teased Arthur in the town square back in the day. But Arthur had quite honestly been impressed with the boy’s courage, and then he’d spent almost six years growing up with him and getting to know the clever mind behind the pretty facade. Not that Arthur found him pretty, you know, just objectively speaking…Anyways, Arthur valued Merlin’s loyalty and intelligence, even though he was useless in a fight. But that was fine, fighting alongside the prince was the knights’ job after all.
On his way over to the breakfast table, Arthur opened a drawer of his heavy wooden chest of drawers, the one containing multiple pairs of gloves and a few scarves. It wasn’t the proper etiquette to give anything like this to his manservant, then again, nothing was ever according to etiquette when it came to the two of them, Arthur was well aware of that. The thought of Merlin freezing out in the cold didn’t sit right with Arthur, despite Merlin being used to it and probably enduring it easier than Arthur at this point. This was a simple thing to fix, and if it meant no more cold hands on his skin, that was an added advantage.
Arthur chose a pair of fine, yellowish-brown rabbit gloves, lined with soft fur on the inside. He liked them, but the ones he had been wearing so far were still in good condition, so he wouldn’t miss these ones.
He walked over to Merlin, who was trying and failing to build a pyramid of logs in the fireplace, and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Need me to feed you too?”, Merlin sassed. He turned around to look up at Arthur with a grin that brought out the dimples in his cheeks. Arthur couldn’t help but reach out and swipe some dust off Merlin’s cheekbone, his servant couldn’t run around looking like a chimney sweep after all…
“You’re especially feisty this morning, aren’t you?”, Arthur asked pointedly, but held out the gift nevertheless. “Here. I wouldn’t want you to freeze off your hands, you need them for work after all.”
He watched as Merlin’s expression changed to something unreadable, eyes flicking from the gloves to Arthur’s face and back. He took them reluctantly, held them as if they were made of glass.
“Are you sure?”
“Do you not want them?”, Arthur asked calmly.
“Oh I do, I just won’t give them back if you change your mind, so…”
Arthur quickly turned around and walked over to the breakfast table in order to hide his chuckle. Merlin didn’t need to feel encouraged in his behaviour.
“Take them, it’s fine. Oh, and Merlin? I believe the stables need cleaning once you’re done here.”