Wintry Calm (so in love with the wrong world) 5/13

[ceeebee]

At first, when he and Morgana had first made it over, Merlin hadn't really been able to appreciate being on the right side of the Wall. It had been too dark to start with, and later on when morning came they had both usually curled up out of sight to sleep.

But now Merlin didn't want to blink in case he missed something. His eyes were open so wide it ached, and he was aware that Arthur was watching him with an amused expression, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Everything he passed he had to touch, his fingers flying over the frosted plants growing in flowerbeds on the pavements, skirting over the snow-capped metal hoods of cars, and every now and then brushing against Arthur's arm.

"Will you stop?" Arthur laughed, catching hold of Merlin's hand when he reached out to feel the handles of a chained up bicycle. In that instant, Merlin stared down at the point of contact between Arthur's skin and his, trying to tell himself that it was stupid for his heart to be beating this fast. Soon enough though, the blonde's smile gradually slid off his face before he quickly dropped Merlin's hand and grumbled, "People are staring."

"At you," Merlin reminded him, mentally shaking himself.

"Yeah well, you're not helping."

"You'd think they'd be used to having you live here by now. They must see you all the time," Merlin mused, unable to stop the grin that came to his face when one woman spotted Arthur, a hand flying to her heart like she was in a bloody novel.

"I don't make a habit of public appearances," Arthur told him, eyeing the woman with undisguised distaste. "And when I do, I'm usually...alone."

"You don't go out with Gwen?" Merlin chanced a glance at him from beneath his lashes. But Arthur didn't even deign to reply, instead continuing to lead Merlin down the street towards a men's clothes shop.

Merlin jogged a little to keep up with the other man's quickening pace, ignoring the pains shooting up his legs every time his feet connected with the floor.

"Why are we going here?" he asked, jostling Arthur as they entered and his mouth falling open as he took in the racks of clothing.

"Merlin." Arthur looked at him. "First, stop gawping. You need to look like you've lived here all your life, for Christ's sake."

At that moment, Merlin snapped his mouth shut. Then Arthur let out a long sigh. "Second, we're here because as far as I'm aware, you don't own any clothes apart from the ones you arrived in and, make no mistake, I will be burning those at the first opportunity. So be good and pick out some things that don't look too horrendous. And don't worry about prices."

The younger man blinked and tried to keep his composure, but it was difficult. Some of the stuff in there looked like it would cost more than Gwaine's whole house, and Arthur had just told him not to worry about the prices.

"Uhm," he mumbled, swallowing.

The blonde pinched the bridge of his nose for a second then muttered, "Completely useless," before striding forwards. "Helena?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Uh, Arthur? I'm Merlin..." he said non-plussed, before a woman strode into view from behind a line of blazers. "Oh."

"Arthur!" Helena beamed, sweeping Arthur into a hug and kissing both his cheeks. Merlin gaped.

"Mouth shut, Merlin," Arthur reminded, pulling away from Helena and spotting him. There was an almost audible click as Merlin closed his jaw, although he continued to stare at the pair of them. He hadn't thought Arthur capable of showing such casual affection.

Helena looked at Merlin with curiosity. "I didn't hear that you and Gwen were adopting, Arthur! You know we don't sell kid's clothes."

Merlin went pink with indignation, while the older man smirked.

"I'm seventeen!" he squawked, but then Arthur was behind him, hands warm and heavy on his shoulders. A second later Merlin couldn't help but let out a frustrated little noise because he was sure that the way his voice had squeaked up an octave hadn't been helpful.

"Merlin's going to be staying with me for a little while," Arthur spoke in a careful tone, "and well, look at him..." he went on, gesturing to the other's profile up and down. "He has potential though, don't you think?"

Helena was obviously still intrigued as to whom Merlin was, but she contemplatively placed a finger on her chin and considered Merlin like he was a particularly interesting bug beneath a microscope.

"Nice cheekbones," she observed while Merlin started squirming under her scrutiny. "Haircut's...questionable. Too skinny. But yes, I think potential is definitely there."

Merlin turned away from her, shame beginning to pool at the bottom of his stomach. He had never gotten over the way clients had sized him up before using him. He knew Helena wasn't them, but having the faults in his appearance pointed out had always made him more than uncomfortable.

He knew he wasn't perfect.

He knew that there were things about his body that displeased people.

He just didn't like to be reminded, especially when it brought back memories of all the times people had tried to fix him: teeth pulling at his ears because they were too big, hands squeezing at his arse because it was too bony...

Arthur seemed to notice Merlin's sudden reluctance because he increased the pressure on Merlin's shoulders for a brief moment before releasing him.

"Good," he replied coolly, and Merlin was surprised by how gentle his voice had sounded. "We'll be stopping at the barber's next, don't worry. Do you have anything for him here?"

"I don't need the barber's," the younger man hissed, horrified by the way he could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. But Arthur ignored him, looking steadily at Helena.

"I'm sure we have some things," Helena answered cordially with a nod, seemingly oblivious to Merlin's distress. "Smaller sizes are towards the back, so you might want to look there."

"Thank you." Arthur gave her a warm smile before steering Merlin in the direction she had suggested.

"Seriously, Arthur," Merlin sighed as he frowned at the clothes for sale, "this is ridiculous. Can't we just pick up something second hand or...I don't know-something that I'd be able to pay you back for at some point in my life?"

"No," the blonde answered, casually picking up a pair of light blue jeans. "Try these on."

They'd been in the shop for about an hour before Merlin finally insisted that they leave. With every item that hadn't fit or that Arthur declared unsuitable, he'd felt himself getting hotter and more frustrated, until even Arthur noticed that there was no point continuing.

"All right, we're leaving," he'd eventually complied, amused when Merlin let out a loud sigh of relief.

With that, Arthur went up to the counter and paid for everything that had passed his inspection as well as discretely snatching up several pairs of boxers and adding them to the mountain of clothes.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Arthur," Helena told him in a hushed voice, as she loaded the clothes into a bag. Merlin was by the doors and too far away to hear her. In any case, he was too busy staring at the floor and scuffing his shoes to be paying any attention.

"I haven't a clue," Arthur admitted before smiling, "thank you."

***

"You hungry?" he asked as they walked back out onto the street.

Merlin perked up a little at that. "Starved," he replied then continued hastily, "but can we just eat somewhere normal, please?"

At that moment, Arthur wrinkled up his nose. "And what's normal for you? We're not about to go scavenging, Merlin."

"I didn't go scavenging," Merlin lied in an instant, "you know I actually had a job. I got paid."

"Oh? What was your job?"

Merlin couldn't tell whether Arthur was genuinely intrigued or not, but he at least looked interested. Not that it mattered though...he wasn't quite prepared to tell the older man about his career choices.

"None of your business," he settled on, annoyed when it came out sounding petulant.

Arthur glanced at him with pursed lips but didn't comment except to say, "Well, I hope a cafe is up to your standards. I could do with a coffee."

***

The cafe was quiet when Arthur automatically headed towards a table at the back, but then Merlin pleaded with him to sit near the window, so he complied if only to get the boy to shut up, and not because there had been something nice about the way Merlin beamed when Arthur caved.

"It's so cool," Merlin was murmuring in awe as Arthur observed how much more relaxed the younger man looked here rather than in the shop.

"What is?" he asked.

"This, here," Merlin sighed, gesturing vaguely about the cafe then towards the window. "It's just so...different."

"I should hope so," Arthur answered, with a shrug, "I'd be worried if you came from the other side and discovered life over here was exactly the same."

"Mmm," Merlin murmured in agreement, still looking out the window. "I just can't imagine growing up here, though."

Arthur considered him for a moment: the way his neck was craned and his nose practically pressed against the glass as he tried to catch a glimpse of everything there was to see.

"Boring," the blonde finally spoke. Merlin shifted then to look at him, frowning. Arthur found himself slowly shaking his head. "Boring and lonely."

There was a long pause. Suddenly, his mouth felt dry and he coughed, wishing he hadn't spoken. Merlin's gaze was penetrating.

Then after a few seconds, Arthur finally brought himself to speak again. "You know what you're going to order?" he asked, relieved when Merlin looked away from him and down at the menu.

"Not yet," he said.

***

Morgana never thought she'd be able to kill somebody until Cenred slumped down to the floor, unmoving with his eyes completely glazed over. And even then, she couldn't quite believe it.

She stared down at his body, her heart thundering in her chest to the point of pain and her mouth hanging open.

There were a few seconds of silence before she lifted her eyes to meet the other woman's: the wife's eyes, which held no sadness in that moment, but only triumph. Relief. Pride.

"Morgause, I'm-" Morgana cut herself off, unsure of what to say. Unsure whether she ought to be begging for forgiveness or awaiting Morgause's gratitude.

"I know what he did," the other told her in a hushed voice, "to Merlin. I'm so sorry."

In that instant Morgana's legs gave way beneath her, and she was stumbling, choking on the air. Morgause darted forwards and caught her, moving until they were both sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning into one another.

"Thank you," Morgana breathed, eyes closed as she rocked back and forth and Morgause's fingers tangled in her dark curls as they held on.

"He hurt him," she whispered against Morgause's chest, like she still couldn't comprehend it. "He hurt Merlin."

"I know." Morgause looked over at her dead husband's body, smothered in so much tacky black leather. "But he'll never hurt anyone again, and now nobody stands in our way. Oh- Morgana."

The younger woman twisted slightly in the other's arms, so she could look at her face. "What do you mean 'nobody stands in our way'? Way of what? Morgause, what-"

"Shhh..." Morgause murmured, softly pressing a kiss to Morgana's forehead. "He wouldn't let me tell you. I'm so sorry-but I can now..."

"Tell me what?" Morgana tugged fully away from Morgause, who was now biting her lip and looking pained. "What wouldn't he let you tell me, Morgause? Please, what was it?"

The older woman reached forwards to brush a thumb across Morgana's cheek, feeling something suddenly tighten in her chest because it had never been her intention to fall in love with Morgana. That unexpected detail had never been part of the plan.

"I know who your father is," she said softly after a minute, watching Morgana's face closely for her reaction. But there was none, apart from a slight widening of the eyes and a quiet intake of breath.

"Who?" Morgana spoke just above a hushed whisper and leaned almost imperceptibly closer, her question laced with both curiosity and reluctance.

"Uther," Morgause replied in a steadfast voice before she could convince herself that she shouldn't, "Uther Pendragon."

In response, Morgana blinked slowly, a frown making itself known across her pale face that seemed almost sickly in the dimly lit room.

"What?" she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. "What-no! He's not my...Uther?"

"Shhh," Morgause swiftly cut in, taking Morgana's hand with pleading eyes. "Don't you see how perfect this is? Morgana, your father is ruler of Camelot. You have rights. You-"

"No," Morgana abruptly answered, although it was more uncertain than before. "Morgause, you're wrong. How could you even know that?"

"Because..." She paused for a second then lowered her gaze with a solemn expression on her face. "Because I knew your mother, Morgana. She told me she had a daughter, and...I can just tell."

"You knew my mother?" the other girl blurted, staring incredulously at her. "Who was she? Where is she? Morgause, what...?"

"I'm so sorry" Morgause spoke softly, pulling Morgana back into her arms. "She passed away before I ever met you, but you look just like her. She told me that after she had you, she left you to protect you. She thought Uther would try to find you, and she didn't want that. She knew..."

"What did she know?" Morgana was breathless, lips against Morgause's neck.

"That you would be different. Special. Magic. She couldn't let Uther have you."

It made sense, Morgana supposed. All of it made sickening sense, but Morgause's body was soft and warm against her, and she just wanted to sink into her touch and lose herself in the fabric of the other woman's nightdress.

"So what now?" she asked, sighing when Morgause moved her so she was lying on her back, thighs spread to accommodate her.

"I have a plan," Morgause whispered. At this point, her hands were everywhere, and Morgana felt as if she was melting: spiralling into something hot and uncontrollable.

"Tell me," Morgana hissed back, and this time it sounded almost like an order. Morgause could have laughed at how perfect it was-her whore of a sister turning into a queen right before her eyes.

"You have a brother," she murmured, pushing up Morgana's skirt and gently stroking the skin beneath. "Arthur."

"Yes," Morgana breathed, her head tipping back as she panted, thrumming with arousal.

"He is older than you..." she continued in that same hushed, slightly sinister voice. "The next in line when your father dies. But, if Arthur dies..."

Morgause's plan was devastatingly simple, and Morgana felt her orgasm shudder through her with a choked off cry.

"You want me to kill him," she exhaled, sighing when Morgause withdrew her hand and lay down beside her with her fingers resting on the slighter girl's belly.

"Go to him first," Morgause chuckled, "oh God, Morgana, I have waited so long to tell you. I know a spell strong enough to send the whole of Camelot to sleep." As she spoke, Morgana was manoeuvring herself up and straddling Morgause's waist. "it takes a few months to mature, but when it is ready, it'll be so easy."

"You have been thinking about this a lot," Morgana observed, still tingling from her recent orgasm and the adrenaline that came with the knowledge that she wasn't who she had been an hour ago. She was grappling with the idea of being important. It would take many more nights like this to completely convince her that it was all real, that Morgause and her words and her plans weren't all just dark dreams laced with desire.

"Yes." Morgause took Morgana's hand, pulling it down between her legs and groaning when the younger girl obediently slipped inside. "Yes, and when they're all sleeping, no one can stop us."

At that moment, Morgana watched Morgause, her chest rising and falling as she worked her open and her teeth biting into her bottom lip. She could only resist for a moment before she was leaning forwards and kissing her, dark hair hanging down either side of their faces and closing them off from the world.

They stayed like that for a while until Morgause came, and Morgana's hands moved up her body, fingertips swirling around prominent hipbones then cupping her breasts through the satin.

"What about the others?" she asked quietly, eyes glinting in the dark.

"Who?" In the next second Morgause was frowning, unable to properly process her half-sister's question when all she could feel was a heavy bliss.

"Merlin and Freya and Gwaine," Morgana replied then released Morgause, sliding from her and getting up from the bed. Suddenly she was just a girl again. "I can't leave them."

Morgause sat up, watching as Morgana glanced in the mirror and distractedly pushed her hair behind her ears. A few feet away, Cenred's body lay pale and heavy on the floor.

"They'll hold you back." Morgause got to her feet, moving until she was just behind Morgana and placed a hand against her neck, feeling her pulse point beating beneath her fingers.

"They won't." Morgana murmured, shaking her head.

"Not even Freya?"

At this, Morgana swallowed hard. "I have to take them with me, if I go."

Morgause considered her response for a moment. "Fine," she consented, "but you cannot tell them who you are, or what you plan to do."

"I wouldn't." Morgana slowly shook her head, thinking of how much Merlin adored Arthur. It suddenly occurred to her that it might actually be kinder to leave him behind. Would he ever forgive her if she did this?

But the thought of being somewhere Merlin wasn't filled Morgana with an indescribable dread, and she realised she was far too selfish to cross the Wall without the boy who had inexplicably become her everything.

Morgause was now taking her downstairs before she finally opened the front door for her.

"What will you do with...about Cenred?" Morgana spoke in an uncertain tone.

"Don't worry about that," Morgause sighed as she pressed a final kiss to Morgana's lips, "you did the right thing."

"When will I see you again?" Morgana asked her when she broke away.

"When it is time for Arthur to die," Morgause promised, looking straight into her eyes. "I will send for you. Hold on till then."

"I will." Morgana smiled and then, "I can't believe any of this is real."

"I know," the other assured her, "but you've got to. You're our last hope, Morgana. You're going to save us all."

And neither of them noticed the figure watching them: the man at the corner of the street with his heart in his throat. Lance's ears hummed with the conversation he had overheard, and it was a few moments before he came to his senses for long enough to start running.

***

When Morgana got back, Merlin stood so abruptly that he almost knocked his chair over. Gwaine moved with him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and trying to guide him back to his seat. But Merlin only shook him off and took a faltering step closer to Morgana. Even Freya was watching her, peeking from over the back of the sofa.

"It's done," Morgana muttered shortly. At this Merlin sagged a little, a hand lifting to run through his hair, but didn't say anything. It was only very rarely that he was lost for words, but now he felt as though something solid was lodged in his throat, and he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Are we safe?" Gwaine asked after a moment.

Morgana hesitated, thinking about how if Morgause had actually loved her husband, the Authorities would be slamming their hands against the front door at that moment. But as it was, there was silence.

"Yes," she brought herself to reply in as steady a voice as she could manage, "Morgause is sorting it. Cenred wasn't very well liked. He...he won't be missed." She tried to ignore the way something darkened in Merlin's eyes when she looked into them. He looked disappointed. In her.

Suddenly, she was filled with the strangest urge to apologise to him before remembering that Cenred had gotten everything he deserved...and who was Merlin to judge her? She had done it for him after all.

"I'm going to sleep," she spoke stiffly, and for a moment she thought Merlin would just let her go. There was some sort of tenseness, an uncomfortable silence, and then:

"Hang on-let me get the kitten." Morgana gave a tiny smile when Merlin shuffled across the room and laid a hand on Freya's head, rubbing gently until she was looking dazedly up at him.

"Hey," she beamed back at him, poking out her tongue before yawning. Merlin grinned back, moving around the sofa to pull her to her feet and opening his arms so she could slot herself in the space there to press her face against his chest. It was at times like these where it was impossible to believe that she was actually older than he was, when the only noises she made were soft purrs of content.

"Bed," he said quietly, and Freya nodded, her hair brushing against his chin.

Gwaine soon moved to take the space on the sofa that Freya had just vacated, letting his head fall into his hands as Merlin, Freya and Morgana walked to their room. He would go check on them in an hour or so, to make sure they were all comfortable and maybe even asleep already. After that, he'd wait with one eye straying to look out the window every few minutes until the moon was high, and familiar keening sounds reached his ears.

Over time, he had gotten good at extracting Freya from the others, even though she liked to sleep in the middle. He would have to be extra careful that night though because it would be inexcusable to jostle Merlin when every expression he made had screamed pain.

A groan built at the back of Gwaine's throat, and for a moment he fought to suppress it until he just couldn't anymore. But what came out was more like a sob and before he knew it, he was curled on the sofa crying into his fists.



Merlin could feel Arthur's eyes on him as he stared down at the menu, trying to make the squiggles on the paper form into something that he could understand. The only thing that made sense to him was the small picture of a snowflake in the bottom right corner, so he found himself concentrating on that instead while chewing the inside of his cheek.

"I can't pick," he sighed eventually, putting the menu down and avoiding the blonde's gaze.

Arthur frowned. "There isn't even that much to choose from!"

At this Merlin merely shrugged and knew that the other was practically pouting.

"I can't," he insisted, wondering why he was so reluctant just to tell Arthur that he couldn't read. It wasn't like it was exactly his fault.

"Why not?" Arthur pressed, ducking his head slightly to try and get Merlin to look at his face.

"Because..." Merlin squirmed a little on his seat before sighing heavily. "I can't read it, all right? I don't know what's on the menu."

Arthur didn't say anything for a moment until the waitress was finally there, asking for their order. But he still kept his eyes on Merlin when he asked for two chocolate croissants, a coffee, and a hot chocolate. When she left them, he leaned forwards slightly with his elbows on the table.

"You didn't go to school?" he asked in a careful voice.

Merlin only shrugged again. "There was no point. It was a choice between learning and eating. I would do the same again, if I had to." In a split second, his voice had taken on a defensive edge, the flush on his cheeks making his eyes seem bright.

"And how did you get this food? I trust you haven't been working since the moment you were born."

"Why are you asking me?" Merlin shot back with a challenging glare, "you know I stole it."

Arthur nodded slowly. "I'm not judging you," he replied evenly.

Merlin snorted. "Right. As if you haven't been judging me since the moment you saw me on your doorstep."

"I'm not judging you for this," Arthur corrected himself, and Merlin rolled his eyes.

"I hope you're not expecting me to thank you for that," Merlin told him shrewdly, "because I wasn't apologising. If society wasn't so fucked, kids wouldn't have to quit education just to survive."

"I know," the blonde answered curtly.

Merlin looked out of the window, reaching forwards to draw in the condensation on the glass: long twisting swirls which went on in endless circles. "The Wall should come down," he murmured quietly, applying further pressure to the window and making water drag down around his fingers, slipping across the glass.

"I know," Arthur repeated, and Merlin blinked in surprise, hand falling back into his lap as he stared at him.

"You do?"

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, although not entirely sure what he was going to say, but then they were interrupted by the waitress' return. She smiled warmly at Arthur, who spared her a glance and a nod, before setting down the mugs and plates. Merlin reached for the drink first and looked eagerly into it.

"It smells so good," he positively moaned, and Arthur shifted in his seat.

"I thought you'd prefer hot chocolate to coffee," the older man told him as he reached for his own mug.

"Why?" Merlin asked, blowing across the top of his cup and watching his breath cut through the steam.

"It's sweeter," Arthur replied, and Merlin's smile was dazzling.

***

The arrival of the food had effectively brought an end to their discussion on the Wall, and Arthur spent the next fifteen minutes berating Merlin for dipping his croissant in his hot chocolate, while the other, who still seemed very much like a kid at heart, refused to be put off.

"It tastes better like this," he insisted, and Arthur could do nothing but sigh and watch as Merlin murdered his meal. It was worth it though, he decided, when Merlin took a bite and his expression instantly grew dreamy, as though he might just melt into a chocolatey puddle on the floor.

"Where do you want to go next?" the blonde asked once the other had finished and was now lapping at the joints between his fingers for any smears of chocolate or crumbs he might have missed, in a way that was not at all distracting. Merlin shrugged, wrapping his hands around his mug even though it was empty, presumably for the warmth which still resided in the porcelain.

"I don't want a haircut," he suddenly began firmly, the instant Arthur was about to make his own suggestion.

This led him to hesitate. "Surely it must annoy you, getting in your eyes like that?" The moment he said it Arthur regretted it, especially when Merlin sunk against his chair back looking suddenly morose.

"I don't want a haircut," the younger man repeated, arms moving to fold over his chest.

"Fine then." Arthur lifted his hands in defence, a little alarmed at Merlin's stubbornness.

He looked at Arthur for a moment before giving a little roll of his eyes and adding in a softer tone, "Sorry. I just...I don't like it when people tell me how I should look."

"Fair enough," Arthur replied almost instantly, now painfully aware of how he had been orchestrating Merlin's appearance since he had arrived. "We'll just go look round some of the other shops then, yeah?"

"Yeah." Merlin's lips twitched. "Okay."

***

Morgana stood by the front door for a few moments after Merlin and Arthur had taken their leave before she felt a hand on her arm and flinched automatically, tugging free of Gwen's grip.

"Sorry," Gwen muttered quickly, taking a step back. "I just, uhm...well, you still haven't really eaten."

For an instant, Morgana felt like snapping and saying that this was something she was already aware of, but she held back the retort and made do with a shrug instead.

"Merlin really did eat all the eggs," Gwen sighed, sounding unjustly forlorn. "But if you want, we can buy some more? I usually do the food shopping anyway, and we wouldn't need to go all the way into the city centre or anything. There's a supermarket in walking distance...it takes about two minutes." She smiled hopefully, and Morgana felt herself relax.

Whatever Arthur was, and whatever Morgana's plans were concerning him, Gwen made her feel safe: safe to be around, safe to talk to. Or maybe she was just stupid. Either way, Morgana almost felt bad considering the call she was awaiting from Morgause, which would be the run up to her abusing Gwen's trust in a way that could be considered unforgivable.

"Supermarket sounds good," she said eventually, trying for a small smile that made the other grin in response.

"Awesome," Gwen beamed then looked down at Arthur's dressing gown, which she was still swamped in. "I just need to get changed."

"Yeah," Morgana agreed, plucking at the pyjama top. "Me too."

"Right, well I'll leave some things on your bed if you want to have a bath or whatever first. Just pick what you want to wear."

With that Morgana followed her back upstairs and slipped into the bathroom while the other went to rummage through her wardrobe.

***

The bath was long and deep with shiny silver taps that reflected the yellow lighting. Morgana had already decided that the whole room reminded her of butter: soft and golden with towels piled up in stacks beside the tub.

It took her a few minutes to figure out the bath, twisting and pulling at the taps until hot water was splashing loudly against the bottom and swirling towards the plughole. Then it became a game of trying to get the plug in without scalding herself. It didn't work well, so by the time she was done, she was already soaked up to her elbows.

In the end, Morgana filled it up too high with hot water to be able to cool it down properly with the cold, and the heat in the little room was sweltering to the point of unbearable. But then she was sliding into the bath, and the water was looping lazily around her throat. At this point, it actually felt pretty damn perfect. After steeling herself for a few minutes, she sunk down beneath the surface, keeping her eyes wide open. She didn't have long to enjoy the view of the room though, shimmering above her, before the water got up her nose and she sprang back, spluttering and gasping.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered, rubbing at her nose and coughing. After that, she didn't submerge herself completely again but still managed to get her hair so that it was dark and sopping, clinging to her back. The shampoo was new for her too, and she knew that she must look like a wide eyed child when she poured it into her hands and watched as it swirled on her palm. Back home washing had meant a basin in the bedroom, filled with lukewarm water, and a cracked bar of soap that was used to wash body and hair alike.

It took reading the instructions on each bottle carefully to find out which was used for which, and by the time she was finished, the bath water was grey and shot through with streaks of purple and green and pink from the various soaps, as well as fluffy with bubbles.

When Morgana got out of the water, her body was pink from the heat and the scrubbing, and she quickly snatched up a towel to cover herself up, nervously using it to rub through her hair in an attempt to stop it from dripping onto the tiled floor.

After much slipping and sliding, and some swearing, she made it back to the guest room before shutting the door behind her and dropping her towel with a small sigh. Her body was still damp and warm, but the water was no longer rolling off her, and she felt safe to walk without creating a trail of bubbles in her wake.

Waiting for her on the bed were several items of clothing, all presumably belonging to Gwen, or at least they had belonged to Gwen at some stage in her life. Morgana found herself smiling in spite of herself when she realised that Gwen had stuck post-its on each item, telling Morgana what she thought went with what and, on a pair of shorts: For whenever summer gets its arse into gear.

At this, she snorted a little and picked up the shorts, which were very short, and wondered if Gwen honestly thought she would still be here in the summer.

In the end she chose a black dress and tights with a soft, hooded grey jacket. It probably wouldn't be warm enough, but Morgana was sure Gwen would find her a coat or something anyway, and there was nothing else black that had been laid out for her. For a moment, as she picked up the dress, she could hear Morgause's voice by her ear, telling her how the colour suited her. At that that she instinctively started to shake the outfit out and prepared to pull it over her head.

Just as she was lifting it though, there was a knock on the door, and when she heard it open slightly, Morgana spun around to see Gwen, whose mouth was hanging open as she backed out quickly.

"Oh my God," she gasped with wide eyes. "Sorry, I thought you were still in the bathroom-" Before the other could say anything in reply, she'd shut herself back out in the corridor, leaving a perplexed Morgana staring after her.

She couldn't remember the last time a girl had been so quick to leave after seeing her naked body. She dressed swiftly after that, fumbling only for a moment with the tights as she struggled to pull them up when her legs still weren't completely dry. Once they were on, she pushed her wet hair off her face and left the room.

Gwen was waiting for her then, cheeks slightly pink. "I'm so sorry," she started again, floundering. "I didn't mean to walk in-"

"It's fine," Morgana reassured her with a smile to show her just how okay it was, "I was actually just wondering if you had a brush or something?" In truth, she really hadn't been wondering anything of the sort. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd brushed her hair, but she wasn't sure she wanted to hear any more of Gwen's apologies either.

Gwen seemed grateful for the change of subject though and immediately beamed, "Of course! There's one in my room, hang on," before practically running back to her bedroom.

For a brief moment, Morgana surprised herself by finding her eyes drawn to Gwen's behind and then down to her bare ankles and feet as they padded across the floor.

There was no denying that Gwen was beautiful: there was just something effortlessly charming in the way she moved and spoke that gave Morgana the mad impulse to scoop her up and hold her. Protect her. It was that same kind of feeling that she reserved only for Merlin and Freya-or perhaps it was something she felt around a person who was nothing but good and who didn't deserve anything bad to happen to them ever. She was still contemplating this when Gwen returned, brush in hand, and offered it to her.

"Thanks," Morgana grinned as she gratefully took it and, while Gwen watched, tentatively brought it to her head. In a split second however, she found herself almost being tugged downwards and felt about twenty hairs being yanked from her scalp. "Ow, oh my God!"

"Are you all right?" Gwen seemed to automatically reach forwards, fingers momentarily brushing against the other's hand.

"Yeah," Morgana sighed as she finished pulling the brush down, wincing when it finally became free. "That was like torture though."

At this Gwen hesitated, hand hovering at waist level now. "If you want," she began to offer in a tentative voice, "I can do it for you?"

Morgana blinked, taken aback. "Huh?"

Gwen shrugged. "I used to be a maid," she spoke with a grin, but the smile faded quickly. "I mean...your hair's really lovely, and I can help. To make it less torturous."

Morgana pondered for minute, finding it surprisingly easy to imagine Gwen working in a big house for some woman and combing their hair and cleaning their house and running their baths. What was even more surprising though was the stirring of jealousy she felt at that point, at the bottom of her stomach when she wondered who it was that Gwen had worked for.

But she decided against asking. "You can, if you want." she ended up answering cordially with a shrug, trying to not to let on how much she would need help to make her hair look like anything but a mess of tangles. But Gwen's smile was full of delight, and Morgana laughed when an eager hand grabbed hers before she was suddenly dragged into Gwen's room and sat down in front of a mirror.

With Gwen brushing her hair, Morgana hardly even felt the expected pain. The woman behind her talked nonstop, and she was content to just sit there and listen, strangely comforted by the gentle tug of the brush and the feel of Gwen's hands at the base of her skull as they skirted across the skin around her ears. Although by the time it was over, Morgana soon found out that Gwen had, in fact, worked for Arthur since she was a little girl, and instead of being sated, the jealousy in her spiked unpleasantly.

"When did you start going out?" she had asked, trying not to seem too curious but watching Gwen closely in the mirror.

Gwen had shrugged. "We never really...went out. It kind of just happened. When Arthur moved out, it just sort of made sense that I went with him. I've basically lived with him all my life."

"And you love him."

It was a statement, but Gwen seemed to interpret it differently, because she answered:

"He's been there almost for as long as I can remember. How can I not love him?"

Morgana didn't point out that it was quite possible to know someone all your life and hate them just the same, but there was something in the way Gwen had spoken: an edge of confusion and bitterness, which stopped her. She guessed that Gwen already knew what she had been going to say, anyway.

"Done!" Gwen stood back from Morgana when she was finished, beaming at her in the mirror.

Morgana tentatively smiled back and reached up to touch her hair, which now ran in soft waves down her back and over her shoulders, dark and shiny. "Thank you," she murmured as she ran her fingers through it.

"Any time," Gwen assured her but then started to chuckle, saying, "come on. I've been listening to your stomach for the last half hour."

As she spoke, Morgana's belly seemed to agree by growling embarrassingly loud, and at this she immediately blushed.

"Er...right, yeah. Let's go."

***

Merlin slipped almost instantly on the first step he took outside the cafe.

Arthur had a brief moment of panic, where he envisioned the boy sprawling on the floor and drawing a hell of a lot of unwanted attention, before he reached out and steadied him, with a firm hand to his upper arm.

"Careful," he grumbled once Merlin had found his footing.

"Sorry," Merlin replied jovially, taking more delight than appropriate from the fact that Arthur had grabbed him. "I'll do my best not to fall flat on my face and embarrass you."

But the blonde only rolled his eyes and shrugged past him, marching off down the street. Merlin caught up quickly and proceeded to trot along at his side, gawping at everything. Surprise, surprise,the blonde sarcastically thought to himself, slowly shaking his head.

"My hands are cold," he complained after a moment, and Arthur glanced at him to see his hands were hanging at his sides.

"Put them in your pockets then," Arthur muttered, pretending not to see the other pout as he buried his fists into the pockets of his jeans. What had Merlin expected anyway, for him to hold them? They kept on walking in relative silence then, until the first snowflakes came down.

At this the younger man looked up and made a little squeaking noise when one of them landed on his forehead.

Arthur cast him a wry look. "Surely you're used to snow by now, Merlin."

"Yeah but," he started to say before he stuck out his tongue like he was a five year old, "it's still cool. And it's the only thing that's the same."

"What do you mean?" The blonde ducked his head as the snowfall became steadily heavier, blowing violently around the pair of them.

Merlin shrugged. "It snows just the same over the Wall as it does here."

"But no two snowflakes are the same," Arthur reminded him, "so they'll always be different, wherever they are."

"I guess..." Merlin gave another shrug, pulling his hands out from his pocket and stretching out his fingers then grinned when they landed on his alabaster skin and stayed there, perfectly frosted.

"How are they not melting?" Arthur asked upon noticing this and was momentarily distracted as he held out his own hands, watching as the flakes dissolved upon contact with his skin.

"Your hands are probably just warmer than mine," Merlin chuckled softly without looking at Arthur. A second later, the snow on his hands turned into little droplets of cold water, and the faint glow that had resided in Merlin's eyes faded into something unnoticeable.

"Put yours back in your damn pockets then," Arthur groused before leading them across the street.

"What's the point if we're going inside?" Merlin asked, as they turned into another shop.

"Shut up," Arthur told him, but the response was decidedly half-hearted.

It was a bookshop.

"Why are we here?" Merlin asked, ignoring Arthur's instruction and still standing on the welcome mat.

"Just because you can't read, doesn't mean you can't appreciate a good book," the blonde sighed, picturing the other's curious blue eyes staring closely at the back of his head. "Can you not just stand there, please? It's bad for business, having a scrawny thing like you blocking the entrance."

At first Merlin glared at him but otherwise seemed to take the insult in his stride. Or at least, he understood that Arthur wasn't being serious.

"I do appreciate books," he admitted, as Arthur led him further into the shop. His fingers trailed lightly over the spines as he thought back to when Gaius had sat him on his knee and read to him as a child. He could remember leaning back against the old man's chest and hearing his voice rumble through him, as he pressed small hands to the pictures on each page. For the second time that day, Merlin felt his eyes begin to water, and he rubbed at them angrily.

"Are you all right?" Arthur was looking at him with some concern, when his hands fell away from his eyes.

"Yeah," he murmured a little gruffly, "'I'm fine."

"Hmm..." Arthur was biting his bottom lip, and Merlin couldn't help but find the simple quirk endearing. "We can go, if you want?"

"No," Merlin replied, shaking his head. "I don't want to." He swallowed then looked about for something to cover up his moment of weakness. "Are there any picture books?" he added, clearing his throat.

At that moment, the blonde's worried expression turned smoothly into a smirk.

"Picture books? Really?"

"Well, how else am I supposed to enjoy a book?" Merlin asked crossly before stalking away to see if he couldn't find the kids' section by himself. Arthur watched him for a second, before smiling and following behind.

In the end, it was the magazine rack that Merlin found first and made a beeline for-and Arthur was surprised when the younger man seemed to know what he was looking for when he instinctively picked up the latest copy of Camelot Now. The blonde wasn't even sure why anything about Merlin surprised him anymore when God knew he'd only known him for about a day.

But he wondered if the boy hadn't realised that he had followed him, because after a furtive glance left and right, he was slipping the magazine up beneath his jumper.

There was a moment when Arthur was walking forwards, inches away from grabbing Merlin and demanding he put the magazine back before dragging him out of the shop. However, in the next split second he hesitated, feeling as if something inside him was breaking at the sight of Merlin when he wrapped his arms around his waist and hugged there tightly, as if he were protecting what was underneath.

Arthur took a slow breath. "Ah, Camelot Now," he sighed, reaching past Merlin and plucking a copy of the magazine up, causing the other to flinch in surprise.

"You read it?" Merlin asked, his grip around his waist tightening slightly.

"Sure," Arthur lied easily, "all the time."

Merlin lifted an eyebrow. "You do know that it's pretty much dedicated to you and the other Knights of Camelot, right?"

Arthur had in fact known, but for some reason he'd been counting on the fact that Merlin wouldn't. "Well, who doesn't like seeing a poster of their own face, blown up to about five times its average size and then plastered across a two page spread?"

"Right," Merlin began, shifting uncomfortably, "so you're gonna buy it?"

"Yup...I'll lend it to you, if you want." Arthur flashed him a wide grin.

Suddenly the other man felt a little wobbly on his feet. He knew that Arthur had worn braces when he was younger, but they had somehow failed to straighten out a slight crookedness in his teeth. It was a tiny imperfection that made Merlin's heart swell with affection, and it was round about then that he realised that no matter how much of a prat Arthur might be, Merlin had been too far gone before he had even met the guy. There honestly was no going back now.

"Okay," he muttered softly, even though he was pretty sure Arthur didn't read Camelot Now. It wasn't even a good magazine, and he only knew what it was called because of all the times people in the newsagents had flicked through it, reading snippets aloud in scornful voices, when all Merlin wanted to do was tear out the pictures. Perhaps Arthur had seen him looking at it, with no doubt a slightly wistful expression. It was either that, or he knew Merlin had in fact sneaked away a copy...he really hoped Arthur hadn't noticed. With every moment he could feel his face growing hot at the thought, so when Arthur moved off towards the counter, he returned it to the rack, quick as a flash.

The minute that the blonde heard the sounds of Merlin slipping the magazine back, he felt something warm expanding in his chest as he paid.

***

"So, I presume you get these for the pictures," Arthur smirked as he waved Camelot Now underneath the other's nose as they left the shop with a smug expression on his face.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Arthur, I asked if you would fuck me this morning. It's not like I'm keeping it a secret how I feel about you...about the way you look anyway," he amended quickly before the older man could go on and enlarge his head.

Arthur didn't seem to like being reminded about Merlin's proposition earlier that day though, because his mouth downturned slightly at the corners. "You're just a kid," he muttered, running the hand that wasn't clutching the stupid magazine through his hair. "I mean, it's not like I expected you to be a bloody virgin or anything, but-"

"I'm not 'just a kid'." Merlin was red to the tips of his ears. "And who I sleep with is my business."

Arthur looked at him, but didn't say anything more as they neared where his car was parked. It set him on edge, thinking about him on the other side of the Wall with other men. Who had Merlin slept with? Who was Morgana to him? Why the hell was Merlin here in the first place, shoving his way into Arthur's life and establishing himself so efficiently that Arthur was already having trouble imagining what it would be like when he left?

He watched as Merlin clambered into the car before getting in himself and gripping the steering wheel.

"If you're planning on staying with Guinevere and me for any amount of time, you're going to have to explain yourself to me, and I mean everything," he began slowly, "I want to know who you are and who Morgana is. I want to know what you did before arriving at my house and how the hell you got over the Wall without Passes."

At this Merlin leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes, and Arthur noticed, with a funny pang, that he had put his seatbelt on himself without difficulty.

"You can just keep on wanting then," was the soft reply.

Arthur sighed. It was what he had expected. "Fine." He started up the engine on the car, already uncomfortably aware of how there was no way he would chuck Merlin out until he knew it was safe, and of how apparent it was that Merlin was aware of this idea, too. "But when we get home, I'm teaching you how to read."

Part 6