Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to BBC Merlin.

Author's Note: I started this particular series last December, and haven't gotten back to it until now—as a number of holiday fics are proliferating the fandom, I figured I'd contribute, as well. For this story, I am hoping to post at least three chapters (it may be a few more), and quite a bit of it will be the typical angst/fluff mix that seems to dominate my fanfiction. I hope you enjoy this holiday treat!

Summary: One heartfelt gift deserves another, and Arthur's gift to Merlin sets off a whole chain of events the warlock is not in the least prepared for...[Intense Friendshipfic]

"Speech"

Personal Thoughts/Memories (Italics)

.:Midwinter's Tidings:.

By Sentimental Star

II: Midwinter's Tidings (Part 1)

UNEXPECTED GIFTS

When Merlin's second (not quite) Yule with Arthur arrived, he was dismayed to learn that they would not even be in Camelot for the holiday.

"Father has decided I need to tour the realm," Camelot's Crown Prince replied with a shrug.

"During Midwinter?" Merlin demanded.

Arthur frowned, and Merlin internally winced at the flicker of hurt that swept across his prince's expression, "I have not ordered you to accompany me, Merlin…"

Unfortunately, Merlin's mouth had yet to catch up with his brain, "I actually have a choice in the matter?"

Arthur's frown deepened, and he turned away to hide his discomfort, "No, as such. But I am sure Gaius can come up with some sort of excuse-"

"Is your father accompanying you?" Merlin interrupted.

Pure disbelief wiped away Arthur's frown (on the positive side, the prince no longer looked quite so upset), "What do you think, Merlin? He has never stepped foot outside of Camelot without first leaving me in charge."

Perhaps Arthur had not meant to sound so bitter, but Merlin heard his tone regardless and frowned, "That settles it, then."

The irritation swiftly returned, and Arthur scowled, "What does 'that' settle?"

Merlin answered the scowl with one of his own, pure determination sweeping across his face, "You are absolutely mad if you think I'll let you go anywhere without me."

Arthur sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. The action, however, did nothing to conceal the hastily smothered gratitude that leapt into his eyes, "Well, at least we have that settled. You aren't afraid of a little cold, are you, Merlin?"

The last vestiges of relief Arthur hid behind his expression rather negated the would-be arrogant smirk he wore. Merlin rolled his eyes, "It isn't the weather I am worried about, Your Majesty," mocking.

Arthur snorted, "Have plans to protect me, have you?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow, answering the widening smirk with one of his own, "Of course. Gods know what you'd get into, otherwise."

He rather expected the open palm that impacted the back of his head—he wasn't so used to how gentle it seemed; fond, even, "Shut up, Merlin."

As such, the rather large smile he wore as he watched Arthur stride down the hall to attend to a few last minute details regarding their midwinter tour could not quite be hidden from the pair of watchful eyes that had come searching for him.

A mittened finger lightly pushed up his chin, "Your heart is showing, my boy. A little too much, if you want the identity of Arthur's gift-giver to remain a secret."

Merlin blushed bright red. "Gaius," he muttered, embarrassed and raising a hand to his face in an attempt to conceal it.

Fondly, Gaius shook his head, lightly gabbing the scruff of his apprentice's neck, "Come along, Merlin—I believe we have a few things to gather before you head out, and a few lessons to give along the way."

Merlin glanced up sharply, "You're not coming with us?"

Gaius chuckled, "Merlin…I know I may not seem it, but I am an old man. I can hardly go traipsing about the countryside in the middle of winter."

"That's just your excuse," Merlin grumbled, feeling far more nervous than he felt he ought.

Gaius smiled kindly, steering them down the corridor towards the physician's rooms, "If it works. We'll set this as a test of your knowledge of field medicine, and take it from there. Try to avoid any unnecessary…ah, complications…in the meantime."

Merlin scowled slightly, knowing that "unnecessary complications" meant complications of the magical kind. "It's not like I ask them to happen," he growled.

Gaius simply chuckled again, and swung an arm around the younger man's shoulders, "I know you don't, Merlin. I just thought I'd encourage you to be proactive about it."

Merlin's frown did nothing other than invite Gaius's laughter to trail them down the hallway.

IOIOIOIOIOI

Three days prior to (not) Yule, Merlin found himself roused from his slumber an hour before dawn by Gaius. A breakfast of (surprisingly) warm porridge later, and Merlin emerged shivering in the courtyard beneath his too-thin cloak.

When he realized he had been the first of their party to arrive, Merlin blew out a breath that hung white in the pre-dawn air. Shivering again, he rubbed together hands that chafed red in the frigid cold and decided to at least make himself useful (it would aid his need for secrecy, too, and might even warm him up in the process).

By the time Arthur arrived in the courtyard, gray light had filtered through the clouds, and two tacked, saddled, and saddle bag-laden horses awaited him. When Arthur stepped off the last stair and found himself greeted by his fully-geared charger's warm, wet nose, the Crown Prince's eyebrows came together with a nearly audible snap.

"Should I be worried?" he questioned, an ironic lilt to his voice that Merlin would have taken affront to had not Arthur's quip carried a rough, not-quite-awake edge.

He eyed the older teenager with an amused smirk, gently patting the neck of a brown mare Stablemaster Jon had lent him for this journey, "I think I'm the one who should be worried, Your Highness. Will you be able to keep your seat?"

Arthur's wordless scowl told Merlin just how awake he was at the moment (barely).

Smothering his chuckle in the crease of his elbow, Merlin reached for the two brown paper-wrapped parcels Arthur carried with him, "Shall I take those before you drop them, my Liege?"

When Arthur all but shoved them into his chest, Merlin scowled, and opened his mouth to snap something rather poisonous at the prince. Arthur chose that moment to suddenly grasp the back of his head and roughly ruffle his hair: "Shut up, Merlin," half-growled, half-snorted, "you can take umbrage with me after you've opened them."

Merlin's mind pulled a perfect blank as he straightened up, a hand automatically going to his head, "What?" breathed dumbly.

Arthur gave him a look that asked if he were really that much of an idiot.

"You're…giving these to…to me?" completely nonplussed.

Arthur's cheeks turned pink, and Merlin was almost—almost—certain the rosy light of dawn wasn't to blame.

Instead of answering, Arthur shoved past him and immediately swung himself up onto his stallion, keeping his back deliberately turned to Merlin, "Father asked Sir Leon to gather the Knights at the Stables for some last minute instructions. I expect you to be properly dressed by the time we're through."

Without waiting for Merlin's objection that he had already dressed, Arthur lightly dug his heels into his charger's sides and clattered across the courtyard's cobblestones with a soft, "Hah!"

He left Merlin standing at the bottom of the steps, baffled and irritated. With an exasperated huff, and an impatient shrug, thinking not-so-charitable thoughts about the prince in question, Merlin set down the bundles to unwrap them.

It soon became abundantly clear that Arthur had not been playing at all. Laid out in front of Merlin were two piles of rather expensive looking clothes: a pair of black velvet gloves lined with dappled brown rabbit fur, and a dark blue, woolen cloak lined with the same.

For a few frozen seconds, Merlin could do nothing but stare at the apparent-gifts, trying to force his mind into some semblance of coherence. He had no idea if this clothing had been commissioned for him, or if it had once belonged to Arthur and no longer fit, but either way, it was clear Arthur intended for him to wear both.

Scrubbing embarrassedly at the moisture that had abruptly wicked out of the corner of his eye, Merlin swiftly donned the cloak, pulling its hood over his head, and pulled on the gloves. Immediately, warmth encased his body and his hands, and Merlin realized the clothing had, at the very least, been tailored—it fit him near-perfectly.

After a moment of gazing unsurely down at his hands, a little afraid to translate what that meant, Merlin swept the crumpled brown paper into the nearest rubbish barrel, and quietly mounted up on his horse.

Perhaps the gentle beast sensed her rider felt a bit overwhelmed, for she quickly set off across the courtyard without a word from him. By the time they had joined Arthur and his Father's Knights, Merlin felt a little more even-keeled, had even come up with a smart retort for the prince, which—at the same time—indirectly, of course—thanked him for the unexpected presents.

It died on his lips the moment Arthur caught sight of him, and hastily turned away to smother the satisfied smirk that appeared on his lips when he took in Merlin bundled up in the gloves and cloak.

With the Knights otherwise preoccupied, Merlin cantered up alongside Arthur's mount and, leaning over, momentarily snagged the reins. Arthur started, his hand caught between the reins and Merlin's own, staring down uncertainly at his manservant's gloved fingers.

When he glanced up, Merlin met his eyes, "Commissioned or tailored?" asked lowly.

It certainly wasn't the sunrise that caused color to fly into the older boy's cheeks, but he, at least, gave an honest answer (perhaps a little too stunned to obfuscate it), "Commissioned."

Merlin's eyes widened. "Arthur-" he began to protest softly, but the Crown Prince simply shook his head and gently broke from Merlin's grip, urging his stallion into a steady trot beside Leon's.

As the other Knights fell into formation around him, Merlin watched Arthur's back, reaching down to touch the saddle bag next to his right knee.

End Midwinter's Tidings (Part 1)