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Arthur tugged his thick winter cloak tighter around his shoulders, fingers practically numb even inside his fur-lined leather gloves. His feet felt incredibly heavy as he took laboured steps through the knee-high snow, his sheathed sword rubbing uncomfortably against his leg where it hung from his belt, and to his annoyance his boots were barely keeping the moisture out. The wind was harsh, stinging Arthur’s cheeks where his scarf wasn’t covering, and it was perpetual; bare boughs of the elms and aspens dancing in unrelenting gusts, and even the heavy needled pines swayed, great giants rustling bits of snow from their arms with every creaking lean. The evening sky was scattered with a layer of thick grey clouds, and yet everything, the trees and Merlin trekking just beside Arthur, it was all awash in the last fading rays of the Sun, filtering through the clouds and flitting through branches to flicker occasionally in the prince’s vision. Soon, Arthur knew the inky blackish blue of night would settle itself heavily over all.
Arthur hadn’t seen a winter like this in many years, not since he was a young boy. Even then, he couldn’t recall the winds, or the cold; he only truly remembered the way the snow had piled high against the eastern side of the castle, covering every window of the first floor. It had taken four men on horses drawing large carts to move the snow away. Arthur had a hazy memory of standing in a darkened hallway with Morgana, whispering and laughing in childish glee, as the windows slowly flooded with light again, inch by inch, until at last it was all cleared away, and they could see the men on their horses drawing their filled carts out of the citadel through the fogged glass.
Merlin’s heavy exhale drew Arthur from his memory. He turned, finding his lover kneeling over, arms outstretched to brace his body as he fell forward with a sharp gasp, the snow practically swallowing him up entirely. Arthur might have laughed, if it wasn’t so unbelievably cold, and if he couldn’t hear Merlin shouting his name, muffled as his face was pressed into the snow.
Arthur trudged the few feet to Merlin, bending over and gripping him about his chest with both arms, lifting him to stand again. Merlin’s own cloak and the rest of his clothes were soaked with snow, Arthur could feel it as his chest was pressed to his back.
“I fell.” Merlin whined, his voice low and resigned, before his teeth chattered loudly. Arthur released his grip on his lover, letting Merlin turn to face him. He looked miserable, his face red, wind bitten and wet now, and Arthur’s heart gave a familiar tug. He wanted to hug his lover, to make everything alright, to turn his frozen frown into a smile again. But they were too out in the open for that; too much of a risk. Instead, he just clapped a gloved hand over Merlin’s shoulder, letting it rest there after, squeezing tight.
“We’re almost back to camp, man, I promise,” Arthur soothed, as he let his arm drop and turned back around. He could hear Merlin follow again, his footfalls lighter than Arthur’s, because he always managed to carry himself like a bloody fawn.
“That’s what you said twenty minute ago.” Merlin sounded so indignant, Arthur rolled his eyes in love-sick amusement, glad he was in front, so it wouldn’t be noticed.
“It’s this Goddamn snow, it’s thicker than any I’ve seen before!” Arthur had to raise his voice as a large gust of wind barrelled around them, rattling the trees and shaking more snow free to spatter over their heads. Merlin grumbled something back, too quiet to hear.
“What was that?” Arthur turned his head back for just a moment, and Merlin was scowling at him, his arms crossed tight over his chest, even as he kept trudging forward.
“I said , I still don’t understand why we even needed to come all this way.”
Arthur turned back to face ahead, exhaling deeply, exasperated, because sometimes he swore his lover tried his very best to get under his skin.
“ I told you, this area is known to be a refuge to bandits-- we had to make sure it was clear .”
Merlin just sighed out a weak, “ Don’t see why we couldn’t have just taken horses ,” as he nevertheless sped up to walk closer to Arthur’s side, his arms still crossed over his chest. The Sun was almost completely sunk below the horizon.
---
Arthur had been right. They stumbled their way into camp only ten minutes later, practically running through the snow to get to where the knights had cleared out a large oval, the fire roaring steadily in the center, tents set up on one far end, horses tied to posts at the other. They both collapsed onto one of the empty logs, leaning as close into the warm flames as possible, their clothes dripping, as they caught their breaths. Arthur peeled his damp gloves from his hands, throwing them into his cloak pocket, and he saw Merlin doing the same, as he raised his own hands out, palms facing towards the fire. By now the sky had faded all the way to black, and a light flurry of fresh snow was drifting down to the ground, stirring annoyance in everyone. The little white flecks stood out against Merlin’s dark hair, and Arthur let himself stare for a long moment, reveling in the profile of his lover; his strong jaw, his impossibly sharp cheekbones, adorably large ears, long eyelashes resting gently against his cheeks as he closed his eyes in sleepiness--he was seconds away from slumping over into the wet dirt. Arthur tried to be subtle as he tugged Merlin’s cloak sharply, pulling his body towards himself, so that Merlin leaned all of his weight against Arthur’s side.
“ Oh, look at that, Arthur’s finally done it! He’s finally worked poor Merlin to death!” It was Gwaine, shouting from across the fire, laughing wildly, wrapped up in a large fur covering. Elyan joined in with the laughter, too, sitting just next to Gwaine in his own furs, and the two men’s breath fanned out like steam in front of them, as their shoulders shook with giddiness.
And Arthur couldn’t begrudge them their fun, he figured they could all use a good laugh after enduring such a harsh day traveling in this mind-numbing cold. They still had another day to go until they reached the watch tower that needed assessing, due to the heavy damage from the excessive snowfall. Arthur couldn’t understand why his father hadn’t just sent a party of outer kingdom knights, why Arthur had to lead this trip. Knowing his father, it was likely punishment for something Arthur couldn’t even remember doing. Lately it seemed that everyone was intent on poking Arthur in the places it stung the most. He sighed out a deep breath, eyes closing, focusing on the warm weight of Merlin’s body against his side.
Speaking of stinging, Arthur was glad when Gwaine and Elyan’s laughter trickled away finally. He was feeling his exhaustion settling over him quickly now, and everything felt overwhelming, for some reason. His protective nature was stirring deep in his chest at the implication that he would ever let any harm come to Merlin, a sharp, almost painful sting that threatened to burst from him if he wasn’t careful.
The fire crackled in a pop of orange embers, before the silence of the snowy night resumed once again. The movement of all the knights shuffling towards their tents was slow and drawn out. Arthur’s eyes stayed fixed on the fire.
---
Later, after the fire had simmered to half its original size, Arthur finally made his way to his own tent, dragging Merlin by the arm, in the relative cover of darkness. Inside the tent there was no light at all, and Arthur fumbled around on his hands and knees, feeling for the lantern he knew was around somewhere. He found it, and quickly hurried back outside to light it with the glowing remains of the campfire.
Back in his tent, the lantern cast it’s yellow light against the underside of Merlin’s face, as Arthur set it down on the damp snowless ground. His lover looked weary, his cheeks still stained red from the cold, and Arthur was just glad that his tent kept heat in so well. They looked at each other for a few moments, understanding passing between them wordlessly, as Arthur slowly reached up to tug at one end of Merlin’s scarf, unraveling it from his neck. This scarf was a present from Arthur, given with diffidence after the very first snowfall earlier that month. It was made of soft wool, thicker than Merlin’s usual kerchief. A deep royal red, woven with intricate golden stitchings of leaves. Arthur unwrapped it gently, exposing Merlin’s bare neck like it was his own sacred gift. Merlin reached his deft fingers up to Arthur’s neck then, doing the same with his brown scarf, a small, mousy smile flitting over his roseate lips. Their eyes were holding each other’s gaze softly, noses almost brushing with their closeness.
At long last, with both of their scarves tossed atop Arthur’s small travel chest, the prince let himself melt against Merlin, his arms circling to grasp at the nape of his neck. He felt Merlin’s arms wrap around his waist tightly, underneath his cloak, pressing their bodies together from ankle to chest. Arthur’s face fell into the curve of Merlin’s neck, and Merlin’s did the same, as they silently let themselves relish in what they had been refraining from all day long.
Arthur could suddenly feel the moisture in all of his clothing and hair being wicked away, replaced by a warm tingling sensation that covered both of their bodies entirely,
“Thank you, love,” Arthur said, muffled in Merlin’s neck, and Merlin just hummed, hands rubbing gently over the back of Arthur’s now-dry sweater.
Arthur lifted his head after several comforting minutes, sparing a short glance to the tent's entrance flap, ensuring it was clasped shut, before he let all his attention rest on the man in his arms. He leaned in to kiss Merlin, the heat of his mouth welcoming and safe, as Merlin let his hands slip underneath Arthur’s sweater to drag his nails along his back, making Arthur shiver and chuckle against his lover’s candy-sweet lips.
Neither man could bear to part, not even when Arthur’s legs felt so tired he had to slowly back himself towards his cot, pulling Merlin with him, lowering himself down and dragging Merlin to lay on top of him, taking all of his weight. They only paused for a moment to shed their bulky cloaks, unhooking the clasps and tossing them towards the corner of the tent. Their boots came off after, tugged with an almost desperate haste, thrown to join the growing pile of clothing in the corner. Finally, Arthur reached down and grasped the edge of his thick blanket, which must have fallen from the cot onto the ground, draping it gently over Merlin’s shoulders, and it was large enough to cover Arthur, too.
Now, tucked up in pleasant warmth, Merlin pressed a rosy cheek to one of Arthur’s, his body resting completely on top of his prince. Arthur let his eyes slip shut again as he gently nudged his nose to Merlin’s cheek, not needing words to tell him what he wanted. Merlin turned his face, and Arthur kissed him once more, both of his arms holding him tight underneath the blanket.
It could have been minutes or maybe hours that passed this way, Arthur was unsure. In his exhausted state everything seemed to blur together, until all he knew was Merlin’s delectable mouth parting easily against his own, Merlin’s body, hot and firm all over him, like a fire underneath his hands. The scent of his lover was blissful, just pure Merlin , and Arthur’s head spun each time he breathed him in.
At some point Merlin’s cock began to harden, pressed against Arthur’s hip, and he let out a little whine into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur reached down between them with one hand, slipping his way through Merlin’s many layers of thick clothing to grasp around his stiff manhood, tugging gently, drinking in Merlin’s moans eagerly. And then Merlin reached down to tug at Arthur’s own trousers, undoing the front lacing with ease, before pulling them down just enough for Arthur’s cock to spring free, pressing against Merlin’s.
Arthur shuddered with tingling pleasure, tugging the blanket tighter with one hand around Merlin’s shoulders--they were still covered up entirely, and Arthur didn’t want any of the wonderful heat to escape. He broke the kiss just enough to whisper against Merlin’s lips, eyes still shut heavily, for he was too tired to even lift his lids:
“ D’you want me to take you tonight? ”
Merlin nodded, letting out a quiet and desperate, “ Please, Arthur. ”
His head dropped into the crook of Arthur’s neck, like he couldn’t even hold the weight of it any longer. Arthur knew this would be a gentle fuck, as he drew his hands down to slide Merlin’s trousers and small clothes off fully, letting them get lost under the blanket somewhere. He squeezed Merlin’s rear in both hands, making him gasp softly into Arthur’s neck, as Arthur pressed his nose against Merlin’s temple, while he simultaneously pressed a finger into Merlin’s hole, stretching him gently. It was all touch and sensation from that point on, as both men’s eyes were too tired to open, even as Arthur brought his now three fingers out of Merlin to grip his hips firmly, lifting his body for him to slip his cock inside his lover easily. Merlin keened softly, hands grasping in sleepy fists against Arthur’s shoulders.
After that it was just a give and take, Merlin grinding down to meet Arthur’s upwards thrusts, both men panting softly, Merlin’s cock pressed against Arthur’s stomach, his shirt rucked up to his chest. Everything was hidden under the thick cover of the blanket. But Arthur didn’t need to see to find the spot inside his lover that made Merlin moan unabashedly, his loudest sound all night.
“ Shhh, I know it feels good, baby, I know--” Arthur whispered against Merlin’s hair, his voice drawn out thin; he was feeling almost overwhelmed with pleasure himself. But he couldn’t have any of the knights hearing this. Not just because it risked their discovery; Merlin was his , no one else was allowed to glimpse or hearken the saccharine melody he mewled when he was this needy for Arthur. Merlin just whimpered, and nodded, kissing open mouthed against Arthur’s neck, wetting his skin.
When Merlin’s hips started to stutter with every thrust of Arthur’s, he begged against the red bitten skin, “ A-Arthur-- Ar thur--please, can I?”
Arthur just held him even tighter. He could feel Merlin’s warm tears pooling in the curve of his neck, as his lover’s breath hitched higher, Arthur’s body unrelenting in his movements, rocking up into his lover desperately. Just as Arthur felt his own release building, Merlin’s velvet heat so lovely around him, his body taut on top of him, wholly in Arthur’s care and protection, as warm and inviting as the blanket covering them both, he groaned gruffly against Merlin’s temple, “Fuck --yeah, Merlin, come on, come for me.”
And Merlin came just as Arthur did, his cock spilling over Arthur’s sweater, though neither man could see it as the blanket concealed their bodies so well. Arthur fucked Merlin through his own release, and he bent his head at an odd angle to kiss him while he filled him up, swallowing all of his whines and whimpers like they were sweet wine--like he could get drunk off the way Merlin panted out Arthur’s name, so much like a prayer. He believed he could, in that moment.
“Love you--” Arthur mumbled into Merlin’s mouth, feeling so sleepy and sated with golden, dripping pleasure, “Love you so much, my darling . . .”
Merlin made one of his cute little noises, still so shy sometimes, despite how often they did this. It always made Arthur’s throat tight with desire to hear how much Merlin was affected by him,
“I love-- ah, hngg, Arthur-- love you most,” Merlin said, interrupted as Arthur shifted, still fully inside of him. Arthur opened his eyes, finally, and Merlin was already looking up at him from where his chin was resting on Arthur’s collarbone, the dim golden glow from the lantern catching in the blue of his eyes. He looked magical, ethereal. Soft and warm like a summer breeze, so contrary to the blizzard just outside the tent.
Arthur slipped his soft cock out of Merlin then, falling onto his side, maneuvering his lover so that his back was pressed to Arthur’s chest. He tugged the blanket up as it had slipped down their bodies a bit with their ecstacy, so now it cradled their panting forms fully again. Merlin reached behind himself for Arthur’s arm, under the blanket, drawing it around his own chest. Arthur held him, pulling him tighter against himself, his face pressing into the soft hair of Merlin’s nape, their legs tangled together intimately.
They lay in silence, save for the wind swept snow pelting against the canvas of the tent. Arthur did not think about the grueling journey they would make through the harsh winter landscape tomorrow. He did not think about the danger that their shrouded love threatened.
For their love was too simple to worry over in moments like this. No threat seemed large enough to dispel the warmth that Merlin held over his heart, precious as the bursting of the Sun through the heavy clouds of a December sky. All consuming in moments like now, other times as subtle as the wind is grey.
Arthur slept. He dreamt of the Sun, pushing back the dark veiled cover over tomorrow.