Work Text:
It slipped into their everyday lives without either of them realizing it. It started late in their friendship, once Arthur started noticing the fine details that was his best friend, and it only strengthen as they slipped passed the threshold into lovers. The ritual started when the temperature plummeted and winter made her annual visit to the kingdom of Camelot.
Arthur would awaken without the cheerful greeting of his manservant, the man grumbling while his eyes forcibly slid open. He would throw his legs over the side of his bed and sit as his conscious caught up with him. Slowly, glazed blue eyes appeared coherent as the King of Camelot struggled his way through a haze of sleep.
He would rub his neck as he cursed softly as he toes became numb from the cold of the stone. He would rush to his fireplace, the embers mere whispers as they died through the night. A few logs and some kindling for it to bring it back to a roaring flame. Even years later, Arthur would feel a slight sense of accomplishment for doing so. He would never be able to pinpoint a reason why strengthening a fire gave him pride.
Next, he would venture back to his bed and grab the change of clothes underneath it, along with an old robe of his. He would place them beside the fire before he did the rest of his morning ritual of getting ready for the day.
About halfway through getting dressed was when Merlin would arrive; and, no matter what he was doing, Arthur would appear from behind the changing curtain to welcome him. Merlin would smile softly, quivering in his boots as he tried to get warm. Teeth clattered together loudly as pink fingers and red tipped ears stuck out, begging for warmth.
Arthur would smiled sadly and reprimand Merlin for not getting any warmer clothes before winter hit again. He was stroll up to his shivering lover, the black-haired man saying something witty back but Arthur paid no heed to it. It was all part of the ritual.
He would ease Merlin’s thin jacket off, the rag barely doing any help with the harsh winds. The next item were Merlin’s breeches and shoes, both soaked from stomping through the snow on early morning errands for Gaius. Arthur would gently grasp Merlin’s wrist and wrap him up within the warmed robe, Merlin sighing gratefully.
Then, Arthur would gently gather Merlin’s face, his fingers rubbing over the chilled ears and nose, Merlin shivering as he did so. When Arthur’s thumbs rubbed over Merlin’s eyebrows, the blue eyes always met. The hands would slide down so each held a cheek softly before lips connected. It wasn’t feverish nor a suggestion; but, merely a languid greeting of lovers beginning the day together.
Arthur would return to getting ready for the day while Merlin huddled by the fire, basking in its warmth while he could. Once Arthur was fully dressed, Merlin would mournfully look at the fireplace but stand and begin dressing himself. Arthur would watch with lidded eyes as Merlin slipped on the clothing he laid out earlier. As soon as the last piece of cloth was donned, Arthur would quickly run through the chores of the day for Merlin and his loose schedule.
Merlin would always complain but once he heard the command to return to Arthur’s bedchambers as soon as they were accomplish, a soft smile always graced the servant’s face. With one last kiss, Arthur would head away for his duties while Merlin started on his. The first task Arthur gave him : lay in bed and warm up fully.