Entry tags:
Merlin - Warmth
Wrote two comment fic type creations in the past few days and forgot to link them here. The first is for Merlin, reposted here so things are all neat and organized and the like.
Title: Warmth
Genre: Mostly Gen, Squinty Arthur/Merlin if you look for it
Length: 555 words
Rating: PG
Synopsis: Sometimes you need a little bit of warmth.
Author’s Notes: For the Warm Fuzzies thread over at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
camelot_fleet.
Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
Edit: The awesomeness that is![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
frigg made a gorgeous drawing from the fic!
~~~~~~~~~~
“It’s... fuzzy,” was all Arthur could say when he was presented with it.
“It’s soft,” Merlin corrected. “And warm, something you need right now.” He picked up the item in question and stretched it out to its full length, spreading his arms wide and allowing the ends to hang loosely from his hands. Before Arthur could protest, he deftly wrapped it around his neck and shoulders, the simple homespun yarn looking out of place against his royal garb.
“Merlin,” Arthur protested, but it came out a muffled mutter. He pulled the scarf down and tucked it under his chin instead of across his mouth, and tried again. “I don’t need you giving me...”
“I didn’t give it to you, my mother did,” he corrected. He adjusted the ends of the thing so it draped just so. “She said she thinks of you as a surrogate son and that no son of hers is going to catch cold on her watch.”
Arthur paused, for once at a loss of words. Son. Her son. He had always wondered what it would be like to have a mother, someone to care and look out for him and want to cuddle him and keep him safe instead of train him and push him out into battle. Someone who would feed him soup when he was ill, or not be afraid to kiss him on the forehead to check his temperature like that one time he caught his father doing, though the king still vehemently denied doing so to this very day.
He was drawn out of his thoughts by Merlin wrapping his own scarf about him, this one in a brilliant blue instead of near Pendragon red. That was the other thing. Hunith would have had to find the dye, possibly make it, soak the yarn and knit it up personally just for him. He fingered the loops and whorls with a newfound respect at the effort that went into it, effort not because he was her sovereign but because he was someone she had decided to adopt into her family and call her own.
He wore the scarf that day, and many others. The winter was cold and the scarf was warm, and possibly not just from the wool as he pictured her smiling face every time he donned it.
When summer came, it found a place of honor in his armoire next to a ring from his mother and the last scrap of his blanket from when he was just a babe. After a particularly horrid day of training, or of council meetings that seemed like they were never going to end, it may have possibly found its way out of the armoire and under his pillow as well. He forgot it only once, and knew Merlin must have found it when he arranged the bedding that day.
That night, when he lay down to finally sleep, he fluffed his pillow and came across something familiarly soft. He pulled it out, confused as he swore he had seen the familiar red returned to the armoire as he had readied himself for bed. A smile lit his lips though, when he pulled it out and found not red but blue in the soft candlelight. With a hum of satisfaction, he pulled it close and drifted off to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Title: Warmth
Genre: Mostly Gen, Squinty Arthur/Merlin if you look for it
Length: 555 words
Rating: PG
Synopsis: Sometimes you need a little bit of warmth.
Author’s Notes: For the Warm Fuzzies thread over at
camelot_fleet.Disclaimer: I do not own this interpretation of the myths and am making no profit from this.
Edit: The awesomeness that is
frigg made a gorgeous drawing from the fic!~~~~~~~~~~
“It’s... fuzzy,” was all Arthur could say when he was presented with it.
“It’s soft,” Merlin corrected. “And warm, something you need right now.” He picked up the item in question and stretched it out to its full length, spreading his arms wide and allowing the ends to hang loosely from his hands. Before Arthur could protest, he deftly wrapped it around his neck and shoulders, the simple homespun yarn looking out of place against his royal garb.
“Merlin,” Arthur protested, but it came out a muffled mutter. He pulled the scarf down and tucked it under his chin instead of across his mouth, and tried again. “I don’t need you giving me...”
“I didn’t give it to you, my mother did,” he corrected. He adjusted the ends of the thing so it draped just so. “She said she thinks of you as a surrogate son and that no son of hers is going to catch cold on her watch.”
Arthur paused, for once at a loss of words. Son. Her son. He had always wondered what it would be like to have a mother, someone to care and look out for him and want to cuddle him and keep him safe instead of train him and push him out into battle. Someone who would feed him soup when he was ill, or not be afraid to kiss him on the forehead to check his temperature like that one time he caught his father doing, though the king still vehemently denied doing so to this very day.
He was drawn out of his thoughts by Merlin wrapping his own scarf about him, this one in a brilliant blue instead of near Pendragon red. That was the other thing. Hunith would have had to find the dye, possibly make it, soak the yarn and knit it up personally just for him. He fingered the loops and whorls with a newfound respect at the effort that went into it, effort not because he was her sovereign but because he was someone she had decided to adopt into her family and call her own.
He wore the scarf that day, and many others. The winter was cold and the scarf was warm, and possibly not just from the wool as he pictured her smiling face every time he donned it.
When summer came, it found a place of honor in his armoire next to a ring from his mother and the last scrap of his blanket from when he was just a babe. After a particularly horrid day of training, or of council meetings that seemed like they were never going to end, it may have possibly found its way out of the armoire and under his pillow as well. He forgot it only once, and knew Merlin must have found it when he arranged the bedding that day.
That night, when he lay down to finally sleep, he fluffed his pillow and came across something familiarly soft. He pulled it out, confused as he swore he had seen the familiar red returned to the armoire as he had readied himself for bed. A smile lit his lips though, when he pulled it out and found not red but blue in the soft candlelight. With a hum of satisfaction, he pulled it close and drifted off to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
no subject