Wintry Calm (so in love with the wrong world) 4/13

[ceeebee]

"Just don't let anything slip." Morgana began, her fingers holding onto Merlin's wrist to the point where it was making his eyes smart. "About me and Morgause. Just...God, Merlin, be careful and look after yourself."

"I'll be fine," Merlin told her gently, at the same time as he began to prise her off of his arm. "He's only got me for an hour. I'll be in and out of there in no time."

"I know, but Merlin..." she trailed off, her eyes roving over his face and taking in his calm expression.

At this, he leant forwards and hugged her tightly. "Stop worrying," he murmured before pulling away and knocking on the front door.

Morgana swallowed hard then nodded and whispered, "I'll come meet you, all right?" And before the other could say anything in response, she already was moving away and out of sight.

***

Merlin watched her go, biting his lip as he moved nervously from foot to foot. Everything he knew about Cenred came from Morgana, and everything she knew came from Morgause, and not much of what Morgause had told her was very... Nice.

Merlin thought, wondering as he stood there, how two people who obviously despised each other could end up getting married. But then when the door was finally answered, and Merlin found himself face to face with his new client, he could see where some of the attraction might lie.

Cenred was taller than Merlin and clad entirely in leather, right down to a pair of flexible black gloves. His hair hung to his shoulders, like Gwaine's, but it was a shade darker, and straighter. Merlin couldn't decide whether he liked it or not though. In fact, he wasn't sure he liked much at all about Cenred's appearance, but he could certainly see why others would. He was obviously handsome, and perhaps Merlin would have been more interested, if it weren't for the cold expression on his face and the way he seemed to scrutinise Merlin before stepping back and allowing him entrance.

"Thanks," Merlin muttered as he ducked inside, shrugging off his jacket as he went. The hallway was dark, lit by dim electric lights that flickered eerily and reminded Merlin of the horror film he and Will had stolen into the cinema to watch when they were about eight. In retrospect it had been complete shit, and Merlin was sure he could watch it again now and do nothing but laugh the whole way through. But at the time it had had him sobbing into Will's shoulder, and now as he anxiously glanced around at the constantly flickering lights, he felt a familiar chill settling at the bottom of his stomach.

Cenred hadn't even bothered to deign Merlin with an 'it's all right', instead pushing past him and leading him upstairs. Merlin hesitated for a moment, floored. Morgana had told him that she'd always gone downstairs to meet Morgause. In fact, she had described the layout of the basement in great detail so Merlin was sure he could navigate it easily, if for some reason he needed to get away-away from Cenred. He knew nothing of what awaited him upstairs, but it wasn't as if he really had a choice. With a deep breath he jogged after Cenred, lowering his head when the ceiling sloped above him and letting go of the banister quickly when it gave an unstable jerk.

The bedroom door was made of black metal and when Cenred pulled it open, Merlin had to stand back. It swung outwards, and there was barely enough room for it on the little landing. Cenred led the way inside, pulling off his leather jacket as he moved to sit on the double bed in the centre of the room. Merlin could feel his palms beginning to sweat as he stood awkwardly by the open door, his eyes roving about the room. Everything was either black or dark purple, and the atmosphere was nothing short of terrifying.

"Well?" The first word Cenred had spoken since Merlin's arrival was like a shock to his system, and he blinked, his gaze coming to rest on the older man's face. "I'm not paying you to just stand there."

At the implied invitation, Merlin nodded in stunted agreement and slowly moved forwards. Sometimes it was easy to tell what your client wanted while at other times it was impossible to do the right thing until your instructions were stated clearly. With Cenred it wasn't difficult: Merlin shed his clothes as he walked without being told. Shoes and socks first, because he had learnt the hard way that trying to take your trousers off whilst still wearing your trainers was...ungainly, to say the least. Then it was his worn hoodie, which Gwaine had picked up for him when it became clear that not a day would go by where Merlin wouldn't bite the inside of his cheek or lip from his teeth chattering so much.

As Cenred nodded approvingly, Merlin continued to divest himself of his t-shirt and then his trousers, until he was standing with his knees up against Cenred's, wearing only his underwear. There was a chill in the room that caused gooseflesh to rise on Merlin's arms and legs, and it was all he could do not to wrap his arms tightly around his stomach in an effort to keep warm or at least protect himself from Cenred's penetrating stare.

There was a moment of silence before Cenred's eyes finally flicked downwards. In an instant, Merlin understood what he wanted, but it still took a couple of seconds for his thumbs to find the waistband of his boxers and push them down. Cold air hit his dick, and he sucked in a breath as he stepped out of his final scrap of clothing before kicking it away.

The man in front of him appraised Merlin's body for a moment as he took in the sight of his prick, soft but heavy between his thighs. Then his hands were on Merlin's hips, bruising and possessive.

"There are no boundaries here," Cenred hissed, "I pay you to give me exactly what I want."

"For an hour," Merlin spoke quickly, before he lost his nerve. That had been the agreement for the first time. If Merlin reported back to Gwaine later and told him everything was fine, perhaps his next visit would be for longer. Somehow, with Cenred's ever tightening grip on his waist, Merlin couldn't quite see that happening.

"Don't underestimate what we can get done in an hour, Merlin."

Merlin gasped as Cenred stood suddenly with a squeaking of dark leather that rubbed against his bare skin. The deliberate use of his name had unnerved him even more-there had been too much emphasis behind the word to make him feel even remotely at ease.

Cenred towered over him, despite his gangly height, and moved his hands up from the younger man's hips to his forearms, fingers wrapping around his pale skin before he was twisting him around and shoving him forwards, towards a dressing table.

There was a second during which Merlin was only just able to come to terms with the idea that Cenred was going to fuck him over his wife's dresser before it was already happening. There was a hand at the back of his neck, forcing him down over the wood, and at that moment he'd wanted to struggle simply because if Cenred had asked, he would have positioned himself without complaint.

That was his job, after all-the thought made him bristle at the force being used to hold him in place, and he grunted when the side of his face slammed down. Soon, the pressure on his neck vanished, and there was the unmistakeable sound of leather gloves being pulled from fingers.

"Lick."

Cenred's voice made Merlin's eyes fly open. He hadn't even realised that he had allowed them to shut, but he guessed that Cenred had been waiting with his hand in front of Merlin's mouth for at least a couple of seconds. His tone was impatient and commanding, and Merlin stuck out his tongue, drawing Cenred's fingers quickly into his mouth hoping that if he moved with enough speed the man might mistake his rushed reluctance for enthusiasm. Not that it mattered how Merlin felt anyway.

Cenred's digits tasted of rust, and Merlin wondered whether it was from the bedroom door or something more sinister. He remembered falling over when he was younger and pressing his open mouth over the cuts on his knee like a sick parody of a kiss as he tried to make the pain go away. Now he internally shuddered at how much Cenred's skin reminded him of the taste of blood and was relieved when the hand was removed, even though there wasn't any room to doubt where they were going next.

Merlin's jaw, already slack and slightly saw from working around Cenred's fingers, fell open wider when the man breached him. It burned, and Merlin fought back a whimper, waiting for Cenred to finish preparing him. It didn't take long: just a few shallow thrusts from a single, blunt finger before it was the man's cock, pressing at Merlin's hole. At that moment, Merlin whined long and high, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment but unable to help it. He was frantically trying to figure out when Cenred had undone his trousers-when he had drawn out his cock and lined it up. It seemed important even though it really, really wasn't, when the man was pushing past that tight, hot ring of muscle, mouth coming down to bite at Merlin's shoulder.

Merlin flailed a bit beneath him, drawing in a ragged breath as Cenred's body mass bared down over him and when Cenred was pulling out, giving Merlin a chance to gasp loudly, before slamming back dry and unforgiving and stretching the boy beyond endurance. It was on the third punishing thrust that the first sparks of pleasure rippled their way up Merlin's spine, and he clenched his fists when he felt his own cock stirring, hardening against his stomach. Cenred didn't try to stop him when he grabbed his dick and began stroking erratically, even whilst the older man continued to fuck him mercilessly. Somewhere, deep inside his own head, Merlin was grateful that Cenred didn't seem to care about Merlin getting himself off, for this was an orgasm he didn't want to prolong, and there wasn't nearly enough pleasure when he climaxed, his vision going white around the edges.

Cenred came a few seconds later, and for a moment Merlin was terrified that he would feel it-feel Cenred's come filling him up. Thankfully, that never happened, and Merlin realised that Cenred must have put on a condom as quietly as he had unzipped his fly. There was something wet though, sliding down his thighs when Cenred pulled out, and he moaned softly as he felt teeth and tongue dragging a heated, painful line down his neck.

"That was less than an hour," Cenred murmured into his ear, at the same time placing a small leather pouch on the dresser, right in Merlin's line of vision. "But I can't think of anything more to do with you, in this state."

Merlin flinched when he felt Cenred pinch his flank. "Get dressed, take the money, and go."

In that instant, it felt to Merlin as if he had to un-stick himself from the furniture, wincing as he peeled himself off and up with his chest glowing red and sweaty. Cenred had moved away, back towards the bed, and wasn't watching like he had done when Merlin stripped. Merlin was glad for that: he doubted there had been anything remotely sexy about the way he stumbled to snatch up his trousers, grimacing with every step.

Nothing was offered to him to wipe away the blood which was still oozing from his hole, and he hesitated for a moment before using a shaking hand to smear the worst of it away. The scarlet slickness between his legs made him want to throw up, and he reflected on how this had to be the worst it could get. He'd been fucked before now-of course he had, but apart from the very first time no one had left him feeling so damn sore and definitely not in a good way.

It took him a few fumbling minutes to get back into his clothes, his hoodie being the last thing to put on as he dragged it over his head until he was swamped in it. It smelt like Gwaine, and he sighed a little, hugging it tighter around him. After that, he picked up the leather pouch, telling himself that no matter how much was inside, he would not be returning.

***

"I'm starting to think you enjoyed that too much, dearest," Morgause purred as she changed into her nightdress, eyes only leaving her husband's face when the material slipped over her head.

Cenred snorted, "So shoot me," he replied, his expression hungry as she got into the bed beside him. "It's not as if you don't like the girl."

"The girl is who will change our lives," Morgause spoke. settling back against her pillows. "I'm allowed to like her."

"Well, the boy has his charms." Morgause rolled her eyes at Cenred's shark like demeanour as he remembered Merlin writhing beneath him.

"I'm sure," she sighed before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, "I trust you fucked him hard enough for Morgana to notice?"

"I fucked him hard enough for the whole world to notice," Cenred chuckled, rolling over until he had Morgause's wrists pinned above her. "Uther could see that boy's bruises from across the Wall."

At this, Morgause smiled, allowing Cenred to have control for a moment and groaning when he leant down to suck at her collar bone. Then she pushed back to tug a hand free and to twist her fingers in his hair, manoeuvring until it was him underneath, eyes glinting with want.

"And you paid him well?"

"Not well enough that he'll ever come back." Cenred frowned, propping himself up on his elbows and leaving his eyes wide open when Morgause kissed him softly, reacting slowly to the lips massaging his before pulling away. "When are you going to explain all this to me, Morgause? Why that girl? And why was leaving that kid bowlegged so damn important?"

Morgause lay flat out on top of Cenred, tangling her legs with his and resting with her head on his chest. "Morgana isn't just some random whore, dear." She pressed a kiss just above his left nipple, breathing over the slightly raised flesh and watching it pebble. "I knew it from the moment I saw her."

"Knew what?" Cenred's breathing was ragged as he tangled ringed fingers in his wife's long blonde hair.

"That she was my sister." She looked up, smiling when Cenred let out a loud groan, lost simply to the sound of her voice and the pictures her words were painting.

"You...you..."

"Well, half sister," Morgause amended, "and she doesn't know. But I know that she is perfect and that her father...well, he isn't quite as commendable."

"Tell me," Cenred rasped, somehow finding the strength to once again lift himself up a little and look down at Morgause.

"Uther Pendragon," she whispered, her voice floating up over his skin.

"Oh," he gasped.

"Quite," Morgause murmured, propping her chin on his chest. "My mother told me that she'd had another child, when I saw her again that time. You remember?"

Cenred nodded. It wasn't hard to forget a woman like Morgause's mother, but what was even harder to forget was the way Morgause had killed her. Blood had flooded the streets that night, and the next morning children had played in the drying filth whilst their parents ran after them, screaming. "That's why you saw her dead," he filled in the gaps, cupping Morgause's jaw.

"It is. But I bear no ill will against my beloved sister. And now you, my love, have given her the final push into my arms."

Cenred's forehead creased in another frown as he let himself fall back and stare up at the ceiling. "How?" he asked.

Morgause sighed, heavily. "We are united now," she explained, "by a mutual hatred."

"Of Uther?" Cenred supplied, confused.

In that instant, she frowned. "Well, there is that, although for once I didn't mean Uther."

At this, Cenred swallowed. "Then who-?"

But before he could say anything more, there was a deafening bang and a scraping of metal on wood as the bedroom door was forced open and then blasted completely off its hinges, slamming into the right wall.

Cenred pushed Morgause away from him with a yelp, legs swinging out of bed. He was halfway up when something, some invisible force, punched straight through his heart. There was a moment of stifling silence, where his gaze slid dazedly from the face of the pale girl who had burst into the room and killed him, with her dark hair tied over one shoulder, to the eyes of Morgause. She smiled at him, slow and twisted and everything that he had ever loved about her.

"You," she said, softly when he was crashing down, head cracking against the bedpost. Dead.

***

Merlin had wanted to run from the house, but with every step it felt like he was being ripped open, like Cenred had split him to the core, and there was no hope of sealing up the bloody gap he'd left behind.

A soft sob escaped him as he turned down the alleyway where he was supposed to be meeting Morgana, and he brought his hand up to his mouth before sagging against the wall. He didn't want her to see him like this, but he wasn't sure he could make it back to Gwaine's by himself, either. And it was unlikely that he'd be able to hide his obvious discomfort from her for any reasonable length of time, for they were simply too close.

With that in mind, he waited, panting heavily against his own hand, his head tipped back and eyes shut.

When Morgana arrived, hair swept forwards over her shoulders that were slightly hunched against the cold, she didn't waste any time. She was by Merlin in a moment, a hand curling protectively around his neck as she shifted him, subtly moving him until their foreheads were pressed together. She could feel cool sweat drying on his brow, and when his fingers moved to touch her they were shaking.

"Merlin," she breathed, tugging gently on the hair at his nape, "what happened?"

But she already knew. She could see it in the way he refused to look into her eyes: the way he was slightly bent over, drawing himself in. For a second she did nothing and just felt him there, watching as he curled his hands up in her jacket and just held. Then she was tugging him forwards.

"Come on," she urged, pulling him along, "we've got to get you back, now."

It took them half an hour, but it should have been under twenty minutes. Merlin's footsteps were slightly uneven, and Morgana could hear his short intakes of breath whenever they picked up the pace. In the end she stopped trying to make him speed up and slowed down so that they were walking steadily, side by side.

Gwaine was waiting for them when they got back, an arm wound around Freya's waist as they watched some meaningless crap on the TV. Morgana pictured how Merlin had looked when he had finally managed to fix the bloody thing after spending days whispering to it, eyes flashing determinedly. Now they had five channels, and sometimes it was all they could do to drag Freya from the sofa. It turned out that she liked to curl up and lose herself in the moving pictures, no matter how meaningless. It was completely understandable.

Morgana took one look at them now though, just sitting there, before she lost it.

"Get the fuck up," she hissed, letting go of Merlin's arm as she moved closer to them. "Gwaine, move!"

Gwaine looked up quickly, pulling away from Freya with his eyes flitting between Morgana and Merlin. "Morgana, what-?" He trailed off the minute he saw the look on her face.

She wasn't crying, she was just breathing in harsh pants, and her eyes were shining. "Just look after him, okay? Turn that shit off, fucking hell Gwaine, why did you let him go there?" Gwaine was immediately on his feet, hurrying towards where Merlin was standing.

"I'm fine," Merlin tried to reassure, "it wasn't even that bad, I-"

"Shut up, Merlin," Morgana sighed, already halfway back out the door. "Just...don't." And she swallowed. "I'm going to kill that bastard."



Ever since he was a very small child it had been Lance's dream, his ambition even, to become a Knight of Camelot. It was the sort of idea which most young boys gave up on, once they started getting into school properly and began reading the newspapers: Knights were there to protect the city, but it didn't take much research to discover that the city was so messed up anyway that there wasn't much point anymore.

Lance knew once there had been a time when being a Knight meant something more than just standing guard outside of Pendragon Estate, where the King lived, or patrolling the Wall in case the sorcerers on the other side started feeling rebellious. Once it had been more than money or fame...not that Lance didn't want those things. He collected the action figures like any other kid: Sir Leon had always stood proudest on his bedside table, and he sometimes fell asleep imagining what it would be like if in ten years time, some other boy slept with a figure of him, of Sir Lancelot, standing on top of a CD rack.

Those were the nights where he fell asleep smiling.

The only thing was that not anyone could become a Knight of Camelot. You had to have been born on the right side of the Wall. You had to be of pure and noble birth. Lance didn't even know who his mother was, but he sure as hell knew she hadn't been a noblewoman, seeing as his childhood home had been nothing more than a shack and his father nothing more than a door to door salesman. Not that there was anything wrong with that...it just wasn't enough.

Eventually when he was twelve, he finally told his father that he was leaving home. That he was crossing the Wall to go to school, and he was going to make it work. It was difficult, of course, and just on the edge of being illegal, but he did it. Every morning he would make the journey, the long walk from one side of the city to the other, and then after school he would come back again. It had been a while before he felt safe making the journey...a few months before he could be certain of when the Knights would be changing guards, leaving the door between the two sides unprotected for a mere minute or so and allowing him to slip through unnoticed.

Once on the other side though, everything was how Lance had imagined, and it was perfect.

He won friends by fighting for them: no one could deny that he had talent or that he worked hard. Every day he trained. Boxing, fencing, shooting, running, swimming...he was a natural at all of them, but especially boxing. People learnt to respect that no one could throw a punch like Lance could, and who cared if he dressed a little rough and spoke a little funny? It was better to learn to accept that than be on the wrong side of his fist. Not that Lance ever hurt anyone for taunting him-he just never corrected people when they misjudged him.

Later on he became part of a small circle of people who he felt safe enough to call friends, even if their relationships were mostly built up out of mutual fear. Lance never really liked any of his friends, but he preferred their company to being alone.

Lance never really liked anyone-that is, until he spoke to Gwen for the first time.

He could still remember when she had introduced herself, sitting next to him in the playground and smiling toothily with a flush on her cheeks because she had obviously run over to talk to him.

He could still hear himself saying, "You're Guinevere," and feel the heat in his face because, God, he'd had a crush on her even then, and they'd barely spoken before.

In response, she had shaken her head, saying quickly, "Don't call me that! It's Gwen."

It had been so simple...a few minutes later she had been taking his hand and pulling him back to class because the bell had rung to signal the end of break. He'd known exactly where she sat for every lesson and had walked her to her seat, laughing because she'd been doing a shockingly accurate impression of Arthur Pendragon, who was a few years above them.

"You've got to be careful," he'd added though, "you could get in trouble for that. It's-"

"Treason?" She'd smiled playfully up at him, although there had been something a little harder in her eyes.

"Well, yeah." Because everyone knew what could happen if you messed with Arthur. A kid would nick his pencil, and the next thing you knew, his whole family was in court.

Lance watched the Prince sometimes when they were at lunch or after school at football and could never quite make up his mind about him. On the one hand everyone knew that when he was old enough, Arthur would become a Knight, and once his father passed away he would rule over Camelot. That was something Lance had always resented: how Arthur got everything just because of the family he had been born into. But Lance also knew that if he ever somehow succeeded and became a Knight, he would be working directly under, or maybe even with, Arthur Pendragon.

None of these observations brought him any closer to finding out what Arthur was actually like though, and the older boy kept himself pretty closed off even at football. In the end, Lance stopped trying to figure him out, deciding that if Arthur wanted to be all mysterious that was fine. There would be plenty of time to get to know him when they were training for battle together or guarding the Wall. God, what wouldn't Lance give for that to happen?

Anyway, Gwen was smiling up at him, and Lance was already doing this thing where he shook his head fondly at her and gave her a little wave mouthing, 'Talk to you at lunch.' She'd nodded and then quickly turned to face the board, suddenly attentive with her books all stacked up in front of her.

Lance hated himself for finding her so much cuter than words.

It wasn't for a long time that he acted upon the impulse that licked through him every time she grinned at him or caught him unaware by running up behind him and catching him around the waist. It was a funny little thing she seemed to reserve only for him, and he never knew whether to laugh or cry when he felt her arms around him and heard her giggling right by his ear.

They were at the Pendragon's house when it happened though. Gwen had told him it had been hers, but of course it wasn't. Everyone knew what Pendragon Estate looked like, especially Lance, who had a poster of it on his bedroom wall: it was where the knighting ceremony was held after all.

However, he hadn't told Gwen he'd known. Initially he'd been confused, but it didn't take long for him to come to the conclusion that she worked there. It never even occurred to him to tell her that he knew her secret...for he knew what it felt like to be ashamed of where you came from, which was precisely the reason he never invited her round to his house.

He had been losing the game of checkers they'd been playing, abysmally. Gwen always beat him and laughed when he looked put out, saying, "Imagine me with boxing gloves on, though!" which of course only led to him setting up an impromptu boxing ring in the kitchen.

This time she didn't say anything about sport, though. She didn't even really have time to open her mouth because suddenly Lance couldn't hold it in anymore, and he was leaning forwards, pressing his lips to hers.

It lasted all of three seconds, and she didn't move, her eyes wide like a startled deer in the headlights. Still, it wasn't her lack of response which made him pull away, but the bang of the door being thrown wide open.

He had never seen a real expression on Arthur's face before, apart from perhaps jubilation when their school team won a match or the arrogance which seemed permanently ingrained into his features anyway. Even those images had faded from his mind, since Arthur had moved to another school last year. But at that moment, the blonde's whole body seemed to be taut with anger, and Lance was on his feet in a second, swallowing. At first he had thought Arthur's rage stemmed from the fact that he was here in his house, but then the boy was looking at Gwen, and something uncomfortable clicked in Lance's brain.

He let out a soft "oh" of understanding before Arthur's hands were curling around his upper arms, and he was being dragged forcibly from the building. Gwen didn't call after him, and it was her silence that sapped him of any strength he might have used to struggle.

Lance had half expected Arthur to say something after he tossed him back onto the street outside, perhaps a clichéd 'never turn up on my doorstep again', but nothing happened and Arthur was just as quiet as Gwen when he turned and left him there, completely alone.

The next few days had been some of the worst in his life. He'd turned up to school as usual with the intent of apologising to Gwen or, alternatively, shaking her until she explained what the hell had happened. Was she with Arthur? Did she love him? Had she really had no idea that Lance was head over heels about her, that he would do anything for her?

Each question made him feel ill, if only for the reason that he knew that if Gwen did like Arthur, Lance would still be there for her-not waiting for something to go wrong so that he could swoop in and take Arthur's place, but just as a friend. He would support any decision she made because nobody could choose who they fell for, and he would never blame her for not loving him back.

So he'd waited for her to come into school...but she never did, and he'd kept coming in for two weeks before truly accepting the fact that she wasn't ever returning. Then it hit him that, even if he could find a way to convince Uther that he was of noble birth or at least worthy to join the Knights in some other way, Arthur would never let it happen now.

He left school for the last time when he was fifteen years old and told his father to stop paying for the education he felt he no longer needed. He tried to pretend he didn't see the relief in his dad's eyes and not wonder how long the old man had been waiting for his son to give up on his foolish dreams and stop wasting the money they didn't have.

Lance had a new purpose now, anyway. If he couldn't protect the whole of Camelot, he could at least look out for the only person that really mattered to him.

***

"How do we know you aren't going to just go straight to Uther and hand us in?" Morgana spat out, glaring at Arthur with her hands still curled up tightly. Merlin's request to accompany Arthur hung between them.

"I haven't spoken to my father in three months," Arthur replied coldly, "and so far, surprisingly, neither of you have done anything that makes me think you ought to be arrested."

"We crossed the border!" Morgana cried out, bringing up her hand to slam it in frustration against the kitchen counter. "We didn't get passes...you know we don't have passes!"

"As a matter of fact," Arthur sighed tiredly as he held Morgana's gaze, "I thought you did have passes."

It was partly true...to be honest, Arthur hadn't even given any thought to the slips of paper that granted the permission needed to travel from one side of the Wall to the other. He wondered how Morgana and Merlin had managed without them. Obviously he'd need to have a word with the Knights...otherwise he'd have to speak to his father. He really hadn't been lying though, when he'd said it'd been three months.

"Morgana," Merlin began in a tentative tone, looking imploringly at her. "Firstly, I think you should stop trying to persuade Arthur that we've broken the law because that's just generally unhelpful."

At this, Morgana let out a huff of air and chewed the inside of her cheek. On the other hand, Arthur almost couldn't help the smile that slowly appeared on his face at the sound of Merlin trying to be rational.

"And secondly," the younger man continued, glancing quickly at him, "I don't think he's going to hand us over to Uther. I won't let him, anyway."

"Excuse me?" Arthur's smile vanished abruptly, and he spluttered.

"I'm going to come with you..." Merlin replied, "I wasn't actually asking, you know," and he was padding from the kitchen before any of them could call him back.

Gwen looked between her boyfriend and Morgana for a moment, trying not to laugh at the remarkably similar dumbfounded expressions they had on their faces as they stared after Merlin.

"I'll go find him some shoes, shall I?" she said, rolling her eyes when neither of them answered then hurrying after the boy who had been let loose in her house.

She found him leaning heavily against the banister but looking mournfully down at his feet. "Are you all right?" she asked, moving to stand beside him.

"I don't have any shoes," he told her with a sigh, "and it kinda hurts to walk and stuff."

At that moment, Gwen bit back a smile because Merlin was really a bit adorable before she'd looked at him and told him gently:

"He really won't go to Uther...he isn't like that. Nothing would happen if you decided to stay here."

Merlin looked at her and found himself appreciating the fact that she didn't say outright that it wasn't as if he'd be able to stop Arthur from going to his father anyway. Even though Merlin knew he was more than capable, even with wonky feet, thank you very much.

"I know he won't," he assured her, moving gingerly from foot to foot. "But I want to go."

Gwen lifted an eyebrow. "Why?"

Almost at once Merlin realised he was heading into dangerous waters: he must in no way insinuate that he had a crush on this woman's boyfriend. More than a crush. A boat-sized bucket of infatuation might be a more apt description of his condition.

"I want to see what it's like, this side of the Wall," was the tentative reply he'd settled on because at least it wasn't a lie.

Gwen's expression softened again as she placed a hand on his arm. "There'll be plenty of time for that," she began, but at Merlin's crestfallen expression she couldn't help but laugh and say, "all right, listen. I'm going to find you some shoes and then get Arthur to drive you into town instead of taking you for a walk. He does enough walking, anyway." And Merlin wondered if he could imagine the faint hint of resentment behind her words, "he can show you the sights."

At this, Merlin beamed, "Can Morgana come too?"

"Erm," Gwen made a little grimacing face as she continued in a more reluctant voice, "something tells me that she and Arthur aren't going to get on that well...my boyfriend can be a little difficult around new people. I might take Morgana out tomorrow, if she wants to, and you can come with us both then too?"

"Your boyfriend's a prat," Merlin said sagely, "but yes, these all sound like good plans."

Gwen laughed, taken aback by the other's boldness. She decided that she very much liked him. "I'm glad you think so...about the plans, not about Arthur being a prat."

"But you know it's true," he chuckled, nudging her with a big grin on his face. "Also, you really deserve a boyfriend who can cook."

"You do know I can hear you?" Arthur called, stepping out of the kitchen and into the hallway. "And that I will always be able to hear whatever anyone says in here while I'm in the kitchen because that's what happens when you leave the door open."

"Well that's good then," Merlin answered with a smile, "because Gwen won't have to explain all over again. You're taking me to town in your car!"

"Oh joy," Arthur answered dryly, a hand coming up to rub wearily at his eyes. "Just please change into something that isn't rags? I'm not letting you anywhere near my car if you're wearing that."

Gwen tutted at Arthur's choice of words but didn't disagree, so Merlin didn't complain much as he was steered upstairs, especially as it was Arthur's hands, firm against the small of his back, propelling him upwards.

Once Gwen had found some things of Arthur's that might not hang off his skinny frame too noticeably and a pair of the blonde's shoes that actually turned out to be a little small, she left Merlin to change and went downstairs, presumably to check on Morgana.

Merlin had been caught half-way between a smirk and a blush when he'd tried to pull them on and they hadn't fit. He'd even taken off his socks, which had helped a little, but only made Arthur wince.

"Please tell me you're going to wash first," Arthur groaned, trailing behind Merlin as he headed for the bathroom.

"Fucking hell, Arthur," Merlin shot back, rounding on him as he reached the bathroom door. "I get it, all right? I stink, and of course I'm going to wash before I put on your stupid shirt."

As he turned to stalk through the door, Arthur caught hold of his arm. "Look," he said lowly, "this is my house, and those are my clothes. You do not get to talk to me like that, even if Guinevere treats you like a friend already. Just hurry up so we can go." He let go of Merlin's arm, taking a step back.

But the younger man just gaped at him. "You're not much like how I imagined you," he replied in a frank voice, with his head cocked slightly to the side, "you should know, that really sucks." Then he looked away, locking the bathroom door shut.

***

When Merlin traipsed back downstairs, dressed now in jeans, a crisp white shirt, and a thick jumper, Morgana was waiting for him at the bottom, while Arthur and Gwen seemed to be having a quiet argument by the front door as Arthur pulled on his shoes.

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Morgana told him, reaching up to smooth down his collar and looking sceptical-anxious even.

"I really don't think he'll do anything," Merlin spoke with a shrug, "we're just going into town. I can't just stay inside forever."

"It's been one night, Merlin," she reminded him, "and you remember that there's a reason we're on this side of the Wall to start with?"

"Of course I remember." Merlin's voice suddenly turned bitter "But no one would expect us to cross over. We're safe here."

"For now," Morgana murmured, "maybe." She kissed his forehead, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. Then Merlin hugged her back briefly before they were interrupted.

"We're going on a day trip, not on some epic journey."

At that point, Arthur had finally got his shoes on and was now rolling his eyes at the pair of them. In response, Merlin pulled away from Morgana with a shrug and walked over to where Arthur was standing, practically vibrating in his excitement to be going outside. He really was acting like he'd been cooped up for months rather than hours.

Gwen smiled at him fondly then glared at Arthur in a way that clearly said, 'Be nice' and that confirmed Merlin's suspicions that they'd been arguing over him. But he'd only smiled sweetly at Arthur, who'd groaned before pulling open the front door and leading them both out into the snow.

"In," Arthur spoke firmly, pulling open the door to his car and looking pointedly at Merlin.

The younger man hesitated, looking uncertain, before he gingerly clambered inside and settled down wide eyed as he began to stare at everything.

It took a few moments for Arthur to get in beside him and then start up the engine. "Seatbelt," he intoned without even looking at his passenger with his eyes fully set on the road.

"Right," Merlin replied slowly, biting his lip as he searched around for the specified object. It took him a couple of moments to realise it was just behind his left arm, and he twisted to reach for it, flailing right there in the front seat.

By this point Arthur was looking at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "What's wrong with you?" he asked incredulously, while Merlin stiffly buckled himself in, cheeks red.

"I haven't been in a car before!" the other shot back defensively, "'s'not my fault."

At this Arthur swallowed back one of the many scathing retorts that instantly jumped to his tongue, let out a long suffering sigh, and began to drive. Additionally and with great effort, he did his best to ignore Merlin's panicked expression when they turned corners, or how he was leaning as far back in his seat as possible.

It was a ten minute drive into the city centre though, and by the end Merlin was looking a little more comfortable, his gaze flicking alternately between Arthur and the window. In fact, by the time Arthur parked, it looked like he had been beginning to enjoy himself.

"That was awesome," he laughed, grinning as he sat up properly and began fiddling with the seatbelt as he tried to figure out how to undo it. Before long, Arthur leaned over and did it for him, pretending not to notice the way Merlin froze as their fingers brushed and the audible exhale he let out when Arthur moved away again.

"Of course it was," the blonde answered confidently as he opened the car door and got out, smiling when he heard the sounds of Merlin following suit. "It was me driving."

Part 5