Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

Running faster than he ever had before, a slight young man tore through the city square, weaving between the familiar faces going about their evenings. Some were shopping, some gathering for meals, others simply enjoying time together with their families. They laughed and talked like it was any old Tuesday, as if their world wasn’t minutes away from turning on its head.

They had no idea what was coming.

He should tell them, he should warn them.

He can’t. 

He had to get to the Sweeps.

He had to tell them what happened.  

Turning a corner too quickly, the man’s feet hit a patch of ice and slid out from under him. He flailed for a moment before focusing a burst of his magic to his shoes to right himself. When he found his footing again, he ascended the side stairs two at a time, pushing his shoulder into the trick door at the top to force it open. He paused just for a moment, long enough to catch his breath and check his surroundings. 

Left or right, he could not remember the way to The Chamber of Sweeps, he’d only been in The Hall twice, once on a field trip in his early school years and again when he was sworn to his responsibilities as a guard. Choosing at random, he took off toward the door to his right. It opened as he approached, revealing the cavernous marble room of the Sweeps. He made it about three steps into the room before something invisible held him back, causing a grunt to escape his lips. Suddenly, nine scowls were trained on him and he felt a bead of sweat roll down his back as he swallowed dryly.

“My lords.” He addressed the Sweeps, his voice surprisingly hoarse.

“Get on with it, boy.”

“What do you have to say that you think is important enough to invade this space with no invitation?”

Lifting his chin, he cleared his throat and shared the grim news.

“He’s gone.”

Several gasps filled the room as several Sweeps stood and shouted questions back at him.

“What do you mean?”

“How could that be?”

“Explain yourself!”

The man at the center of the long table cleared his throat, magically amplifying it to quiet the rest of the Sweeps. When the room once again quieted, he inclined his head slightly to the young man to continue.

“Santa is dead.”

Chapter Text

“Hello? Shit-” Merlin cursed under his breath as his phone slipped from where he balanced it between his ear and shoulder. Awkwardly shifting the bags in his right hand to his left, he crouched and picked up his phone. “Sorry about that.”

The caller cleared their throat and perhaps Merlin was reading into it a bit, but they sounded very put out. Their voice was sort of constricted, like they were holding their neck as tightly as they could. “Yes well, I’m calling for Merlin Emrys.”

“You’ve got him, whose this?”

“Right, yes, I’m calling to discuss something of great importance. Mr. Emrys, your presence is needed in the North Pole immediately.”

Merlin huffed into the phone and rolled his eyes. “Oi, this is getting ridiculous, I’m not falling for whatever scam you’re trying to pull, mate. Stop calling me.”

“I assure you, sir, this is no joke. There has been an accident and as the only Flor left, you must present yourself for–.”

“Yeah whatever you say crackpot, just take me off your call list, yeah? Cheers.” Merlin quickly ended the call, ignoring the voice on the other end still talking. 

The “damn Christmas calls”, as Merlin called them, started a few weeks ago. At first he thought they were kind of funny, he even went along with it for a laugh. “Oh ha ha sure I’ll catch the first flight to the North Pole, unless you want to send me a sleigh!” But after a few weeks of daily calls, his amusement had significantly diminished.

He stuck his phone back in his pocket and evened out the bags in his hands before continuing his trek home. It had been a rare sunny day and everyone in the city seemed to be out enjoying it. Merlin smiled to himself as he watched a few children playing football while he passed through the park toward his flat. He missed those days, when he would play with his friends without a care in the world. Knowing he would return home to his mother exhausted but happy to sit at her feet and tell her about that day’s adventures while she knitted their Christmas sweaters. When things were simple.

Merlin turned away from the kids playing and quickened his pace, blinking away the sudden moisture in his eyes. They say grief is supposed to get better every year, that’s what they told him over and over again. ‘Don’t worry, Merlin’, they’d say. ‘Your mum wouldn’t want you to stay sad forever.’ Or worse, ‘Cheer up, it’s Christmas!’ as if he wasn’t painfully aware he was once again going to have to spend their favorite time of year alone. She’d been gone for seven years now but somehow each December felt worse than the last; each a bit lonelier, too. It was like the older he got, the less people cared to take pity on him and invite him to their holiday celebrations. 

He wasn’t a kid who’d lost his mum anymore, no one cared if he spent the holiday alone in his flat watching the least christmas-y movies he could find; smoking as much weed as he could get his hands on that year to dull the ache in his chest. It wasn’t a healthy way of coping, he knew that, but he had tried for so long to make this time of year cheerful again, and last year he finally accepted that it just wasn’t going to happen. 

Merlin made it to his flat and maneuvered all his bags back to one hand to unlock the door and step inside. He kicked the door closed behind him and, now in the safety of his own home, locked the bolts with a flash of his eyes. 

He couldn’t do a lot with his magic, or at least he didn’t think he could. It had taken years to figure out how to get it out of him, to channel this buzzing energy under his skin out into the world to do what he wanted, but in the last three or four years he’d gotten rather good at small things like locking the door or moving things around the room. He didn’t dare use it outside his home, his mum’s constant cautionary scoldings had their intended effect - he was far too afraid of what might happen if someone found out he had magic.

Real magic. The kind you read about in fantasy stories, in tales of epic heroes and their magical sidekicks who always saved the day with their magic. Make believe nonsense. And yet, here he was. Twenty-two, living alone in London, magicking his groceries to put themselves away while he changed into sweats in the other room. It was strange, though, he recently noticed that it seemed like his magic was more focused than before. He couldn’t explain why, really, but a few weeks ago he woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and when he sat up to turn the lamp next to his bed on - it turned itself on. His blankets unraveled around him and his slippers slid from across the room to the side of his bed. It was like his magic was acting on its own but still doing what he wanted it to. It was very confusing and frankly, Merlin did his best to just not think about it. Maybe in the new year he’ll have the energy for it. For now, he just needed to survive. 

The next day, Merlin ignored not one but two phone calls he assumed was the ‘north pole’ on his way to work. His shift started as it usually did, with his manager giving him an ear full about what everyone else did wrong the day before and how he needed to clean up all their messes before customers showed up. Merlin was pretty sure being a barista shouldn’t be such a mentally draining job, but he didn’t have training in anything else and jobs that paid enough to make rent were scarce.

An hour or so after the morning rush, a thin man about Merlin’s age stepped up to the counter. Before Merlin had even looked at him, his arms were covered in goosebumps and every hair on the back of his neck stood up. He quickly eyed the man, with his lush dark hair and five o’clock shadow. He was an attractive man to be sure, but Merlin had never reacted this way to anyone before, even his magic seemed to be on edge. And even more peculiar was the way the man stared back at Merlin, intense and frustrated, as if Merlin had somehow already offended him. 

Merlin swallowed and put on his best attempt at a smile. “Hi, welcome to Benny’s Cafe. Do you know what you want to order?” The man’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side. Merlin looked around, wondering if anyone else was seeing this happening but realized there were no other customers left in the cafe. It was just the two of them. “Uh... do you need a minute or?”

The man frowned and crossed his arms. “I need to talk to you, Emrys.” 

Merlin’s eyes bulged and he took a step back from the counter. “Sorry, how do you know my name? Who are you?” 

The man rolled his eyes, “We don’t have time for this.” Before Merlin could say anything else, the man’s eyes flashed gold and the ‘Open’ sign on the front window flipped itself to ‘Closed’ and all at once every machine around him turned off. Merlin rubbed his eyes and stared at the man.

“Do you… did you just… how did you do that?” He knew how, he felt the man’s magic pass around him but he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. Another person with magic, golden eye magic just like his. Who was this man?

“I’m a Tonk, obviously.” The man said under his breath, as if that made any sense, before nearly shouting his next words. “And you’ve been dodging our calls. Don’t act like you didn’t feel it happen, do you seriously intend not to do your duty?”

Merlin gaped momentarily, “My duty? What the hell are you on about, my duty? Oh good gods, this is about the stinking North Pole grift again isn’t it? Are you so desperate to steal my money or identity or whatever it is you’re after that you have to hunt me down in person?”

The man’s frown deepened as he took a step closer to the counter, his eyes scanned Merlin’s face for a long time and for some reason, Merlin just let him. He couldn’t explain why this menacingly attractive stranger, who apparently could do magic, wasn’t registering as a threat to him but his gut was rarely wrong so Merlin stayed still and assessed the man right back.

“Do you know what I am?” He asked suddenly, making Merlin jump a little.

“Wha– uh– well… a man?”

The stranger did something so unexpected next that Merlin actually pinched his arm to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. 

He laughed. Full on, joyful, incredulous belly laughter that had Merlin wondering if he should call the police. There was probably an 80% chance this guy was gonna try to kill him or something. Eventually the man composed himself, reaching his hand out in front of him. “My name is Lance.”

“Hi?” Merlin responded, hesitantly shaking the man’s hand, momentarily pausing his mind from planning an escape route for when things go south.

“It seems our information about you may have been… well, very wrong. We were told you knew about us, about your origin, but it seems you are more in the dark about yourself than we were.” Merlin made no indication he was going to respond, having so many questions suddenly in his brain he couldn’t sort through them quick enough to actually speak. “Perhaps we should sit, this is going to be a… strange conversation.”

“Going to be?” Merlin muttered under his breath with a bemused huff as he took his apron off and followed Lance to a table. 

They sat down and Lance leaned forward onto his elbows. “I’m just going to cut straight to the chase here, Merlin. I’m an elf, from the North Pole. Yes,” He added quickly when Merlin opened his mouth to interject, “the North Pole. The one with Santa and gifts and reindeer and elves. It’s real, and it’s where I’m from. It’s where you’re from, too.”

“Nah mate, I’m from London.” Merlin interjected before Lance had a chance to continue.

“No, you only think you are.” He scowled slightly as Merlin attempted to speak again and Merlin quickly shut his mouth. “Let me explain, please.” Merlin nodded, silently agreeing not to interrupt again, at least for a little while.

“Your mother and father were elves. Born and raised in the Pole along with every other elf in existence. Apart from you, that is. We don’t know why, exactly, though it was our assumption that your parents had told you what you were and why they left. No one would have ever guessed you were raised as a… a human.” Lance’s eyes narrowed as he grimaced slightly. 

“But I digress, you’re an elf, Merlin. From the House of Flor. You are, as it turns out, the sole living member of that House. Which is why you need to return to the Pole with me at once.”

Lance stood up, seemingly satisfied he’d told Merlin enough and Merlin scoffed. “Woah woah woah, that’s not an explanation. What the bloody hell are you on about? There’s no way I’m an elf, no way my mother never told me that. I don’t know who you’re looking for, mate, but it’s not me.”

Lance sighed as he sat back down, his frown returning in earnest. “I’m sorry, but I’m not. The Chimney confirmed the records we found, and it’s never wrong. You, Merlin Emrys of the House of Flor, are an elf. And as you’re the only member of Flor left, you are required to present yourself so that a new Santa can be selected.” Merlin just shook his head, processing the nonsense he’d just heard. 

“You know I’m right, Merlin, I can see it in your eyes. You know you’re different, you’re not like everyone else. Have you never noticed anything odd about yourself? I mean, other than the size of your ears. Honestly, they should have been a dead give away. It’s been ages since a Flor has been seen in real life but our historians did not exaggerate - Flor elves really do have massive ears.”

“Alright now you’re just taking the piss.” Merlin huffed, shoving his chair back and standing. He paced back and forth, hating that Lance wasn’t wrong. He had always been different, he had magic for godssake. But an elf? From the North Pole? For Santa?! It was just too… fantastical, too strange, too silly to be real. It couldn’t be real. “This can’t be real.”

“And yet, you know that it is.” Lance crossed his arms and looked at Merlin with a touch of remorse for springing this insanity on Merlin. Like he could almost understand what he must be feeling. “I’m sorry you found out this way, but we do not have time to waste. The end of the year is approaching and a new Santa needs to be named before Christmas Eve. We need to go.”

Merlin closed his eyes for a moment and took a slow, deep breath. He just… he needed a minute to bloody think. Lance, despite his insistence that they were strapped for time, graciously waited for Merlin to pull himself together. 

“Say I am an elf...” Merlin spoke suddenly as he turned his face to Lance.

“You are an elf.” Lance replied, with almost a smirk and raised eyebrow. Merlin rolled his eyes and pulled his chair back to the table and sat.

“Say I am an elf, why do I have to be there? Surely there are enough elves in the entire North Pole that no one would notice one was missing.”

“It doesn’t work that way. Listen, I can explain more on the way but we really must go.” Lance shook his head, eyeing the watch on his wrist with a sigh. “Basically, five candidates are chosen for who will become the next Santa. One elf from each of the Five Houses. Long story short, you’re the only one who can stand for your House and The Chimney cannot choose without every candidate presenting themselves. If you aren’t there,” He paused, softening his face and voice unexpectedly. “Then there will be no more Christmas.”

Merlin’s heart ached strangely. He thought of how terrible Christmas had been for him lately and how nice it would be if everyone just stopped making such a fuss about it so he can feel normal again. But then… he thought of how terrible Christmas had been for him and how much worse it would be to condemn the whole world to feel that, too. 

But to go off with a complete stranger to somewhere he was pretty sure didn’t exist? That’d be mental! Merlin’s hand rose to the chain around his neck and he held his mum’s engagement ring between his fingers, hating that he knew what the right answer was. His mum would never forgive him if he didn’t at least hear him out. 

And really what has he got to lose? A bad job, a crummy apartment, an even worse social life. If taking a quick trip with this strange man… or elf, rather, would ensure the joy of millions of people across the world, how could he say no?

“No.” Merlin said sharply, feeling guilt twist in his chest. “Well, not yet, at least. I need proof, something, anything to prove to me this is real. I mean you can’t actually expect me to hop on a plane to the North Pole tonight without it. Wait, do planes even go there?”

“Oh my go- don’t worry about the transportation, Merlin! Humans.” Lance sighed helplessly and ran his hand through his hair. “I can give you proof, sort of, but you’ll have to trust me.” Lance held his hand palm up, offering it to him. When Merlin hesitated, he nodded toward it encouragingly. “Please trust me.”

Merlin sighed and reluctantly placed his hand on Lance’s. Instantly his vision clouded and after a dizzying moment, he was staring at the grandest Christmas Tree he’d ever seen. Looking around, he discovered he was in a town square, filled with brightly painted buildings covered in snow. He peered through the window of the nearest building, unable to see inside but instead found himself staring at Lance’s reflection. He was seeing Lance’s memory? How is that possible, how-

Merlin’s normal sight crashed back into place suddenly and Merlin felt a pounding headache form between his eyes. Lance had pulled his hand away and once Merlin’s eyes adjusted, he saw that Lance was breathing heavily. Really heavily, in fact, as he wiped his brow and leaned onto the table. 

“What… the… hell did you just do?” Lance asked between breaths.

“What did I do? I didn’t do anything! I just saw what you showed me.” Merlin said defensively, hands flailing in front of him. 

“What I showed you?! I didn’t show you anything! I was letting you feel my magic, to recognize that we are kin. You saw something?” Merlin nodded incrementally. “What did you see?”

Merlin gaped, “Wha- I dunno… I assume it was the North Pole.” He scratched his hair roughly and sat back in his seat. “There was a massive tree, a square filled with buildings, and when I was looking around I could see yo-” Merlin stopped when he saw how wide Lance’s eyes had gotten. He stared in disbelief and Merlin swallowed uncomfortably.

“You could see what?” Lance urged through gritted teeth, though Merlin couldn’t tell if that was from rage or disbelief.

“Well, I tried looking into the window of a building but all I saw was you. Or, well, your reflection that is. I think there may have been someone next to you but it stopped too suddenly for me to get a good look at him.”

Lance stared at him for what felt like ten minutes, once again silently assessing him. Eventually, he blinked hard and sat up straight. “So, are you coming or do I have to knock you out?” 

Merlin jolted slightly at the sudden change in demeanor. “Oh uh… are we not gonna talk about…” his voice trailed off as his eyes flicked between their hands.

“Later.” was all Lance said in return.

Merlin took a deep breath and met Lance’s eyes with a confidence he didn’t know he had. “Fine. But we’ll have to stop at my flat first.” 

Lance’s eyes lit up and he, for the first time in their short acquaintance, smiled at Merlin as he sighed in relief and got to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

“Merliiiiiiiiiiin.” Lance groaned through his hands as Merlin rattled off another ten questions for him. They had been traveling all night and despite Lance very clearly being exhausted, Merlin felt more awake than ever.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and sat back into his seat. “Sorry. There’s just so much I don’t know! You said you would explain but you haven’t told me anything!”

This wasn’t exactly true, Lance had answered several hours worth of questions from the time they left the cafe to boarding the weird, magical train they were on, but with every answer came another three questions Merlin wanted to ask. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t bloody know anything.

What he’d learned so far, though, was enough to break his brain twice over. There was an entire civilization at the North Pole. Centuries ago, they were divided up into 5 distinct Houses, each with their own kind of magic and reputation. In their more recent history, the houses have all become quite blended and far less strict. In time, the houses became more or less ornamental if the way Lance explained it was accurate. They existed, and some still held on tightly to the separation, but there was no hierarchy of houses anymore, no leader of each house - who would usually automatically be their houses’ candidate. Which is why The Chimney simply names the candidates now.

‘The Chimney’. Good god this might be the hardest part to swallow. The Chimney was supposedly the sentient source of all the magic in the Pole. Without it, there’d be no magic and Christmas simply wouldn’t exist. Merlin had an infinite number of questions about The Chimney but one growl from Lance was all it took for him to keep them to himself a while longer.

Despite not being very significant anymore, The Chimney still must pick one candidate from each house, rather than any five elves. There was Lance’s house, the House of Tonk. Tonks, he explained, have the ability to temporarily bring inanimate objects to life and do their bidding. Like the sign at the cafe flipping itself over, or the machines shutting themselves off. 

The House of Beck was known for their summoning and telekinetic magic. They, along with Tonks, were primarily responsible for the actual toymaking in the Pole, though their magic is quite limited as it drains the user quicker than any other magic.

There was also the House of Whim, their magic manifested mostly in ethereal beauty, whether it be physical, artistic, musical, inner… you get the idea. They didn’t really have a typical role like the other houses did, they were spread out evenly, though they were known not to have the greatest work ethic.

Then there was the House of Fort, which was largely renowned for their ability to make themselves superhumanly strong - or super-elvishly strong. ‘To fortify’, Lance said with a roll of his eyes, ‘a little on the nose for my taste but who am I to tell the ancient elves what to call themselves.’ They were typically known to be the Pole’s protectors, making up the guard as well as holding more of the important jobs than any other house. 

“That’s only four.” Merlin had said when Lance seemed to reach the end of his explanation. “You said there were five?” 

Lance had sighed and nodded tiredly. “Your house, the House of Flor. Their magic was most closely connected with the Chimney, it was focused on nature, with any kind of natural thing, really. If I remember right, they were said to be the most balanced, knowing naughty from nice, that sort of thing.”

Merlin nodded enthusiastically, recalling how difficult it could be to ignore the magic buzzing inside him when he was surrounded by nature. It made sense, though he didn’t quite understand what the kind of magic was. When he’d asked Lance to explain, he shrugged apologetically and told him that he truly didn’t know. The House of Flor had been dwindling for more than a century and was presumed extinct with the death of his parents; no one in the Pole knew they’d had a child until the Chimney refused to start the trials the other week. When Merlin tried asking follow up questions, Lance simply cut him off saying “Wait til we’re home, Merlin. There are countless elves far better suited to explain all this to you. I’m no educator.”

“What do you do?” Merlin asked hours later, realizing he didn’t know much about him. It didn’t sit quite right with him. It seemed like Lance knew more about Merlin than Merlin did and it left him feeling a little too vulnerable.  

Lance raised his eyebrows briefly before schooling his face, as if he was shocked Merlin would want to know more about him. “Oh, I’m part of the guard.”

Merlin nodded as his eyes dropped to the floor, lost in thought for a moment. “You said you’re a Tonk though, right? Why aren’t you a toymaker?”

Lance’s face closed off bitterly as he huffed. “You’ve known about our world for one day and already you have a problem with my career choice.”

“No. No! I don’t care at all, I think you should do whatever you want to do. I just… wanted to understand, I suppose.”

Lance’s face softened. “Right, sorry. A bit of a touchy subject. Elves aren’t confined to the jobs that best fit their house or skills, but it’s uncommon to step too far outside the norm. And it doesn’t exactly make you popular… your own house resents you a little, assuming you think you’re better than them. And the house whose job you’re taking, well they resent you for thinking you’re good enough to be with them.”

Merlin frowned to himself, thinking maybe the houses weren’t quite as inconsequential as Lance had explained; though he kept that thought to himself. 

“So then, what’d you do to get this job? I don’t imagine they’d send just any old guard to do it.” Merlin asked with cautious, but obvious curiosity. He could tell Lance didn’t want to talk about himself, but Merlin couldn’t stop himself from pushing anyway. “How did you end up being the one to go fetch the human?”

“None of your business.” Lance bit back, turning away from Merlin. 

“Ah…” Merlin’s eyebrows rose knowingly as he turned to look out the window, “So it’s some kind of punishment, then. Interesting. Well, come on then, what’d you do?” 

Lance rolled his shoulders and pointedly ignored Merlin, hitting a nerve he didn’t know was there. 

“Sure, don’t tell me anything. I’m just upending my life and entire understanding of reality, traveling to the sodding NORTH POLE with a stranger who claims he is… who claims we are some of Santa’s elves! Why should anyone feel the need to try and make me feel the slightest bit comfortable by sharing something slightly personal about themselves.” Merlin huffed, standing abruptly and stomping out of their carriage and toward the toilets.

He didn’t mean to get so angry all of a sudden. Who was he, really, to demand to know anything about Lance that he wasn’t already willing to share. But he had told Merlin so much about himself and he just wanted to know something about Lance, too. And more than that, Merlin had just really enjoyed talking to him. He rather liked Lance, thought they could maybe become friends even. But maybe he should have accepted the clear signs Lance had been giving him; that he was there to do a job, not become friends. Maybe he was ignoring them simply because he was just happy to have someone to talk with.

When he eventually returned, Lance wouldn’t look Merlin in the eye. Guilt and annoyance battled inside Merlin as he tried to figure out what to say. He was harsh, but he was justifiably harsh. For half an hour, Lance stared at Merlin until Merlin looked back, and then he’d quickly look away as if they weren’t sitting two feet away from one another. Eventually, Merlin decided to just not look away at all, so when Lance next turned his gaze to him, he would have to catch his eye. 

When Lance finally did, Merlin saw immediately that the brooding anger he’d seen earlier wasn’t anger anymore. Lance looked tired and honestly, kind of sad. They held each other’s gaze for more than a minute when Lance finally decided to speak. 

“I was on guard duty the night Santa di-” He paused and cleared his throat. “Died. The doctors said it was a heart attack, that there was nothing that could have been done to save him but the Sweeps think differently. They’ve always disliked that I was a guard; that I was a good enough guard to be stationed at Santa’s door was unfathomable for some of them.

“And they decided someone needed to be blamed for what happened that night. Maybe I should have noticed something was wrong and checked on him sooner, could have tried CPR or, I don’t know, something. All I did was call the emergency elves and ran to tell the Sweeps.”

Merlin bit his tongue for the thousandth time that day, wanting desperately to know what the hell ‘the Sweeps’ were, but he knew it wasn’t the time. He watched Lance briefly, seeing the familiar guilt and grief of loss painted all over his face and knew that Lance blamed himself as much as ‘the Sweeps’ did.

“It wasn’t your fault, Lance.” Merlin said quietly after several silent minutes. Lance’s eyes flicked up to Merlin for a second before dropping back to the ground. “You couldn’t stop Santa’s heart attack any more than I could stop my mum’s aneurysm from rupturing." Lance’s eyes lifted back to Merlin’s, slowly this time. Merlin shook his head and sighed as he sat back in his seat. “It’s hard to believe, I know, but trust me. No good comes from holding onto guilt you don’t deserve.” 

Lance quietly sat back in his own seat, pondering what Merlin had said. He wasn’t sure how long he’d remained in quiet contemplation, but when he next looked at Merlin, he was fast asleep.

Chapter Text

“Merlin. Merlin! Wake UP!” Someone was shoving and shaking him and, momentarily confused with where he was, Merlin only barely stopped his magic from lashing out. His eyes remained closed for a moment before realizing what had almost just happened and threw himself upright. Unfortunately, Lance was still leaning over him and their heads collided. “Ow, Merlin, be careful!”

Merlin should have apologized but his mind was racing as it worked to catch up to reality. His magic felt so different. It had never acted entirely of its own accord like it tried to do just now, Merlin wasn’t even entirely sure how he managed to stop it. He thought to ask Lance, who was rubbing his forehead and muttering something rude under his breath, but remembered the whole ‘accidentally seeing his memory’ fiasco, and thought he’d better stick to what he knows: keeping his magic to himself. 

Thoughtfully, he turned his gaze out the train window, the only thing visible was snow. Miles and miles of fresh, untouched snow as far as the eye could see and it mercifully quieted his mind. “Ho-ly shit.” Merlin breathed out. “We’re actually in the North Pole.”

Lance chuckled, “Not yet. We’ve technically got one more connection to make, but it only takes a few minutes. We’ll be there soon”

“Still. I’ve never even left the England before.” Merlin mumbled, still staring out the window. He felt Lance’s eyes on him but Merlin couldn’t seem to look anywhere other than the snow. 

He was most certainly not in London anymore.

Half an hour and a lot of magical-transportation-displacement-gibberish Lance tried explaining later, they officially arrived at the Pole. Merlin’s pulse skyrocketed and he mindlessly reached for his mother’s ring around his neck. Soon they’d be actually in the North Pole. It was all about to become very, very real. He was an elf. From the North Pole. There was a small part of him that hoped, and maybe feared, that it was all a vivid dream and he’d wake up alone in his flat any second now. Or worse, that this was real but he wasn’t the right person. Merlin’s hand shot out to grab Lance, stopping him from stepping off the train.

“What if… what if this is wrong? What if I’m not who you’re looking for and you’ve wasted all this time on me when you should have been finding the real person. Lance, I don’t know ab-” His eyes bugged out as he felt panic twist through his stomach so acidically he couldn’t finish his sentence. 

Lance turned to Merlin with a surprisingly kind smile. “Close your eyes.” Merlin did as he was told, though he couldn’t bring himself to release the vice grip he had on Lancelot’s wrist. “Deep breath… Now, feel it. Feel the magic, feel the energy, feel the comfort of this place deep inside you.” After a few breaths, Lance gently twisted his wrist out of Merlin’s grasp and guided him off the train.

As Merlin’s feet came in contact with the ground a rush of something pure, something impossibly warm and joyful and perfect spread through him as he gasped. The magic under his skin leaped to life and his entire body seemed to tingle with it. It felt like something he’d almost forgotten about. It felt like…

“Welcome home, Merlin.” Lance said quietly from behind him.

Home.

It felt like home.

Merlin opened his eyes and peered around him. It was exactly like Lance’s memory, brightly painted buildings, snow everywhere though the air wasn’t bitterly cold like he expected. Lance patted him on the back and started walking toward a building nearby. It took Merlin a full thirty seconds before he realized he should probably follow him and hustled to catch up while still looking at anything and everything they passed.

Lance led them through the train station before they stepped out into the city square, the same one he’d seen at the cafe. It was beautiful and vibrant, yet somehow also entirely peaceful. Merlin realized he hadn’t stopped grinning since he’d gotten off the train as he saw his reflection in a store window. He tried to peer inside but unfortunately for him, Lance didn’t seem to care about how exciting and new and insane all of this was for Merlin. He just marched on, wordlessly leading them somewhere, leaving no time for Merlin to properly gawk and admire everything but he supposed he’d have plenty of time for that later.

Eventually, Lance stopped in front of an intimidating building, not as tall as a skyscraper you’d see in the city but was somehow much more daunting. Lance turned to him and cleared his throat, drawing Merlin’s eyes from the building.

“This is the Hall. Basically, any person or department that has anything to do with running this place is located in that building.” Lance motioned toward it with his head as he crossed his arms. “All the different head offices, management, the Sweeps, and most importantly, the Chimney.”

Merlin immediately understood why the building was so unnerving. He swallowed and looked back up toward it cautiously. A moment later, Lance began walking up the steps to the building and Merlin again had to grab his wrist to stop him.

“Wait!” Lance grunts in annoyance and turns back to Merlin with an impatient frown. “What exactly are we doing right now?”

“Presenting you to the Sweeps.” 

“What already?!” Merlin gawked and unconsciously took a step back. “Can’t we, I dunno, find a shower I could use since I’ve been traveling for like 28 hours?”

“Sorry Merlin,” Lance twisted his wrist and broke Merlin’s hold. “We’re to report directly to the Sweeps as soon as we arrive.”

“Wha- You can’t-  I don’t even know what a Sweep is!” Merlin called after him, going up the first few steps but stopping when he noticed several people nearby turn to look at him. Lance continued ascending the stairs and as he shouted in frustration, and without his explicit intention, Merlin’s magic reached out and stopped him. “Lance!”

Lance staggered slightly, almost falling at the sudden restraint but managed to twist around to face Merlin with bulging eyes. “Merlin, stop that immediately.” He bit out under his breath through a clenched jaw.

Merlin climbed the remaining steps between them and crossed his arms. “Not until you tell me who or what I’m about to meet in there.” He said defiantly, not acknowledging the fact that he had no idea how to make his magic release him.

Lance sighed, “The Sweeps are the highest governing body of the Pole. It’s made up of nine senior elves from each house. They’re not elected, per se, but their appointments are not contested, either. To be honest, the politics of the Pole is beyond my understanding, and interest… which is why I told you so many times already, we’ll find someone better suited to answer all your questions. Just as soon as you talk to the Sweeps.”

Merlin thought for a moment, feeling not exactly satisfied, but placated enough to relent. And his magic seemed to agree and released Lance as soon as Merlin decided to let it go for now. Lance straightened his clothes with his hands like he was brushing dirt off and shook his head at Merlin before climbing the rest of the stairs to the Hall. Merlin swallowed, spared one more wary glance at the building, and followed closely behind him.

As soon as they entered the Hall, at least fifty eyes turned to Merlin as if by force. He tried to ignore their stares and whispers as he stepped just a little bit closer to Lance, curling in on himself a little. He wasn’t shy but he’d never loved being the absolute center of attention, even less so when he didn’t fully understand why everyone’s attention was on him. Was he really such a big deal? How did they even know who he was?

They approached a set of massive doors with guards on either side. When they spotted Lance approaching, one slipped through the doors, returning a moment later. He nodded to Lance, “You, go inside first.” Lance glanced at Merlin before stepping forward. The guard then gestured to an ornate bench with a deep red velvet cushion across from the door. “You, wait there.”

Merlin did as he was told, his eyes roaming the room as he sat and pausing on the doors Lance went through every thirty seconds or so as he tried not to worry. Eventually, the doors opened and someone stuck their head out to whisper to the guard. His head whipped around to Merlin with wide eyes and Merlin felt his stomach drop. So his presence really was that big of a deal. Great. Juuuuuuuust great.

The guard stared for a moment longer before clearing his throat. “You may go inside now.”

Merlin stood up slowly, wringing his hands in front of him as he approached the doors. He glanced at the guards as they moved to open both doors for him, and nodded a cautious thank you as he stepped through. The room he entered was somehow twice as large as the outside made it seem. The walls and floors were entirely white and gray marble and every one of his footsteps echoed ominously. His eyes landed on Lance and, despite only knowing him a day, he felt himself relax just a little.

In front of Lance was a large black and white marbled table, it covered the top and went all the way to the floor in the front. It was curved into a wide arch with nine sets of appraising eyes trained on him, perfectly spaced as they sat behind the table. He reached Lance’s side after what felt like an eternity and glanced at him with a furrowed brow, as if to ask ‘what now?’. Lance just gave him a reassuring look and turned to the table.

“My Lords, allow me to present Merlin Emrys of the House of Flor.” He gestured to Merlin, who lamely tried to smile with a half-hearted wave. Lance then turned to him, “Merlin, these are the Sweeps.”

Somehow, the eyes watching him felt twice as intimidating, as if they’d all just leaned forward in their seats to examine him. The Sweep in the middle of the table cleared his throat and the other eight all quickly turned their attention to him. “Welcome to the North Pole, Merlin Emrys of Flor.”

Merlin’s eyebrows rose momentarily, “Th-Thank you,” He peeked over at Lance, “M-my Lords?” The end of his sentence raised in pitch, unsure if that was how he was supposed to address them.

The Sweeps’ eyes flicked between Merlin and Lance briefly before dismissing Lance. Just when he reached the door, the Sweep called out to him. “Collect the others, bring them here immediately.” Lance turned back after hesitating a moment before nodding his understanding.

 A wave of panic spread through Merlin as he watched Lance exit the room without another word, leaving him alone to face the Sweeps. Merlin swallowed dryly and, unsure where to look, tried to remain as calm and casual as he could.

The Sweeps were all having whispered conversations with each other while the one who had spoken to him, whom Merlin decided must be the Head Sweep, simply continued watching him. He fought the urge to make himself smaller under the scrutiny as he waited for someone to speak.

“So, Merlin. Lancelot tells us you were in the dark about your heritage. Is that correct?”

Merlin had to bite down a shocked laugh hearing Lance’s full name, hiding his smile with a small cough. “Right, yeah before Lance-a-lot” Merlin stuttered over his name, clearing his throat to get ahold of himself, “found me yesterday, I had no idea any of this even existed. I believe you were hoping for more from me, sorry to disappoint. Uh, my lords.”

The Sweep to the right of the Head Sweep smiled, though it felt a little… wrong. Like he was holding his lips too tight, or maybe it was that the smile didn’t reach his eyes. This, along with his greasy, slicked back hair was enough for Merlin not to trust him yet.

“Oh do not concern yourself with that, it is enough that you are here. Where you belong.”

Merlin saw movement out of the corner of his eye and angled his head just enough to look at the Sweeps at the far end of the table, who had begun furiously whispering to one another. He must have been too obvious about it, though, because the Greasy Sweep followed his gaze and his fake smile dropped in an instant, replaced with a scowl.

“Merlin,” the Head Sweep spoke, silencing the room with one word. “Do you know why you are here?”

Merlin’s eyebrows rose for a moment, forgetting he was the one being interviewed? Interrogated? Judged? “Oh, um yes I think so. The… Chimney needs to select a new Santa?” Half the Sweeps nod, half remain stone faced, but the Head Sweep nods for Merlin to continue. “And I-I have to stand for my house in order for that to happen.”

“Well, Merlin. It seems Lancelot has told you plenty.” The Greasy Sweep said flatly. Merlin’s eyes widened, was Lance not supposed to tell him anything? Would he be in trouble for it?

“I made him.” Merlin blurted out quickly. “I didn’t believe him at first, I mean how could I? In my world, this-” He gestures to the space around them, “is a story, it’s all make believe. I made him explain before I agreed to come, he had no choice.”

“It is quite alright, young Flor. Lancelot was free to say or do whatever was needed to ensure your safe arrival.” The Head Sweep spoke again, cutting off whatever the Greasy Sweep had opened his mouth to say. Merlin spared a thought about what Lance might have done to ‘ensure his safe arrival’ if he’d flatly refused to come. He did threaten to drug him, didn’t he? Best not to think about it just now, he supposed. 

After several silent, unbelievably uncomfortable moments, Merlin couldn't take it anymore. “Well I’m here now, so will the Chimney make its decision soon, or…” His voice trailed off as one of the Sweeps from the end of the table shifted in his seat, drawing his attention again.  

He had shoulder length white hair, such that if he had a beard, Merlin would wonder why he couldn’t just be Santa, he already had the look. The Sweep’s right eyebrow rose so high it almost disappeared into his hair line.

“Getting to the Pole was only the first step, Merlin. Now that you’re here, the trials will begin.” He kept his eyes on Merlin, who couldn’t seem to look away. 

“The trials?”

“Yes. The trials. Every candidate will participate in trials until the Chimney is ready to make its decision.” A female Sweep with long blonde curls and keen eyes responded from the opposite end of the table.

Merlin’s brow furrowed, “Like a court trial?”

Blonde Sweep smiled, a real smile he noted, and Merlin felt like he was starting to get an idea of who these people.. Or… elves were.

“More like tests, Merlin. The Chimney will tell us when and where and what you will be doing when it is ready to set the first trial.”

“They’re not the same with every new Santa?” Merlin asked, realizing belatedly that there was probably some sort of etiquette he should be following; a thought that was immediately confirmed.

“My, you do speak your mind freely, don’t you?” Another nameless Sweep commented under his breath, though there was no doubt everyone could hear it in the marble echo chamber they were in. 

Merlin opened his mouth to apologize but the Blonde Sweep cut him off, “Oh relax, Allined. We are all friends here.” Her tone had just enough bite to it for Merlin to know she was not one to mess with. She turned her gaze back to Merlin, “They are always different. The Chimney will take what it knows of all of you and create trials for the five of you specifically. And it will keep doing so until it’s ready to decide, it could be one trial or it could be ten. Each candidate competes in every trial in order for the Chimney to know who the best choice is.”

Merlin inhaled deeply as he dropped his gaze to the ground for a moment. He thought he just had to show himself here, but to be put to the test? That was another thing entirely. What kinds of tests would they be? Would they be some kind of physical challenges, or perhaps actual exams about the Pole, or maybe magical tests? Could they be dangerous? He wasn’t prepared for this, he wasn’t ready! He turned his eyes back to the Blonde Sweep, hoping he was right in guessing she would be the best to direct his next question.

“What if… what if a candidate didn’t want to compete? Has anyone ever forfeited their chance at becoming-” Merlin swallowed dryly, feeling anger and interest radiating off the Sweeps around him. The Blonde Sweep tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, intrigued but not intimidatingly so. A faint clicking noise behind him thankfully drew everyone’s attention and Merlin could not have been more grateful, the shift in the room’s energy alone was enough to know he did not want to hear the answer to his question. He turned to see Lance stepping inside and looking to the Head Sweep for direction. 

“Let them enter.” Many of the Sweeps around the table straightened in their seats, excited about whatever or whoever was on the other side of that door, though he noticed both the Blonde Sweep and the one with the eyebrow were still staring at him. Merlin turned back to Lance as the guards opened the doors behind him, letting a single file line of people into the room.

Chapter Text

The first to enter the chamber was a pretty girl with stars in her eyes and a perfect smile. She had sandy hair that seemed to curl perfectly down her back and she walked with more grace than Merlin knew anyone capable of possessing. It was almost as if she were floating. Merlin tried and failed to recall the house that was the ‘beauty’ house, but guessed this girl and the Blonde Sweep surely belonged to it.

Behind her was a starkly different girl, though no less beautiful. She was perhaps a year or two older than the first, with stark black hair and piercing green eyes. She didn’t smile, but scowled as her eyes instantly went to Merlin and began assessing him. Merlin swallowed as his mouth went dry, not sure if he liked or hated the attention.

The next was a child, no more than twelve Merlin guessed. Was he truly a candidate? What would they do with a pre-teen Santa Claus? The boy had dark hair that fell just above his impossibly owl-like blue eyes. He looked everywhere but at Merlin as he scanned the room with a slight look of awe.

The last to enter was a brooding blonde man that looked to be the closest to Merlin’s age out of the group. His eyes remained locked on one of the Sweeps over Merlin’s shoulder and when he clenched his sharply defined jaw; Merlin swallowed unconsciously.

He thought only one house was known for beauty, but surely these were the other candidates and therefore of different houses. So were all elves just ridiculously attractive?

The others lined up next to Merlin facing the table of Sweeps, the last standing the closest to him. He peeked out of the corner of his eye, trying to remain nonchalant as he stole a glance to his right but the man’s face was already turned entirely toward Merlin. His eyes were meticulously scanning him but shot to meet Merlin’s when he dared to angle his head toward him. Merlin felt almost dizzy staring into the deepest, richest blue eyes he’d ever seen.

He was so mesmerized by them that he almost missed the grimace that took over the man’s face as they floated to the side of Merlin’s head. Merlin’s hands quickly shot up to cover his ears, feeling the tips of them grow pink. The man blinked and quickly turned back to face the table of Sweeps, schooling his face.

“Candidates.” The Head Sweep called the room to attention. “We are joined tonight by our fifth.” He gestured toward Merlin who quickly dropped his hands to his sides and stood a little straighter. “Merlin of the House of Flor.” The air felt too dry as the four other candidates turned to assess him and Merlin fought to hold in a cough, afraid to interrupt the thick silence that filled the room. “Now that we are all gathered, the trials shall begin!” 

The Head Sweep stood so suddenly Merlin flinched and bumped his shoulder into the blonde candidate next to him.

“Watch it, Flor.” He grumbled under his breath.

Before Merlin could respond, the rest of the Sweeps rose to their feet and turned as they were led to a door in the far corner of the chamber. The smiley girl glided after them, leaving the rest of the candidates to follow suit. Merlin quickly stepped out of line toward Lance who was still standing near the entrance.

“What are we doing now?” Merlin whispered harshly as he approached, turning his back on the rest of the room. Lance just shrugged in response and nodded his head for Merlin to follow the line. “Lance, please come with me. I can’t- I don’t know if I can do this.” 

He must have heard the desperation in Merlin’s tone because his stoic face finally cracked and he unhooked his arms from behind his back. “I can’t, Merlin. I’m not allowed back there, I’m just a guard. Remember?” He turned Merlin around by his shoulders and walked him toward the door. “It’s fine, just follow what the others do and you should be fine… worst case scenario, maybe you faint.”

“Faint?!” Merlin ground his heels in to stop them moving forward and whipped his head to Lance, who was smiling wickedly. “Oh you bast- why would you do that? I’m freaked out enough as it is!”

“Yes, I know Merlin, that is exactly why I did it. I’ve known you for two days and already I know that this nervous kid in front of me is not you. So take a breath and relax.” Lance patted his shoulders once more and smiled before pushing Merlin forward toward the door. 

Merlin stumbled a couple steps and collided with the blonde candidate just as he was stepping through the door. They both tumbled to the floor in an awkward heap of limbs and grunts. Merlin got to his feet first and reached a hand out toward the blonde with a guilty grimace.

“Sorry, mate. I’m clumsy on a normal day but I haven’t slept in ages so I-” He was abruptly cut off by the blonde slapping his hand away and getting to his feet on his own. 

“Do we have a problem?” He bit, stepping into Merlin’s personal space.

Merlin narrowed his eyes, confused. “What? No, I was just–”

“I don’t care. Touch me again and I’ll make sure you regret it. Do you hear me, Flor?” The blonde sneered before turning and leaving a gawking Merlin behind him.

Merlin looked around to see if anyone had seen their interaction but luckily the hallway they walked into was empty, bar the youngest candidate hiding a smile behind his hand as he hustled through another door. The blonde stepped through a moment after and Merlin took a deep breath. Clutching his mother’s ring around his neck for a moment, he stood tall and walked through the door.

The room they entered was a surprisingly cozy space, such a stark difference to the Sweeps Chamber they had just exited Merlin wasn’t even sure they were in the same building. The room was warm, with several stuffed to the brim arm chairs made of rich leather gathered in little groups of four and a few long tables with benches closest to the fire. At the far end sat a large wooden desk, everything on top meticulously arranged. Along the wall opposite him were two massive built-in bookshelves framing a sturdy looking, brick fireplace with crackling fire inside. Merlin’s eyes lifted to the ceiling to see it was made entirely of glass, so you could see the bricks rise higher and higher, forming the largest chimney he’d ever seen.

The Chimney? It was… well it was certainly big but it didn’t seem particularly special. There wasn’t an aura around it and Merlin couldn’t sense any magic coming from it. Perhaps this wasn’t the Chimney after all, maybe this was just a fireplace. Someone clearing their throat pulled Merlin’s attention back to the room and he saw that everyone in the room was staring at him. He blinked and with a shake of his head, quickly stepped up beside the blonde as they faced a few of the Sweeps who had stood on either side of the fireplace.

“Candidates, it is time to present yourselves. You will each, in your own turn, step up to represent your house so that the Trials may begin. Miss Sophia, would you please step forward?” Merlin swallowed and eyed the Chimney again briefly… so this was really it.

The smiley candidate moved to stand directly in front of the fire and curtsied. “I am Sophia of the House of Whim, it is an honor to be named a candidate.” She rose from her curtsy and smiled brilliantly at the Chimney as the fire inside sparked a few inches taller. Without warning, Sophia’s arms spread out beside her and golden fireworks spread above her like a rainbow between her hands. It took Merlin’s breath away, it was possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. When she lowered her hands and the sparks around her faded, Merlin’s stomach twisted into about seven knots as he realized what she was doing. 

She was displaying her magic to the Chimney. He was going to have to display his magic. The magic has been acting up for days now, which he has no idea how to control. He swallowed dryly as it suddenly started feeling much hotter in the room. He shifted his weight and pulled on his shirt collar anxiously, ignoring the blonde turning slightly to look at him.

The Head Sweep placed his hand on the mantle of the Chimney and Merlin watched as his eyes turned gold. He stood for a moment, golden eyes staring blindly at Sophia until he removed his hand and his eyes turned back to the grayish color they normally were.

“Thank you, Sophia. You may step back.” He said, nodding for the dark haired girl to repeat what she’d done.

“I am Morgana, of the House of Beck. I am honored to be named.” She spoke formally as she bowed rather than curtsied. When she rose back up, she immediately held her hands at her waist in front of her and began to spin them in a circle.

Slowly the very ends of the tallest flames in front of her separated from the fire itself and drew closer to Morgana. The flames began circling each other, mirroring her hands as she continued the motion. Her hands moved closer and closer, as did the flames, until she cupped her hands together and the floating sparks formed a ball of fire. With a smile, Morgana gently let her hands fall in front of her and the sparks all returned to the fire.

“Well done, Morgana, very well done indeed.” The Blonde Sweep chuckled from next to the Head Sweep as she took her hand off the mantle and the gold faded from her eyes. Morgana’s smile dropped quickly as she moved back into their line.

“Right, well. Your turn, young one.” The Head Sweep gestured to the boy who took very small steps toward the Chimney, glancing at it nervously.

“I am Mordred, of Tonk.” He bowed so quickly Merlin worried he’d get whiplash. Before he could so much as blink, the boy pointed one hand at the bookshelf to his left. All at once the books on every shelf pulled themselves out like there were invisible hands pulling them. Some went higher, lower, to the left and right and reshelved themselves. He smiled proudly and took one step back before the blonde man cleared his throat. Mordred yelped quietly and stepped back into place. He bowed again, “And, and I am honored to be named a candidate.” He rushed back to his spot after the Head Sweep briefly touched the mantle and nodded his dismissal.

Before they could invite him to step forward, the blonde candidate strided up to the Chimney, bowing deeply for a moment longer than was probably necessary. “I am Arthur, of the House of Fort. It is my deepest honor to be named a candidate.” He then pulled something from inside his jacket pocket and Merlin had to fight the urge to step closer to see what it was. After a moment, Merlin realized it was some sort of metal square that Arthur was… unfolding? Merlin watched in awe as piece by piece, Arthur unfolded what looked like solid metal until it was the size of a piece of A4. He then bowed again, setting the metal on the ground in front of the Chimney with a surprisingly heavy thud. The Blonde Sweep briefly touched the mantel and dismissed him.

Turning back to walk to the line, Arthur looked right at Merlin with a smirk. Merlin was so distracted watching the sun fade to the ocean in his eyes that he almost forgot to frown back at him. He did, however, momentarily forget that he was supposed to now present himself and his magic he couldn’t control to the Chimney. 

“You may step forward, Merlin.” The Sweep with the eyebrow spoke from the other side of the fireplace. Merlin swallowed and did as he was told, eyes shifting between the Sweeps and the ominous, all powerful Chimney he was now facing. 

He had to consciously focus on not wringing his hand in front of him as he stood facing the fire. “I-” He started but choked a little and had to clear his throat. “I am Merlin, of the House of Flor. I- um- it is an honor to be named. As a candidate.” He added quickly at the end, feeling far too many eyes on him. He bowed slowly, hoping to stall long enough that maybe his magic would just act on its own. When he stood upright, he felt it buzz under his skin and he couldn’t quite explain how - but he could tell that it was… happy, anxious to perform.

Acting purely on instinct, Merlin took a deep breath and cupped his hands in front of his mouth. Breathing into his hands, he opened them to release five blue butterflies, all different shades and sizes. Merlin watched them happily as they flew around him and one, shaded a particularly brilliant blue, landed gently on the end of his nose. Merlin laughed and lifted it off with his finger to examine it more closely. He angled it this way and that and hearing a huff behind him, turned to see the butterflies surrounding the other candidates.

Three of them were smiling and laughing as theirs floated around them, though Arthur stoically ignored the one that flew maybe five centimeters away from his face - it was practically begging for his attention and he refused to give it. Of course he wouldn’t appreciate something as harmless and cute as a butterfly, Merlin thought to himself. This Arthur guy seemed to have a stick up his… well… his you know what, and Merlin decided then and there that he would happily not interact with him as much as possible going forward.

Not entirely sure how to get rid of the butterflies after they’d been created, Merlin simply lifted his hand to let the one resting on his finger fly away and stepped back into line. He very consciously did not look at Arthur as he moved to his spot next to him, even when he felt his eyes tracking him as he moved.

The Eyebrow Sweep was the one who placed his hand on the mantle for Merlin, and Merlin wondered what it meant that different Sweeps did it for different candidates. Hell, he wondered what putting one’s hand on the mantle even did. Eyebrow Sweep stood at the mantle for longer than any of the previous times, and Merlin shifted his weight awkwardly, wondering if he did something wrong or perhaps his magic was too juvenile or too silly. Eventually, Eyebrow took his hand off the mantle and nodded to the Head Sweep.

“Thank you, all, for sharing your offerings with us. The Chimney will call us when it is time for the first trial. Starting now until the end of the trials, you will each be assigned a guard to stay with you.” Merlin’s head tilted to the side thoughtfully, why would they need guards unless they are expected to be in danger. Or was it so they could just keep tabs on them at all times. Either way, he desperately hoped he’d be able to pick his own guard. “This is more of a formality than anything else, but they can be whomever you choose. They will be expected to join you in every endeavor until the Choice has been made. Your attendance, both you and your guard, is expected tomorrow morning in the Hall lobby. Do not be late.”

The Head Sweep nodded at them once more and dismissed them back through the Sweeps’ Chamber and out the doors to the entry. Merlin watched as all the other candidates left quickly, leaving him and one or two Sweeps lingering as Merlin realized he had no idea where he was supposed to go. Or where his stuff was. 

“Merlin.” A voice sounded behind him, and he turned to see the Eyebrow Sweep standing behind him with almost a smile. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gaius of Beck. I have been asked to escort you to your living quarters. Would you please follow me?”

He did not wait for an answer, simply swept past Merlin and toward the exit. Merlin hesitated, looking around once more hoping to find Lance but didn’t see him anywhere. Merlin huffed a sigh and ran his hands through his hair before hustling to catch up to ‘Gaius of Beck, the Eyebrow Sweep.’ 

What has he gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

Several hours later, Merlin collapsed onto his bed with a groan. He absently thought to dry his hair so his pillows aren’t wet all night, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His walk with Gaius to his room was short and quiet, he didn’t dare ask questions and Gaius seemed content shuffling silently in front of him. When they’d reached his room, Gaius followed him inside and sat down without a word. Though calling it ‘a room’ would be a disservice. They had given him an entire flat to himself, with a large fireplace and terribly comfortable arm chairs in the living room and a window overlooking the square.

Merlin watched in slight awe as Gaius lit the fire with one swift lift of his eyebrow as he sat down on the opposite chair to him. He rubbed his palms on his pants several times, still so anxious and wired from the weirdest 48 hours of his life. He didn’t know where to put all that energy and his eyes ricocheted from Gaius to different points of the room nervously until he mercifully ended the silence.

“That was a very interesting choice today, Merlin.” Merlin’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, wondering what of all the insane things that happened today he was referring to. “The butterflies.”

“Oh, uh yeah.” Merlin’s eyes dropped to his hands in his lap, unsure what he meant.

“They were quite beautiful, they reminded me of your mother’s magic.”

“You knew my mum?” Merlin felt his heart clench tightly as his eyes shot up to Gaius’. He supposed it made sense, given that she and his father were from here, but the thought that anyone here would have actually known them had never even crossed his mind.

“Oh very well, for a while, yes. She was my apprentice for a time, quite exceptionally skilled in Flor magic for one so young. She was, perhaps, the kindest soul I have ever known. Though she didn’t shy from putting one in their place when it was needed.”

Merlin chuckled and nodded his agreement. That was exactly how he’d described her so many times before. Unflinchingly compassionate with a strong sense of right and wrong; and an even stronger need to correct wrongs when she saw them. He hadn’t talked to anyone who knew his mum in years, and now he had someone who knew her when she was young. When he opened his mouth, ready to ask a million questions, an aggressive tapping on the window behind him interrupted.

“What was that?” He gave Gaius a questioning look, but all he did was nod to the window in response, prompting Merlin to go look for himself. 

He rose from his seat, sending one more confused look to Gaius as he stepped up to the window. Right on the other side of the glass was an envelope, simply floating in midair. Merlin gaped as he unlocked and slid the window open, and the envelope flew inside.

The envelope zoomed past Merlin and stopped directly in front of Gaius, who took hold of it with a small frown and one eyebrow - of course - raised to his hairline.

“What is that?” Merlin couldn’t help but ask as he closed the window and returned to his seat. He waited as Gaius opened and read the letter inside before he stuffed it back into the envelope with a huff and stood up without answering. “Wait, are you leaving? No, I- I have so many questions.”

Gaius gave him a sympathetic look as he shook his head slowly. “Sorry, Merlin, but duty calls me elsewhere. But in time, I will try to answer any questions you have. My door, albeit technically closed most of the time, is open to you.” He smiled and with one foot out the door, turned back. “It is good to see you here, Merlin. I dare say you will make quite an impact on this place.”

Merlin nodded awkwardly, unsure how to respond as Gaius closed the door behind him. Since the first moment Merlin saw - no, sensed - Lance in the cafe, he has been drowning in questions. Questions that seemed to double with every new piece of information he learned. Groaning, Merlin ran his hands up his face and through his hair, wondering not for the first time, what the hell he was doing. The greasy feeling of his hair was enough to grant him at least a moment of respite, and he went to take a long, hot shower and tried to ignore his wandering mind. 

Now, laying on his bed, Merlin wondered what his mother and father’s lives must have been like here and why on earth they decided to go to London. It didn’t take long before he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

A loud banging sound hit his ears and Merlin woke with a gasp, eyes darting around the unfamiliar room in confusion. It took several moments before he recognized where he was and breathed a sigh of, well not relief exactly, but something akin to it. 

He had hoped it was a dream, but no.

No, he was in the North Pole, competing to be the next stinking Santa Claus. How could he possibly forget the insanity of his current situation? Rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, Merlin regained his awareness and realized the banging was coming from his door. He jumped out of bed and threw on a shirt as he walked. He looked through the peephole and found a very angry Lance staring daggers at him through the door.

Merlin opened the door as he yawned, “Hey Lance. How’d you know whe-”

“What are you doing? Were you still sleeping?” Lance cut him off, stepping inside the room and eyeing Merlin incredulously.

“Yeah, I was until your ruddy knocking woke me up. What gives?”

“What gives? What gives!” Lance threw his arms up in front of him, looking around as if the answer was obvious. He shook his head and marched through the living room toward Merlin’s bedroom with Merlin following closely behind. “What gives Merlin, is that you are expected in the Hall in five minutes and here you are, getting your beauty sleep.”

Merlin’s eyes bulged as he quickly stepped around Lance to get dressed, brushing his teeth as he went. Lance stood against the dresser at the end of the bed with his arms crossed, a scowl painted across his face the entire time. “You know…” Merlin said, pausing to spit the toothpaste out and wipe his mouth with a towel. “There aren’t actually any clocks in here. How the hell was I supposed to know when to be there or when to wake up? Also, I’m pretty sure that guy just said ‘morning’, not an actual time. What, does everyone here just magically know what time it is all the… time?” 

“Yes.” Was all Lance responded, eliciting a frustrated groan from Merlin as he stuck his shoes on.

“Right, well add that to my list of things no one has considered explaining to me. Okay, I’m ready.” Merlin stood, squirming momentarily as Lance eyed him up and down for a moment before nodding and stalking toward the front door.

As they made their way to the Hall, Merlin gasped quietly. “Crap. I’m supposed to choose a guard. Lance, would you-”

“Why do you think I’m here, Merlin?” Lance said tiredly, though Merlin didn’t sense any true annoyance in his tone.

“Really? Wait, how’d you know?” Merlin asked, catching up to walk next to him.

Lance spared a look toward him before facing forward again. “Gaius.”

“Oh, right. Um, okay.” They walked quietly for barely ten steps before Merlin’s stomach twisted and he started feeling uneasy. At first he was happy to have Lance be his guard, he’d wanted to ask him to begin with but… Having to fetch him was a sort of punishment, and now Lance was once again being saddled with Merlin. Did Gaius order him to do it? Merlin stepped a little in front of Lance to stop him from walking. “Do you want to be my guard?” 

“What?”

“You don’t have to do this, if you’ve been assigned to me or something - just say the word and you can stop. I don’t want you to keep getting stuck with me.”

Lance looked up at Merlin, searching his face, “I was asked, I said yes.”

“Oh! Well, then… thank you.” Merlin smiled at Lance who just grunted in response and pushed past him to continue their walk. He supposed that was Lance’s way of saying ‘you’re welcome’. He was not a man of many words, Merlin was quickly learning.

They were the last to arrive in the Hall and by the looks they received, they were definitely tardy. Each candidate was standing in the lobby with one other person, their guards presumably. Merlin turned to Lance and under his breath asked, “What are we doing here?”

Lance shrugged, “How should I know?” 

“Didn’t Gaius tell you anything?” Lance just raised his eyebrows as if Merlin was crazy to have even suggested he might know something. Merlin just shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Great.”

Elbowing him in his side, Lance looked over with a smile. “Relax, Merlin.” Merlin couldn’t help but smile back, feeling incredibly grateful he had someone with him, even if he’d only known the man for two days – most of which he’d spent being very cross. Even if he did agree to it, part of Merlin still worried that Lance would soon start resenting having to babysit him.

The doors behind them opened and everyone turned to see the Head Sweep enter, followed by the Blonde, Greasy, and Gaius Sweeps. “Welcome, Candidates.” The Head Sweep said as he marched through the room to stand at the front. “Let’s get started, shall we? I am pleas-”

A cough from the corner of the room sounded and all eyes turned to a small man standing there with a pad and paper, he was the picture of a proper gentleman. The kind that knew etiquette and which fork to use at a fancy dinner, you get the idea. He somehow straightened his spine even further as he spoke, “My lord?”

The Head Sweep sighed, “Yes, George?”

George lifted his pad and paper, “For the records, sire.”

“Right, yes. For the records,” The Head Sweep paused and sent a slightly annoyed look at George. “Each of you, step forward and name your guard.”

Sophia stepped forward first… or glided, really. Behind her stood a very large, muscly man with a rather unpleasant scowl on his face. Her voice rang beautifully through the room. “I name Valiant, of the House of Fort, as my guard.”

Quiet murmurs sounded from Gaius and the Blonde Sweep as they stepped back in line. They received a slightly withering look from the Greasy Sweep and quickly quieted. Merlin glanced over to Lance, who seemed to have noticed too, but he just shrugged.

Next to them stood Morgana, a woman just a bit shorter than her with rich, coiled brown hair half tied up at the back standing half a step behind her. They took two steps forward together, “I name Gwen as my guard.”

Before she could step back, another passive aggressive cough came from George’s corner. “And of what house is your guard?” He asked without looking up from his pad.

“Gwen,” Morgana replied with a slight edge to her voice, “is of the House of Beck.” George simply nodded and the pair of Beck women stepped back.

Mordred stepped out next with a young man, perhaps a year older than him at most. “My guard is Gilly, of Tonk.” The pair exchanged grins as they snickered softly and stepped back to their places. George spared them a moment’s glance and motioned for the next pair to go. 

Arthur stepped forward with a very tall, stoic looking man who was probably a handful of years older than the rest of them. He had curly, almost red hair, and looked like he took this all almost as seriously as his candidate.

“I name Leon, of Fort, as my guard.” Arthur announced with exactly zero emotion or inflection. Good god, was he already bored with these trials? Merlin fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“And finally, Merlin. Who have you named?” The Head Sweep looked toward him, eyes bugging out slightly when they fell to Lance.

Merlin hastily stepped forward. “Um, I name Lance” he turned and eyed him quickly with a smirk. “I mean, Lancelot, as my guard. He is from the House of Tonk.”

Lancelot scowled back at Merlin and it took most of his self control not to outright laugh in return as he stepped back into line mouthing his name again. ‘Lancelot, really?’. This earned him yet another elbow to the ribs.

“Will that suffice, George?”

“And the witnesses, sire.” He responded without missing a beat, keeping his eyes on the paper as he scribbled away.

“Gaius, of Beck” Gaius spoke before the Head Sweep could say anything, which was probably a good thing as he looked more and more frustrated at the small man in the corner every time he spoke.

The Blonde Sweep spoke next, “Morgause, of Whim.” She introduced herself with a small smile on her face before looking to the Greasy Sweep to go next.

“Agravaine, of Tonk.” He said while rolling his eyes, looking far more put out than Merlin thought was warranted. 

“And I am Kilgharrah, of Fort.” The Head Sweep declared, so much pride resonating in his voice as he spoke that Merlin could feel it in his chest. What must it be like, he wondered, to have so much confidence and pride in oneself?

“Now, let us move on. I am pleased to inform you that the Chimney has already selected the first task. It will take place this evening in the workshop.”

Merlin swallowed and tried to get a look of the other candidates. Mordred, the kid, looked as nervous as Merlin felt, which did not bode well for him given that the rest of the candidates seemed perfectly unbothered. 

“You will learn exactly what is expected of you at the start of the trial. Until then, there is one more matter we must discuss: The Lists.”

He could feel the tension in the room thicken, all four of the other candidates next to him straightened their backs with their eyes trained on the Head Sweep intensely. Merlin leaned  a little closer to Lance, “What are the lists?” He whispered to Lance, who elbowed and shushed him. He was going to have to start wearing a cushion, Lance had very pointy elbows for someone so fit.

Merlin rubbed his sore ribs and made a face at Lance. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the haughty candidate, Arthur, watching him closely with a frown. Oh what now, did his pain somehow offend him, too? Merlin widened his eyes and shook his head at him as if to say, ‘what?’ and Arthur blinked a few times and turned away from Merlin, looking a little off balance for some reason.

“With Christmas coming so soon, there may very well not be time for the new Santa to check the lists, let alone check them twice if they do not start before they are chosen. Because of this, the Chimney has decided you should all start immediately. This is the one activity your guards may not be present for, given that only Santa and well, potential Santas, are allowed to see the lists. You are expected to work on them at least once a day in Santa’s Study, it is your responsibility to check them all.”

“How will we be working on them?” Merlin asked without meaning to, drawing everyone’s eyes toward him. “Sorry, is that- does everyone already know that?” He felt the tips of his ears burn. 

“No no, do not fret Merlin. No one but Santa and the Chimney know. You’ll be given the knowledge when you start.” Morgause addressed Merlin kindly. A stark difference to the look of contempt he was getting from greasy Agravaine, which he could feel down to his bones. He knew he didn’t need to mentally address him as ‘greasy’ now that he knew his name, but he couldn’t stop himself. Really, had the man never heard of shampoo?

“Now, Guards, if you would all remain here for a while, there are a few things we will need to discuss. Candidates, you may follow Gaius and Morgause to the study and begin. Your guards will collect you in a few hours.” Kilgharrah said, effectively dismissing them.

Merlin turned to Lance as the rest of the candidates began following the two Sweeps and swallowed nervously, “Well, I guess see you in a few hours?”

Lance nodded with a hint of a smile, “Relax, Merlin.” and pushed him toward the others.

Chapter Text

An hour later, Merlin sat cross-legged on the ground leaning back against one of the massive bookcases. Mordred sat in one of the plush armchairs facing away from him, Morgana and Sophia sat at opposite ends of the room at the two long tables. And Arthur, well Arthur paced around the room as he read, occasionally pausing to lean against the shelf on the other side of the fire. Occasionally Merlin found it hard to concentrate because he wanted nothing more than to stick his leg out the next time Arthur came around and trip him. 

Merlin wasn’t usually someone prone to anger or violence, generally he was quite a happy person. Well, maybe not happy, but he was kind. But Arthur would have deserved it for the way he acted toward Merlin, despite them not knowing each other at all. Merlin had faced bullies before but he couldn’t help wondering how the hell the Chimney picked a bully as a candidate for the next Santa. He hoped he was wrong about him, but the way he acted when they first entered the study did nothing to ease his mind.

When they arrived, Morgause explained that they would each place one hand on the mantle together, and the Chimney would do the rest. They gathered around and though there was plenty of room on his left, Arthur practically shoved Merlin over to stand to his right, placing his left hand on the mantle and angling away so his back was turned to Merlin.

Merlin huffed and started to say something, but all at once his vision blurred to darkness. He could faintly hear the others reacting, someone whimpered and another chuckled incredulously. The darkness shifted to a warm gold and without actually hearing anything, Merlin simply knew how to check the lists. It was incredible, the Chimney essentially granted him the knowledge without so much as a word. Was this always how it communicated? He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected, but he did assume it had a voice of some kind.

When the gold faded and his normal sight slowly returned, Merlin along with the others took their hands off the mantle, everyone reacting to the odd sensation in their palms. Mordred especially so, as he was holding his hand barely a centimeter away from his face and staring at his palm in wonder.

Gaius cleared his throat behind them, and they turned to see him and Morgause standing at the door. “You all know what to do now, yes?” He asked, his eyebrow raising particularly higher as he eyed Merlin. The candidates all nodded in return. “Good. As it is your first day, you will be expected to do your work now. After today, you may come and go when it fits best with your schedules. Understood?” Again, the eyebrow flicked higher (though Merlin didn’t think it was aimed at him this time). And again, they all nodded their understanding. “Well then, get to work. Someone will knock when it’s time to leave.”

And with that, the pair of Sweeps left the room. The candidates all sort of hovered around for a moment until Morgana flipped her hair behind her and grabbed a book from the bookcase before making her way to a table. Merlin backed up several steps to look at both shelves. There had to be at least a thousand books up there, each with the files of every child in the world, and whether they were deemed Naughty or Nice. It was absurd to think about. Every single child? 

Their task was to review each of the books, confirming every child’s designation. Somehow, Merlin knew that there were rarely any changes to make to the list, but it did actually have to be checked twice. Couldn’t leave anyone out, he supposed. 

The idea that the Naughty children got coal was, thankfully, just a myth in Merlin’s world. The lists did not determine who got a present and who didn’t, but rather what kind of present they received. Some received exactly what they wanted, others something they would like but not quite as much. And on the ends of the spectrum, the Nicest kids received the closest thing they could get to their heart’s desire, while the Naughtiest kids received something they would almost certainly never want. Not a mean or unpleasant gift, just something the kid would throw into the back of his closet and forget about. Merlin thought it a bit cruel, and wasteful, but he’d known better than to voice that opinion there.

Slowly, the other candidates each grabbed a book and found their way to the different areas they now reside. Opening to the first page, Merlin touched the first child’s name and instantly knew their story. The good, bad, and ugly. For some of the kids, the ones who behaved decently and really just didn’t have a ton of challenges in their lives thus far, the review was quick. Others, the ones who have faced hardships and abuses of all kinds, those were a much slower process - for Merlin at least.

There was so much to consider for each child, what limitations did they face, what obstacles had they overcome, what support did they have in their lives… he had to think through all of it before knowing with certainty if a child was naughty or nice. He supposed he could just go off his first inclination, and based on how quickly the other candidates in the room seemed to be flipping through their books; that was likely what they were doing. But he knew in his gut that wasn’t right. These kids deserved his attention, not for him to flip past them with a quick judgement despite the context of their lives.

Merlin had made it through half of his first book when both Arthur and Morgana exchanged theirs for a second. Mordred was not far behind, and when Merlin looked toward Sophia, he saw that she wasn’t even looking at her book but staring into the Chimney with clear interest on her face. She must have sensed his gaze because she suddenly turned to look directly at him. Her face faltered for a moment before she blinked rapidly and returned to her usual, unbothered smile and she picked her book up again. 

Despite getting several hours of sleep, by the time Merlin reached the end of his first book he’d fallen asleep three times. At some point his legs had spread out in front of him and his head kept falling forward as he dropped off into sleep. He caught himself a few times, his head rebounding suddenly and, unfortunately, slamming back into the bookcase behind him. Each time he got an array of reactions from the others. Mordred gave him a look of sympathy each time, and Morgana seemed intrigued more than anything else. Sophia never bothered to look and Arthur just huffed with annoyance and turned away as soon as Merlin looked at him. He must have fallen all the way asleep at one point, because one minute he was learning about a girl named Katie from America and the next he was being kicked in the shin. 

He jolted awake to see Arthur of all people standing over him, frowning deeply before stepping over Merlin’s legs and walking away. Merlin scowled at him, he hadn’t even tried to make it look like an accident, did he? He just walked up, kicked Merlin, and walked away.

What a prat.

Before Merlin found his place in his book again, there was a knock at the door. Everyone looked around at each other briefly before returning their books to the shelves and making their way toward the door.

Outside stood their guards, awkwardly standing with each other as they silently waited. Lance smiled as Merlin walked to him and for the first time, Merlin actually believed Lance wanted to be there, and he smiled brightly in return. 

Before he could utter a word, Merlin’s stomach roared so loudly he could have sworn there was a dragon in the hallway with them. All eyes turned toward him, some amused while others (Arthur and Sophia) looked disgusted. Merlin laughed and turned toward the door to the building exit with Lance.

“Please tell me there’s food somewhere nearby, I’m bloody starving.” He wrapped his arms around his stomach and Lance just laughed as he patted Merlin on the back.

Later that afternoon, Merlin reclined lazily in one of the armchairs in his flat, his stomach unbelievably full while Lance mirrored him in the chair across from him. The change in Lance from when they first met to now was vast. He was quick to laugh and even quicker to tease him, though there was never any bite to his words. Plus, Merlin got in several of his own taunts, especially so when he called him Lancelot. It was not the craziest name in the world, frankly most of the Elves had weird names but something about Lance-a-lot was just too silly to actually be real. And as Merlin sighed happily in his chair, he knew that they were becoming real friends. It was more than Merlin thought to ask for this Christmas. If nothing else came from this insane experience, at least he’ll have made a friend.

After checking the lists for hours and filling his stomach so full he thought maybe he actually could be Santa – he had the belly full of jelly at least – Merlin had forgotten to worry about the trial that evening. When he remembered, he bolted upright and looked over to Lance with wild eyes.

“Lance, the trial. I haven’t done anything to prepare, I don’t even know when it is!”

Lance barely batted an eye, “It’s in an hour Merlin, and we have no idea what it’ll be so there’s no possible way for you to prepare. Sit back and quiet your mind.” Merlin sat back, but his mind was louder than ever. Lance must have sensed it because he huffed and sat up to look directly at Merlin. “From what I hear you did great last night.”

“Really?” Merlin’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “What did you hear?”

“Something about butterflies appearing out of thin air.”

“But that wasn’t anything impressive, I’ve been able to do that since I was a kid.”

Lance, for the first time in their conversation, looked shocked. “You have?”

Merlin groaned and sat back in his chair, pouting. “Noooo. Don’t tell me that’s not normal. I can’t take it.”

Lance laughed and leaned toward Merlin. “No one has seen Flor magic in years, Merlin. Natural magic is, well, it’s foreign to us. But that doesn't mean it’s not normal.”

Merlin rolled his head to face Lance but refused to stop pouting. “Really?”

Lance rolled his eyes as he stood, ruffling Merlin’s hair as he walked toward the lou. “Really.”

Chapter Text

“Let your first trial begin!” 

Cheers sounded from the crowd surrounding them in response to Morgause’s declaration. He, along with the other candidates, stood at his workbench in the center ring of the Workshop tasked with creating a gift from scratch. When they arrived, they’d formed their usual line and one by one, reached into a basket to retrieve the main ‘material’ for their gifts. Sophie had gotten a square sheet of glass, Morgana retrieved a weird, sort of rubbery lump of clay. He had never seen anything like it before but she seemed pleased with it. Mordred had pulled out a large spool of string.

When it was his turn, Arthur pulled out two dense blocks of metal; the smaller one looked to be copper while the larger appeared to be their usual Pole alloy. Releasing a slow breath, careful not to let his nerves show on his face, Arthur nodded to Morgause and returned to his workbench. From there, he watched as that clumsy nuisance, Merlin, retrieved a small wooden log. A few gasps sounded throughout the room as the crowd learned what he’d gotten. 

It shouldn’t be that surprising, Flor’s were notorious for any magic involving nature, though he supposed it wasn’t all that common to know that anymore. From what he’d learned from his uncle and father, the Flor House was the most unreliable house - even compared to Whim. They would change their opinions quickly, thought they knew better than anyone else, and often scoffed at the other Houses for having more limited magic. It was said that they were a proud house and for reasons unknown, each generation produced fewer and fewer heirs until finally, the House all but ended. 

That is, until this damned human arrived and threw the Pole into chaos. He’d never seen his uncle so distraught the day the Chimney refused to start the trials, Arthur was almost grateful his father wasn’t around to witness it. He shuttered to think how much more pressure would be on him if his uncle and his father were there. This competition was going to be hard enough on its own, he didn’t need two voices telling him how imperative it was that he won, that it was his destiny to be Santa Claus. 

Speaking of the competition, Arthur peered to his left to see the three Pole-born candidates hard at work. Morgana was handling her clay, Mordred’s strings were hovering in front of him as half pulled themselves into several smaller strings while others weaved together to make larger ones. Sophia was hovering her hands over the sheet of glass but not really doing anything else. Dropping his eyes back to his desk, Arthur started unfolding his metal blocks into larger sheets, using his thumb nail to separate them into smaller pieces after he’d gotten them thin enough. 

Arthur tried to ignore the nagging feeling in his gut to peek at what Merlin was doing. He’d been successful for a few minutes but when he heard a frustrated huff beside him, he turned without a thought. Merlin was standing with his arms crossed in front of him, simply staring at the log on his tabletop with an awfully ridiculous scrunched up expression on his face. Arthur watched him for another thirty seconds, maybe a minute but still he hadn’t moved a muscle. Lifting his eyes to check the large clock that Kilgharrah had illuminated in the air above them, Arthur was surprised to see a full seven minutes had already passed Merlin had done absolutely nothing. What was this guy’s deal?

His eyes dropped back to the boy watching his log and before he could think better of it, Arthur pointedly cleared his throat. Merlin jumped slightly but turned almost instantly to Arthur who was fighting desperately hard not to smile at how absurd Merlin had looked just then. He dropped his eyes from Merlin to his log, then pointedly up to the clock before returning to Merlin. His eyes grew a little wider as he hesitated a moment before blinking, picking up a carving tool and getting to work. Shaking his head, Arthur returned his gaze to the metal on his table and focused on his own creation.

Along the outer walls of the Workshop were twenty or so small rooms, called the cellars. Each cellar was filled with various materials that one might need to use when creating toys. Before they started, Agravaine had been tasked with announcing the rules: the candidates could use any magic to create their gifts. They could also use anything out of the cellars, however they were not allowed to step outside the inner ring where the workbenches had been set up. To mark this, one of the Sweeps magicked an illuminated line around the boundary.

For most of them, this would be practically a non-issue. Beck and Tonk would have no problem summoning anything, and though he, as a Fort, would face a bit more of a challenge than them, Whim and Flor were certainly at a disadvantage. Fort was known for being able to magic themselves strong, but their magic was much more complex than that. Not many Fort elves thought to push their magic any further than the basics – like becoming strong – but it was more about altering the density of his extremities than simply making oneself strong. With a lot of practice, Arthur could not only make his arms strong as steel, but he could also reduce the density so much that he could bend and stretch them as if they were elastic.

When it came time for Arthur to collect a few things from the cellars, he simply stretched his arm as much as possible, crossing right in front of Merlin’s workbench and over the heads of fifty onlookers to reach the materials he needed. It was exhausting work and by the time he had returned to working at his bench, a few beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. 

Swiping it away, he started collecting small shavings of metal by scratching his nails against the edge. He was about half-way done when a loud gasp sounded beside him. Arthur’s eyes sprang toward the noise to find Merlin scanning the crowd around them with a determined look on his face. He watched as Merlin’s eyes lit up and he raced to the boundary line, toward a confused looking Lance. Arthur’s eyes drifted next to them to see his friend and guard, Leon, clearly watching them as well. While they were too far away to hear, Arthur watched Lance’s face drop before looking warily over his shoulder toward the cellars. Merlin nodded encouragingly before returning to his bench. 

Not quick enough to react when Merlin caught him watching him, Arthur just stared blankly back at Merlin. After a moment, he rolled his eyes and went back to working on his log. Arthur was surprised to see it had changed drastically since the last time he’d looked. It was a much longer, narrower piece of bare wood and there were shavings littering his tabletop and clothes. Shaking his head to clear it, Arthur returned to his own work - determined not to be distracted again.

Taking the strip of copper he’d peeled off and twisted into a coil, Arthur wrapped it around a small bit of plastic with a metal tip. He held the end of the coil to either end of a small battery he’d retrieved, creating a magnetic energy onto the end of the stylus he’d created. He’d also retrieved a small postcard of a Christmas tree and using some trick magic, he cleared away all the decorations except the string lights and star on top. He adhered it to the bottom of the thin rectangular box he’d molded and brushed all the dyed metal shavings on top to create a mess of shining red and gold. He closed the box with a thin glass top and tested it out. 

Smiling proudly, Arthur set his finished project down onto the center of his table and peered up to watch the last minutes of their hour tick away. When there was fifteen seconds left, Bayard, one of the Sweeps, shouted for the crowd to join in and they were quickly counted down to the end of their first trial. Heaving a sigh of relief, Arthur forced his eyes to find Morgause rather than peek at what the other candidates had made. 

“Sophia, would you please bring your gift forward?” Sophie smiled enchantingly as she floated to the front table where the basket still sat. She lifted her hand to reveal a beautiful stained glass sun catcher with a peaceful Christmas scene dangling from her finger. The crowd ooh’d and ahh’d as she let it rotate in front of her for a minutel Morgause then directed her to place it in the basket and return to her place, calling Morgana up next.

She presented a toddler sized rocking horse, it was monochromatic but somehow still dynamic with its shading - like a work of art, Arthur thought. It was also about five-times the size of the original clump of rubbery clay she’d received in the first place. Morgause smiled her approval but Morgana just put it in the basket without making eye contact and returned to her bench, obviously ignoring her. Arthur didn’t know his cousin well, but Morgana was certainly acting strangely ever since she was named as a candidate. When they were younger, he could have just asked her; they could have talked. But ever since they turned sixteen, they’d been nothing more than strangers to one another. His father burned a lot of bridges before his untimely demise, many of which Arthur would happily rebuild if given the chance.

Shaking his head, Arthur returned his focus to the trial as Mordred presented a woven baseball glove with a massive smile on his face. Arthur couldn’t help smiling in return, but quickly ducked his head before someone could see. He was supposed to remain stoic and unfeeling, unbothered by the sheer magnitude of importance that these trials held. 

When it was his turn, Arthur squared his shoulders and brought his gift to the front. Morgause eyed him curiously, holding the gift in her hands, clearly unsure what it was. He handed her the stylus, showing her how to drag it across the glass and watched as her eyes lit up. Dragging the stylus this way and that, Morgause pulled the colorful shards around the box, using them to decorate the tree. She smiled brightly at him as she dismissed him and he fought to keep his face in check as he got back to his table. 

Merlin approached the front table very hesitantly after him, though he still stood tall, holding his gift close to chest so it was hidden from Arthur’s line of vision. He watched as Morgause took it from him and lifted it up in front of her with keen eyes. He’d made a little flute from the wood log. Not bad for an idiot, Arthur thought fleetingly. 

Just when Merlin had turned to go back to his workstation, Agravaine rushed forward to stand next to Morgause. “Excuse me, I do hate to sour the event, but I rather think he has some explaining to do.” Confusion spread across everyone’s faces, no one’s more so than Merlin’s.

“Whatever do you mean, Agravaine?” Morgause asked through a tight lipped smile.

“Merlin.” Agravaine addressed him, not even acknowledging her. “How did you acquire the extra materials used in this task?” He stared at Merlin with a deeply unpleasant frown.

Arthur watched as Merlin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before seeing something flash in his eyes. He stood up straighter and looked his uncle directly in the eye, clearly unbothered by the loosely veiled accusation.

“I used magic.” He responded matter of factly.

“Whose magic?” Agravaine sneered, eliciting sounds of surprise and interest from the crowd around them.

“My guard, Lance.” Agravaine smiled wickedly as people reacted to his answer. Arthur glanced over his shoulder toward Lance and Leon, who both looked far more calm than many of the people around them. 

“That’s cheating!” Mordred whined loudly.

“No.” It was Morgana who spoke up first, loudly enough that most of the crowd quieted to listen. “No, it was just very, very clever.” She eyed Merlin with clear interest and admiration.

Merlin flashed a soft smile toward her before turning back to the Sweeps with a neutral expression. “We were allowed to use any magic, and I couldn’t figure out how to retrieve what I needed with my own. So I used his.”

It was smart, Arthur admitted, and probably would have made his work much simpler if he’d thought of that instead of spending so much energy on his arms. He watched as Agravaine stuttered, clearly caught off guard. 

“I see no issue with his strategy, so unless there are further objections-” She let her voice trail off, peering around the group of Sweeps for a silent moment before addressing the room. “Then, let us conclude the evening there. Thank you all for bearing witness to our first trail. As a reminder: the Chimney will assign placements for each task but will not divulge its running score until the end. It is important to remember,” She paused and peered down the line of candidates, “that even though we will know how you fare trial to trial, the Chimney does not decide solely on this. It will consider all you do, not just the final result.”

She dismissed the crowd, allowing the room to empty substantially before continuing to address them.

“Well done, Candidates, truly. You are free to go enjoy your evenings and celebrate a job well done.” She smiled as she looked person to person. “Please return to the Hall lobby tomorrow morning with your guards. The Chimney has some information about the next trial it wishes to share with you ahead of time. And do not forget, you must spend time each day with the lists.”

The candidates all nodded their understanding and dispersed. Arthur turned to meet Leon by the boundary line. “Well done, Arthur.” His friend greeted him with a smile.

Arthur nodded his thanks, about to respond when a voice next to them squawked loudly. They turned to see Merlin waving his hands in the air as he stared bug-eyed at Lance, who was clearly biting down a laugh. The pair walked away a moment later, speaking too quietly for Arthur to hear what had Merlin in such a state. Rolling his eyes, he and Leon exited from the opposite side of the building.

“Fancy a curry?” Leon asked as they stepped out of the workshop and, as if on cue, Arthur’s stomach grumbled loudly. They laughed briefly and without a word, set off into the brisk night air.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean there’s no coffee here?” Merlin gasped, looking around with a scandalized hand on his chest.

Morgana chuckled and rolled her eyes at him. “Well, there is technically coffee at Gwen’s shoppe I think, but it hasn’t been ordered since before her dad retired years ago.”

Merlin attempted to respond but was interrupted by yet another yawn. Lifting his hand to cover his mouth and closing his eyes, he missed the massive side-eye he was receiving from Arthur across the study where he huffed and went back to his book. It wasn’t unwarranted, Merlin had yawned probably five times since he’d arrived twenty minutes before.

It had been one week since the first trial and Merlin had yet to really find his place in the Pole. Everywhere he went, people gawked or scowled at him. Very few tried talking to him and when they did, it was either questions about why his parents left or some passive aggressive comment about how he had no right competing to be Santa. So, all-in-all, things hadn’t been great. His body had also seemed to realize how far from home it was, because the jetlag he’d felt since the day after the first trial was borderline debilitating. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get his internal clock to adjust and he spent most nights wide awake and most evenings fighting to stay awake.

It had made the day after the trial especially difficult, as Lance had forgotten to tell him how he was supposed to magically know what time it was, or when he was expected to be at the Hall, when he left the night before. So he was once again woken by Lance pounding on his front door. They managed to arrive with one minute to spare, though Merlin was essentially sleepwalking, even after braving the cold morning air for five minutes on their way there. He had to ask Lance twice to repeat what Kilgharrah had said because his mind kept drifting back to sleep.

The morning meeting that day was brief, so brief it seemed like perhaps it didn’t need to be at the arsecrack of dawn. Merlin voiced this to Lance, a little too loudly, and both Morgana and Mordred had overheard and laughed, earning him scowls from a couple Sweeps nearby and – you guessed it – an elbow to the ribs from Lance. During said brief meeting, they announced that Arthur had taken first place in the first trial, followed by Morgana, Mordred, and then Merlin, with Sophia at the bottom. Merlin was shocked he wasn't last, especially considering his flute was not at all tuned and probably sounded atrocious when played, but he was happy nonetheless.

 Kilgharrah also told them what their third trial would be, sort of. He said he didn’t have the exact specifics, but that the Chimney wanted the candidates to know ahead of time that it would involve the reindeer and that the candidates should consider using the weeks between the first and third trial to acquaint themselves with the reindeer if they hadn’t already. At that moment, Merlin realized he’d never actually asked about the logistics of the whole ‘Santa/delivering gifts in the night’ thing. There were already so many differences from the ‘usual’ stories from his world that he assumed it wouldn’t be a sleigh pulled by magical flying reindeer but it turned out that was exactly how it worked. According to Gaius, it was one of the only things the myths of his world had gotten right. 

Merlin had begged Lance to help him with the reindeer, and - being his guard and therefore technically not allowed to not go where Merlin went - he obliged. His presence, however, was anything but helpful as it turned out Lance was extremely afraid of reindeer and could hardly bring himself to step into the stables. Merlin appreciated his attempts, but after Lance sprinted from the stables to keep a reindeer from sniffing his hand for the third day in a row, he accepted that he would just not do well in the third trial and stopped forcing Lance to face his fears.

While the date for the third trial had still not been set, the second would be a week from that meeting - which was tomorrow. They hadn’t been given any advance information for this one, just like the first trial, so there wasn’t anything to truly prepare for. In the days between trials, the lives of the candidates largely went back to ‘normal’ - barring Merlin, of course. Mordred attended school during the day and checked the lists before the sun even came up most days. Merlin didn’t actually know what the rest of them did all day, just that most evenings when he arrived in the study, Morgana and Arthur were either already in there or arrived shortly after him. And he hadn’t seen Sophia since they were dismissed from the last meeting.

Merlin spent much of the daytime sleeping, waking long enough to eat and shower before retiring to the study for the evening after the unsuccessful reindeer sessions. He had tried exploring the Pole one day, but the stares and comments he’d received were enough to keep him inside. Not to mention Lance had his own life and responsibilities to attend to, he wouldn’t ask him to drop everything so Merlin could faff about the shoppes in the square til he got bored.

The first couple days of working in the study were much the same as their first, Morgana sat at the table, Merlin on the floor, and Arthur oscillated between pacing and sitting at the opposite end of Morgana’s table. On the third evening, Merlin had arrived to an empty study, the only sign of life being the ever-blazing fire in the Chimney. Taking advantage of the privacy, Merlin poked around the study curiously. The most interesting things he found were some sketches of toys and Santa Suits on the shelf behind Santa’s desk and a book on the Pole’s History. 

He was most curious, though, about the Chimney. He wondered if he could touch it, communicate with it… would it talk to him? Could it without a Sweep being present? How did it work?

He eyed it several times as he explored the room and just when he decided there would be no harm in touching the mantle, just to see, the door to the study swung open and Morgana stepped inside. Merlin muttered a hello and quickly retreated to his spot on the floor. He felt her watching him for a while and when he finally looked up, she smiled and moved to grab a book off the shelves. He had just touched the first name in his own book when a scraping noise pulled his attention away from it. He looked up to see Morgana pulling a nearby armchair closer to Merlin and the warm fire. She didn’t look back up at him until she had settled herself into the chair with her feet up, having gone back for the footstool, too; but when she did, she met Merlin’s gaze with narrowed eyes and a cheeky smirk. 

“Alright?” She asked with a raised eyebrow, as if she were setting a challenge for him.

He nodded with a questioning smile and returned to his book, determined to focus. He’d been successful for about five minutes before Arthur came bustling into the room. He seemed to be in an extraordinarily bad mood, which was saying something considering he always seemed to be in a bad mood. He frowned at their proximity and seemed to falter for a moment at their arrangement before stalking to the case and grabbing a book. He sat at the far end of the table, dropping his book loudly onto it as he sat down. Merlin caught Morgana rolling her eyes and bit down a laugh, happy to know he wasn’t the only one who noticed Sir Sour-Pants’ moodiness.

Ten or fifteen names later, Morgana leaned forward slightly in her chair. “Merlin?”

“Hmm?” He responded, too engaged with the most interesting file he’d looked at thus far to look up at her.

“Why are you here?”

Merlin looked up in surprise, and saw over Morgana’s shoulder that Arthur, too, had stopped reading and turned toward her. He did his best to ignore him, responding with a slightly teasing lilt in his voice. “What, in the study?” 

Morgana scoffed lightly, “No, Merlin. Why are you here, in the Pole? From what I’ve heard, you knew nothing about us before now, right?” Merlin nodded. “What made you drop everything to be a part of this?” Morgana looked at him with obvious, but genuine, curiosity. Arthur had turned back to his book but one look at him made it clear to Merlin he was listening intently, too.

“Um, well I guess it’s kind of a long story…but when Lance came to get me, it seemed important, so I agreed to go back with him.” He trailed off, hoping she’d let it be and they could go back to working. It’s not that he didn’t want her to know him more, it’s just that he was already such an oddity to them – what would they think if they knew he had no life, nothing worth staying for?

Morgana pointedly closed her book and set it on her lap, staring intently at Merlin; she wasn’t going to accept his half-arsed answer. Part of him wanted to lie, but she was the first person to ask in a way that felt real. Like she actually wanted to know about him, not just discover some new detail to gossip about.

He exhaled and set his book aside, “You’re right, I had no idea about any of this until Lance showed up at my work and demanded I was an elf.” He chuckled lightly. “Someone called me for weeks before he showed up, but I assumed it was some kind of prank and stopped answering. I mean no one in my world would hear, ‘You’re needed in the North Pole’ seriously. After Lance realized I had no bloody idea what he was talking about, he explained what this place was and why I was needed here.” Merlin shrugged with a sad sort of smile. “And I wasn’t really needed anywhere else, so I agreed.”

“Huh.” Morgana said under her breath, staring at him thoughtfully for a long time before she returned to her book without another word. Following her lead, Merlin retrieved his own book and picked up where he left off. The next day, Merlin arrived after Arthur but before Morgana. When she arrived, she again moved the chair closer to him – Merlin wondered vaguely who had moved it back to begin with. After half an hour or so, she closed her book noisily and skipped the preamble.

“Did you have to settle many things before coming here?”

“What can you mean?” Merlin asked, placing his book upside down next to him to keep his place. 

“You said Lancelot found you at work, what excuse did you give them for suddenly leaving? Where do your friends and family think you are?”

Merlin swallowed, “The cafe I work at is closed for a few weeks at the end of the year anyway, so I just told my boss I was travelling and I’d let him know when he can put me on the schedule again.” His eyes dropped to his hands on his lap, where he picked at his thumbnail. “And I don’t really have any friends or family who would notice I was gone this time of year.”

“Oh.” Morgana looked at him sympathetically, though Merlin just felt pitied and it made his skin crawl.

“I mean I have friends, but I mostly keep to myself this time of year anyway, so it’s not weird for them not to hear from me until January.”

“Can I ask why?” 

Merlin smiled softly, “Christmas was my mum and I’s favorite holiday, which makes way more sense now that I know she was an elf. But uh…” Merlin cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. When he lifted his eyes back to Morgana, Arthur wasn’t even pretending not to listen as he stared blank-faced at Merlin over her shoulder. He shook his head briefly and continued. “Well, she died seven years ago, on Christmas Eve, rather tragically… So as you can imagine, I’m not the best yuletide company.” Merlin chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere in the room.

Without meaning to, his eyes flicked to Arthur again, who was frowning now - though in a thoughtful way rather than pompous, like usual. Great, he thought as he looked back to his hands, cue the pity niceties and awkward condolences… he hated that. He should have just lied and said he told people he was on vacation abroad and left it at that.

“My mum died on Christmas, too. Thirteen years ago.”

Merlin’s eyes widened as they shot back up to Arthur. The two stared at one another for several moments, something unspoken passing between them. Eventually, Morgana shifted in her seat and broke the spell. Merlin cleared his throat and gave Arthur one last look, “I’m sorry.”

He nodded tightly. “Me too.” 

That was the end of the chatting that night, the three quietly went back to working on their lists though Merlin only managed to stay another fifteen minutes before he couldn’t stand the awkward, vulnerable silence and called it a night. Lance could tell he was in a weird mood as they silently walked back to his room, but graciously let it go after Merlin dismissed his concern the first time. 

The next evening, Merlin decided to start asking Morgana questions; about life here and what it must have been like to grow up in the North Pole. He tried asking Arthur something innocuous to try and break the ice, but he grumbled a response and refused to look up at him. So Merlin quickly gave that up and stuck with getting to know Morgana. By the time the night before the second trial came around, they were almost friends.

“Gwen is your guard, right?” Morgana smiled and nodded. “Is it open right now? Can we go get some coffee? Please, Morgana, I’m actually dying here.”

She laughed and told him to wait a moment as she slipped into the hallway, where their guards were waiting for them. Merlin usually told Lance to go do whatever he wanted and to come back in a few hours, no reason to sit in the hallway twiddling his thumbs, but he had no idea if he ever actually did so. 

After a minute, Morgana came back into the room grinning. “Let’s go.” 

Merlin jumped up, quickly put his book away and gathered his things. He was a step out the door when he hesitated, turning back slightly with an annoying nagging feeling telling him to be inclusive. “Do you want to join us?” Arthur didn’t so much as shift in his seat and Merlin couldn't tell if he was ignoring him or just didn’t hear him. Raising his voice slightly, he took a step back into the study. “Arthur?” 

Arthur flinched and looked up at him with a soft look of surprise. It was the softest expression he’d seen on Arthur’s face thus far, and Merlin dutifully ignored the rush of attraction that passed through him. “Do you want to go to Gwen’s shoppe with us?” Arthur’s eyebrows rose even higher in surprise but Merlin couldn’t read the reason behind it. “Or we could bring you something back?”

He watched Arthur swallow and blink several times before answering shortly, enough bite to it that Merlin regretted even offering, “No.”

Merlin scowled back at him as he turned and exited the study, muttering under his breath, “Bloody prat.”

Chapter Text

The candidates found themselves back in the workshop for their second trial. Instead of workbenches, there were two long rectangular tables lined up next to each other facing a small dais. At each place sat a closed A4 portfolio and a pen. The first three candidates sat at the table on the left, leaving the two seats at the right table for Arthur and Merlin. 

Before he arrived in the workshop, Merlin had spent an hour or so trying to track down Gaius. He and Lance roamed everywhere he could think of but had no luck. Merlin had wanted to do it sooner, as soon as Gaius had told him he knew his mother, actually, but he had been so utterly exhausted that he didn’t have it in him. Now that he was properly caffeinated, though, he could hardly wait another minute.

It had been a struggle to get Gwen to even fetch the coffee out of storage, let alone brew some, and after one sip - Merlin understood why. It was horrendous. With a little cajoling, and some not so subtle looks from Morgana over his shoulder, Gwen agreed to let him show her how to make a proper cup of coffee. He, along with Morgana, Gwen, and Lance, spent an hour getting to know one another as Merlin forced them all to try the different drinks he and Gwen made together. He had proudly gotten Lance to admit he actually liked coffee.

Having noticed more than a few looks in Gwen’s direction from Lance throughout the night, Merlin promptly badgered him about it the moment they were alone. This earned him yet another elbow jab, though it escalated to a quick shove in the opposite direction when he called him ‘Lancelot’. After listening to Lance go on and on about how he should mind his own business and stop worrying about his love life - ‘No, not my love life, Merlin. Gah just - oh shut up!’ He decided to let it be for now, but made no promises not to bring it up again later.

Standing behind his chair in the workshop, Merlin peered over his shoulder and flashed a quick smile at Lance, who smiled back but quickly frowned when Merlin’s eyes trailed toward Gwen and back. With a laugh, Merlin turned back to the center of the room and took his seat next to Arthur. Exchanging glances but no pleasantries, the two sat quietly and waited for the trial to begin. The occasional huff of air sounded from Arthur every time Merlin anxiously began tapping his fingers on the table.

After the third or fifth time, Arthur finally looked over at him and hissed. “Would you please stop that?” 

Merlin grimaced guilty and muttered an apology, clasping his hands together in his lap. A minute later, the old Sweep who sat next to Gaius stepped onto a dais in front of their tables, quieting the crowd. Without thinking, Merlin leaned toward Arthur, “What’s that bloke’s name?”

Arthur practically jumped when he saw how close Merlin had gotten and Merlin gave him a funny look. When Arthur didn’t answer for a full thirty seconds, Merlin sighed loudly and leaned back into his seat.

Still facing forward, Arthur cleared his throat. “That is Master Geoffrey of Beck. He’s been a Sweep longer than anyone else. And he’s been through the most trials, too.” Merlin nodded, happy to actually be getting an answer and already poised to ask more questions when Geoffrey started speaking jovially.

“Welcome! Today, our candidates will participate in the second trial. The Chimney has set a rather interesting test, if I do say so myself. We have not seen something like this before, so I believe you are all in for a real treat!” The crowd excitedly whispered to one another and Merlin felt Arthur tense next to him. “The Chimney has fabricated ten profiles of children from across the world. The candidates will have up to an hour to review all ten profiles and select the gift they think fits the child and their naughty or nice designation most accurately.”

Louder murmurs sounded through the crowd and Merlin curiously turned to look at the other candidates. While no one was obviously worried, it seemed like Arthur was more nervous than most. His fists were clenched on top of the table, so much so that his knuckles were just beginning to turn white. Merlin felt the urge to do something… say something to ease his nerves all of a sudden. He didn’t exactly like Arthur, who was consistently rude to him, but when his gut told him what to do so explicitly, Merlin couldn’t ignore it. Humming softly under his breath, he started tapping his hand on the table again and fidgeted in his seat, trying to wear his nerves on his sleeve, so to speak.

“Damn, I’m gonna be shite at this.” Merlin lamented under his breath, smiling ruefully when Arthur surprisingly turned to look at him. “You're lucky you’ve lived here your whole life, at the very least you’ve all probably picked up a thing or two about choosing gifts. I usually just give people lots of booze.” 

Arthur let out an amused scoff with a smirk. Merlin returned his almost smile and when it seemed like maybe Arthur actually started to relax, someone across the room sneezed loudly and he quickly turned away, knuckles once again fading to white as he dutifully faced forward.

“Candidates, once you have selected your gift for all ten children, close your portfolio and remain seated until all five of you are finished. Understood?” They all nodded their understanding and watched as a large countdown clock materialized in the air above them with a wave of Geoffrey’s hand. “Wonderful! Well, then, let’s get on with it… Candidates, you may begin!”

Merlin pulled the portfolio closer to him and closed his eyes, forcing his mind to block out all the noise and people around him. When he opened his eyes, it was almost as if he had tunnel vision, he knew there were still a hundred elves watching him and that Arthur was still an arm’s length away, but his conscious awareness had narrowed greatly. With a relieved smile, Merlin opened his portfolio and set to work.

The first three children were all very straight forward, two perfectly nice kids who all had very obvious interests and therefore very obvious gift choices, and one naughty child who seemingly hated everything so there were very few things that wouldn’t fit the bill. 

The files after those three, however, began to get more and more complex. A naughty kid with a difficult home life but who always took care of his younger sister after school. A teenage basketball star who secretly had a passion for music. One of the toughest was the seventh profile, a young girl who desperately wanted to play soccer but whose parents wouldn’t allow it. If he got that girl a soccer ball, she would certainly love it, but would her parents just take it away? Would it cause problems for her and therefore actually be the worst gift to get her? Considering the hundreds of what-ifs for each kid had started to make his head pound. 

But Merlin still took his time on each choice, much like he did with the lists, making sure he didn’t miss anything before deciding. The last profile was a seven year old girl from Brazil who had been acting out more and more over the last year. She loved all things colorful, magical, and sparkling. Looking further into her story, Merlin learned she had lost her notebook filled with stories she and her father had spent hours creating together. He had passed away earlier this year, and no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t find the little blue notebook anywhere.

Merlin wasn’t exactly sure if there were real ‘parameters’ to what could be chosen as a gift - if it needed to be something they could actually create or if, for the purpose of this trial, it didn’t need to be realistic. He would have chosen something simple, like a small stuffed pegasus or something, but knew in his gut that she deserved the best gift possible, not just something she would like. That little blue notebook would hands down be the best gift for her. It was obvious her ‘naughtiness’ was no fault of her own. She was a seven year old grieving her father, of course she was going to talk back to her teachers and mum every once in a while. Merlin certainly had.

As he contemplated his final choice, he lifted his head to stretch his neck and noticed nearly every eye in the room was on him. Glancing to his left, he saw that all four other candidates were sitting with their folders closed and watching him with varying levels of patience, or lack thereof. His eyes bugged out briefly and he quickly bent low over the folder to finish writing the last gift choice. Glancing up at the clock, there were just over two and a half minutes left. Merlin cautiously closed his portfolio and avoided making eye contact with anyone. He’d used the entire hour and by the looks on several faces, no one else had come even close.

“Wonderful, now that our candidates are all finished, we can move onto part two!” Geoffrey beamed out to the crowd and all five candidates sat a little taller in their seats as the audience once again devolved into whispered conversations. 

“Did you know there was a second part?”

Merlin almost hadn’t acknowledged him, assuming Arthur’s question was for someone - anyone - else but sure enough, when he’d glanced over Arthur was looking at him nervously. After faltering a moment, Merlin shrugged and shook his head. Arthur sighed and cracked his neck, clenching his jaw as he turned back to face the front. Despite knowing better, Merlin couldn’t quite pull his eyes from Arthur’s profile as he clenched his jaw two more times. Finally, Geoffrey spoke again and that strange spell was broken.

“We will now see the gifts chosen by our candidates. The Sweeps will then be given the opportunity to conduct interviews if they wish to know more about their choices. Let us begin!”

With a wave of his hand, their portfolios flew off their tables and into a neat pile next to Goeffrey. As that happened, two other Sweeps were maneuvering three tabletop microphones onto the tables between the candidates from where they sat nearby. Another group worked together as five blank, light blue rectangles fizzled into existence, floating above each candidate. 

“For the first child, your candidates chose…” his voice trailed off as he peered up to the rectangles. Everyone followed his gaze and watched as images of what they’d chosen appeared. It wasn’t just the written answer they’d put in the portfolio but an actual rendering of what they’d picked. Scooting his chair back slightly, Merlin peered over to see that he, Morgana, and Arthur had all chosen ballet slippers. Mordred had chosen a tutu, while Sophia chose ribbons.

Geoffrey announced each candidate’s choice aloud and asked if any Sweeps had questions. When they didn’t, he moved onto the next profile. Again, Morgana and Arthur had chosen the same gift, a baseball glove. Merlin and Mordred had both chosen baseball cards, and Sophia - a pair of socks. 

They continued on for a while, none of the Sweeps asking any questions until they reached the basketball star who loved music. Going down the line, everyone had chosen the same gift - a basketball - except for Merlin, who had chosen to give him a record player. The crowd hummed and Arthur leaned his chair back, looking more closely at Merlin’s pick.

One of the Sweeps, Merlin thought his name had been something like Allen, stepped forward and waited for Geoffrey to give him the floor. “Did you choose a record player because you thought this child was naughty?”

Merlin swallowed and leaned toward the microphone between him and Arthur. “I-” A high pitched sound rang through the room, causing many to cover their ears as they waited for the feedback to fade. A hand pulled Merlin back in his seat roughly, and he turned to see Arthur pulling his arm back and crossing them in front of him without looking at him. When Merlin didn’t continue, Arthur side-eyed him and nodded toward the dais. “No, I didn’t think he was naughty, in fact he was quite high on the nice scale.”

The Sweep’s eyebrows rose, “So then how did you come up with such a different choice from everyone else?”

Merlin glanced down the line of candidates, all of whom were staring back at him. Morgana shifted slightly to catch his eyes and smiled reassuringly and Merlin bolstered himself. “I did consider something to do with basketball, only he’s been in basketball his whole life and probably has plenty already. So, I looked a little further and learned that he really loves listening to music and last year he had asked for a record player but his parents couldn’t afford one so… that’s what I chose.”

The Sweep studied him for a moment. “Are you satisfied, Allined?” Geoffrey asked after a minute. Allined hummed lightly and nodded his head thoughtfully.

“Right, on to the next one.” 

As they continued through the next profiles, the candidate’s choices became more and more varied and - thankfully - the Sweeps did in fact have questions for more than just Merlin, though they certainly had the most for him. While one or two of the others received a question per profile, every one of Merlin’s choices after the record player was questioned. By the time they’d reached the tenth profile, Merlin’s patience was wearing very thin.

Sophia had chosen a unicorn headband for the young girl, while the other three selected a variety of small stuffed animals. When Geoffrey got to Merlin’s choice, he faltered slightly, unsure what he was looking at. “A notebook?” 

Murmurs spread through the room as Geoffrey opened it up for questions and three Sweeps stepped forward: Agravaine and Morgause, as well as a woman he’d not been introduced to yet. She had a very serious face and held herself proudly. Not haughtily, Merlin thought, but she certainly commanded respect.

“Annis, why don’t you begin.” Geoffrey gestured to her and she nodded in response.

“Thank you, Geoffrey. Merlin, would you please explain your choice?” She had a very knowing gaze as she studied Merlin, and he felt a little like he was under a microscope.

“This is a notebook she lost earlier this year. It meant a lot to her and it’s what she desires most in the world.”

Agravaine took another step forward with a sneer. “And you deemed her nice enough to receive her heart’s desire? Did any of you think she ranked so highly?” He peered down the line of candidates as they shook their heads. “Well, it seems like you’ve been quite… generous.” 

He looked him up and down appraisingly and anger spiked in Merlin’s chest. He leaned his elbows onto the table and spoke shortly, “Yes, well I think she deserved some generosity.”

Agravaine’s sneer grew and he looked like he was ready to curse Merlin but luckily, Morgause stepped slightly in front of him before he could.

“What makes you say that?”

“She made some bad choices this year, but she wasn’t naughty-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Agravaine spit out, interrupting him. Merlin sighed low and tried not to roll his eyes.

“Her father died at the start of the year. Her mum had to work twice as much to support them and she had no real help or guidance in how to deal with it. This notebook,” He paused, pointing at the screen above him. “Was something she shared with her dad, it’s filled with stories they created together - precious memories for her and a few months ago, she lost it. After which her behavior got even worse. She wasn’t being naughty, she just doesn’t know how else to express her… her… her pain, her grief!” He inhaled sharply, his speech having got more impassioned as he went that he forgot to breathe. “So yes. I thought she deserved a little bit of generosity and joy. Where I’m from - that’s what Christmas is about.”

Merlin leaned back in his chair in a huff, crossing his arms and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from outright scowling. The room was filled with a stifling silence as Merlin’s words hung over them and he felt every eye in the room burning into him.

“Thank you, Merlin.” He lifted his eyes begrudgingly to see Annis studying him with an impressed smile. Merlin forced himself to chill out and sent a small, not entirely sincere, smile back to her. “Well, I am satisfied, Geoffrey. I believe we should proceed.”

“Yes, I quite agree.” Geoffrey responded quickly, not allowing Agraviane to speak again. “This marks the end of the second trial. The Chimney will deliberate and announce the standings tomorrow. Thank you all for joining us. Candidates, we shall meet tomorrow morning in the Study.”

Geoffrey nodded his dismissal and Merlin had never been so grateful to leave a room. Pushing his chair back harshly, it loudly scraped along the ground and drew even more attention to him. He dutifully ignored the onlookers and waited for Lance, who was fighting to get through the crowd that had just swarmed the space between the candidates and guards. Merlin leaned against the table, doing his best to let go of some of his anger when he heard someone say his name. When he looked up, he saw Agravaine speaking very animatedly with Annis and Geoffrey, Morgause listening closely from behind them but seemingly staying out of the conversation. They weren’t trying to get his attention, they were just very obviously talking about him which was somehow even more frustrating.

Merlin stepped up onto his chair to sit on top of the table. He hadn’t realized Arthur was still sitting in his chair until he’d almost kicked him and he muttered a lazy apology without looking. Just as Lance broke through the crowd several feet away from Merlin, loud footsteps approached from behind him. Merlin peered over his shoulder to see Agravaine stalking toward him in a huff. Sighing frustratedly, Merlin pushed off the table and turned to face him, honestly a little bit ready for a fight. He had so much pent up energy and anger and confusion that he might as well let some of it go on the greasy arsehole who’d just interrogated him for ages. But his brawl was cut short by Arthur of all people, when he suddenly stepped between the two.

“Uncle. A word?” 

Before Merlin could even process the news that Agravaine was Arthur’s uncle, Lance’s hand closed around his bicep and pulled him from the room, muttering something about Merlin needing to cool off.

Chapter Text

The candidates stood around the Chimney once again, waiting for Kilgarrah’s instruction to place their hands on the mantle and learn the results of yesterday’s trial. He hadn’t been nervous after the first trial, knowing he’d done well, but after yesterday’s second part, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He felt like he did alright, but with every explanation Merlin gave for his choices, the more unsure Arthur felt about his own.

Sure, he hadn’t looked that closely at the profiles, but he hadn’t swept through them as fast as he could, either. He just assumed they were straight forward and that the trial was more about choosing the right level of naughty & nice, not the gift itself. Hearing Merlin explain over and over about what led him to each choice, it was no wonder he’d taken almost twice as long as the rest of them. As Arthur peaked over his shoulder at Merlin fussing with the zipper on his hoodie, he had a horrible feeling Merlin might have been the only one of them who’d done it right.

The thought nagged at him all night, even when he spared a moment to appreciate Merlin’s resilience through the interrogation he’d been put through. The Sweeps had asked all of them a few questions, but they were relentless with Merlin. The first few made sense, of course he needed to explain himself but his answers made his reasoning clear after one or two questions. Berating him with several, pointed questions each round was a waste of time, and Arthur was quite sure he wouldn't have lasted as long as Merlin had before his answers had some bite to them.

There was something about him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on Arthur realized. While they waited to start the trial, Arthur felt the usual, nervous energy buzz across his skin, just like every time he was being judged. He tried not letting it affect him or his mood, but he did snap at Merlin for his incessant tapping on the table top at one point. Not his best work. 

Then, when Geoffrey announced that it would be a test they’d never seen the likes of before, his insides twisted acidically and he felt his chest start to tighten uncomfortably. Then, out of nowhere, Merlin smiled at him with a lame joke and, much to Arthur’s chagrin, it had actually helped. Arthur felt the tightness in his chest loosen, replaced with a sort of comforting warmth when their eyes briefly met. It was odd, he’d never felt anything quite like it. It hadn’t even lasted a minute, though, because when he turned back to the front, his damn uncle had been scowling at him like he’d committed some act of treason for simply looking ar Merlin.

Uncle Agravaine. The man had always been a bit of a nightmare, but he’d grown even worse after Arthur’s father died. Uther was certainly a nightmare in his own right, but at least he had a handful of redeeming qualities. Agravaine, though? Agravaine was a greasy weasel, desperate for power and attention. He had been mostly harmless when he had no real power, all bark and no bite, so to speak. But since he was barely a teen, Arthur could sense the malignant desire for more laying dormant in his eyes. All he needed was the right connections and he’d unleash it.

Agravaine was the reason Arthur had to win the competition and become Santa. It was the only way to ensure he didn’t gain any further control over the Pole and hopefully take away what power he had now. Agravaine, however, thought Arthur was in his pocket. That he’d happily bend to his will and let him be his chief advisor like any good little nephew would. So Arthur decided the best course of action was to play nice, make him think he was on his side until he won the competition and could enact real change.

That was apparently easier said than done, though, he realized after he’d thoughtlessly stopped Agravaine from attacking Merlin once again at the end of the second trial. He didn’t really know why he did it. One moment he was sitting there, unaware of his surroundigs and contemplating all of his choices in excrutiating detail when Merlin practically jumped off the table next to him. Following his gaze, he watched Agravaine elbow his way through the crowd with an outraged expression on his face, heading straight toward their table. At first, Arthur thought he must be coming to shout at him for not doing what Merlin had done, but when he got close enough to see his eyes, it was clear Merlin was still his intended punching bag. Arthur watched Merlin square his shoulders to face Agravaine, ready to defend himself yet again and something inside of Arthur compelled him to step in.

“You may go ahead.” Kilgharrah spoke into the silence of the Study, snapping Athur’s wandering mind back to the present, and directed them to step forward. 

They placed their hands on the mantle, his vision blurred to nothing before the most breathtaking gold again. When Arthur stepped back a minute later, blinking his vision back to normal, his eyes immediately sought out Merlin, who stood wide-eyed, staring at the Chimney with his hand still hovering over the mantle. It seemed like he was in shock which, Arthur supposed, was fair given that the Chimney had just put him in first place.

Arthur and Morgana tied for 2nd, Mordred 4th, and Sophia again came in 5th place. By the looks of him, it was as if he hadn’t expected himself to do well at all. Winning seemed to be the very last thing Merlin thought would happen if he’s still dumbstruck face was anything to go by. Eventually, Morgana quietly congratulated Merlin, snapping him out of his initial shock, though he still seemed pretty off balance.

They remained in the study for a few minutes, waiting for Kilgharrah to dismiss them. He hadn’t given them a date for the third trial yet, just reminded them that it involved the reindeer. Arthur had to bite back the jealous bear growing inside his chest the longer he had to wait in the study. He’d known Merlin would do well in the challenge after yesterday, he’d felt it in his gut, but envy was crawling through him nonetheless. 

After they were dismissed, Arthur peered over at Merlin, who still looked ridiculous with his wide eyes and massive ears. He watched him gape for a moment longer before seemingly shaking himself out of a trance and scan the room methodically. His eyes suddenly lit up and Arthur had to cover his mouth to hide a laugh as he watched Merlin immediately lumber his way toward the door, tripping on the rug as he stopped Gaius from leaving, nearly bringing Gaius down with him in the process.

A subtle cough pulled Arthur’s attention from the door and turned to see Morgana staring at him from across the study where she sat with Annis. Arthur dutifully ignored her, running his hand through his hair and keeping his eyes down as he quickly left the study.

“Arthur?” He lifted his eyes to see Lance hovering close by. He greeted him, feeling relieved to see a familiar face, and followed him toward the empty end of the hallway. “I need a favor.” 

Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. Lance seemed nervous about whatever he was asking for, which was odd given they’d been friends since childhood. “Go on?”

“I already know you’re not going to like it, but I need you to do it anyway, okay?” He rang his hands in front of him and Arthur started to worry that something was seriously wrong. 

“What is it?”

Lance cleared his throat and blurted his request out, “I need you to help Merlin with the reindeer.” 

“No.” Arthur said without a moment’s thought.

“Please, Arthur? I tried, but you know I’m o good with them. He’s got no one else!”

Arthur took a step closer, lowering his voice so they could not be overheard, his earlier jealousy rearing its ugly head once again. “I’m sure he can take care of himself. I don’t really fancy aiding my enemy, anyway.”

“Enemy! Oh be serious, Arthur, he’s the competition, not your ‘enemy’. Besides, I'm not asking you to make him an expert, just teach him the basics so he doesn’t make a total fool of himself. He’s already at such a massive disadvantage with all of this, you know?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and tried not to sound as petty as he felt, “You sure about that? He seemed to manage just fine when he won yesterday’s trial without my help.” He had, unfortunately, sounded very petty.

“He did?!” Lance exclaimed, the same level of shock on his face to mirror Merlin’s earlier.

“Yes, he did. So I think he’ll be just fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” Arthur turned to walk away with purpose despite having absolutely nowhere to be.

“Hippogriff!”

Arthur stopped in his tracks, turning back to Lance a little dumbfounded. “Seriously?” Lance nodded solemnly. “You’ve held on to this favor for eleven years and this is what you want to use it for?”

Lance took a step closer, “You owe me, Arthur. One favor, no questions asked.”

Arthur exhaled heavily, holding one arm across his chest and rubbing his temple with the other hand tiredly. “You’ve only known him a few weeks, you’re sure he’s worth it?”

“Yes!” He all but shouted, incredulously. He took another step toward Arthur and lowered his voice. “I… I don’t know how to explain it but he’s just…” Lance trailed off, shaking his head thoughtfully before returning his eyes to Arthur’s with purpose. “There’s something about him, Arthur. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but I can feel it in my gut. He’s worth it.”

Arthur studied his friend’s face for a long moment, unsure whether it should comfort or concern him to hear his own impression of Merlin being echoed in Lance’s plea. It didn’t matter, really, he supposed. If Lance wanted to cash in his favor on this guy, he had no choice. Letting out a heavy sigh, Arthur dropped his hands back to his sides. “Fine. Bring him to the stables after we’ve finished in the study tonight. And keep it a secret.” 

Lance beamed back at him, “Thank you, Arthur.” 

He hummed his response, patting Lance’s shoulder once before striding out of the hallway. He asked Leon to wait for him outside the Hall so he could wander around for a while and just think. After a few lousy minutes, though, his mind kept focusing on the wrong things instead of anything remotely helpful, and he decided to just return home. 

When he got outside, he spotted Gaius and Merlin walking together in what seemed like an intense conversation as Lance walked several paces behind them. What could Merlin possibly have to talk about with the Pole’s best healer? Was he injured? Or ill? He hadn’t acted as such earlier, but then again he had looked starkly pale after getting the results. Was something wrong?

Arthur stopped in his tracks and shook his head hard, reminding himself that it didn’t matter and he didn’t care. Trying to force his mind to think of literally anything other than the enigmatic, big-eared Flor, he trudged home with Leon.

“We’ll be going to stables tonight, Leon.”

“Really, why? Are you worried about the third task?” He asked cautiously, peering at him out of the corner of his eye.

Arthur exhaled heavily. “No, but I have a very old debt to repay.”

Chapter Text

“No.”

“Merlin.”

“No!”

Lance groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Why not?”

Merlin shrugged his arms wide as he stared back at Lance incredulously. “Because! I- I-” He faltered, realizing he didn’t actually have a reason better than ‘because he sucks’. “I don’t like him!” 

Lance rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the elbow, pulling him along. “You’re doing this, Merlin.”

Merlin dug his heels into the ground, forcing them both to a stop as he shook off Lance’s hand and crossed his arms defiantly. “Why are you even bothering? I told you we could stop, I’ve already accepted that I’ll do poorly in the third trial, it’s fine!”

“Because I won’t be the reason you don’t succeed.” Lance’s voice was low but urgent as his eyes bore into Merlin’s. “I can’t fail you like that, Merlin.”

Merlin frowned thoughtfully, “You don’t owe me anything, Lance. If anything, it’s the opposite. I mean, everything you’ve done for me?” With a soft smile he placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You aren’t failing anyone, mate, least of all me.”

Lance crossed his arms, defeated. “Fine.” Merlin relaxed, grateful he relented, and dropped his hand to his side. A quiet moment passed between them as they continued walking before Lance’s eyes suddenly lit up and he smiled at Merlin menacingly. “But Merlin… by that logic, not even trying to let Arthur help you is letting all the hard work I’ve done go to waste. And I don’t accept that.”

“Wha- No- hang on, that’s not fair!” Merlin whined loudly, flailing his arms wildly.

“You said it yourself, you owe it to me.” Lance took a step closer and patted Merlin’s shoulders roughly, still wearing a worrying smile. “Now… suck it up and follow me.” 

Lance turned on his heel and marched them to the stables. Merlin dragged his feet petulantly but followed, much like a toddler following his mum to the bath after getting caught playing in the mud.

The stables were pretty ordinary, it was a large, kind of smelly, building with hay everywhere. When they arrived, Arthur and his guard were bringing two reindeer out of their stalls to the open space in the middle. Lance was already white in the face, all the bravado he’d mustered not three minutes earlier had vanished before the door even closed behind them. Arthur’s guard looked over at their arrival, but Arthur kept his eyes locked on the reins he was fiddling with in front of him.

Glancing at Lance, Merlin let out a long, low breath. He knew Lance wasn’t wrong, even if he was just using his own failed logic against him. Merlin didn’t know how much being his guard was causing havoc to his normal life, every time he asked about it Lance changed the subject, but certainly it had to be inconvenient. The man had to go wherever Merlin went for weeks, what was he sacrificing to make that possible?

Merlin couldn’t just give up entirely and phone it in at the third trial like he’d intended to. Not when Lance went out of his way to find someone willing to help him. And especially not when that someone probably required twice as much convincing as Merlin had. So, Merlin was going to have to try.

It was, however, perhaps not the best day to be trying. After he’d spent most of the day with Gaius, Merlin had been feeling particularly drained. After answering a plethora of questions about himself and his magic, Gaius finally answered his own. He had learned so much about his parents, their lives there, what they were like when they were young—his mum in particular. Gaius hadn’t known his father, having only met him once or twice, but he’d spent a lot of time with his mum. It had been a wonderful, fascinating day; but it had also been emotionally exhausting. With every new piece of information, Merlin was struck with a new, difficult question about his family to contend with.

Suffice to say, Merlin was not at his best that evening and had been looking forward to going home and processing the day alone. 

“Lancelot, it’s good to see you.” Arthur’s guard greeted them as they reached the center of the room with a smile. “And Merlin, nice to meet you, officially.” Merlin smiled back politely and shook his outstretched hand.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, Leon, we're not in school anymore - you don’t have to ‘refrain from frivolous distractions such as nicknames’.” Lance teased, his voice shifting to an impression of someone they both knew as he wagged his finger in Leon’s face. They laughed heartily, even Arthur looked amused as he finally joined them. Merlin eyed them each briefly, realizing that Lance was not a stranger to Arthur like he’d thought.

Merlin wasn’t sure why he assumed as such, he supposed that after he’d complained about Arthur on their walk home from the Study for the third or fourth night that Lance would have already said something if he felt differently. But Lance never mentioned they were friends; and childhood friends by the looks of it.

“Right, well if you’re all good here…” Lance spoke, eyeing the reindeer behind Arthur warily and taking a step backward. “I’ll just be outside.” He rushed his last words as he turned on his heel and ran out of the stable. 

Merlin stared, wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open stupidly as we watched Lance scurry from the building. It hadn’t even occured to him that Lance might not stay there with him. He heard the men behind him chuckle as they watched him go. 

As the door closed behind him, Merlin mustered up the best attitude he could manage and turned around. “So… where do we start?”

After a rather awkward moment, Arthur blinked hard and cleared his throat. “Right. Okay, what do you know about reindeer?”

Merlin smiled lightly, “Plenty.” Arthur’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “But it’s all from stories and myths back home, so it’s probably all a load of rubbish.” 

“Wonderful.” Arthur responded flatly, turning his back on Merlin to guide the reindeer forward to stand between them. He was already much closer to one than he’d ever managed with Lance, who never even let Merlin even open a stall door while he was there.

Instinctively, Merlin crouched down and gently held his hand in front of the reindeer’s nose. It sniffed him briefly, then nudged his hand higher and higher until he was petting its snout. Merlin laughed warmly, scratching his way up and around the reindeer’s antlers, eliciting a sort of warbling purr that reverberated in his own chest as it lowered itself to the ground contentedly.

“Of course.” Leon breathed out behind him. Merlin flinched a little, having already forgotten he wasn’t alone with the reindeer. He shifted his body and sat next to the reindeer, still petting it, and waited for Leon to continue. “You’re a Flor. Animals and nature come… well… they’re supposed to come naturally to you.”

Merlin nodded in understanding, “I have always had a bit of an affinity with animals, though we never had any pets in the house growing up. I just thought they could sense my good nature and inability to deny them treats whenever possible.” He turned back to face the reindeer as he said the last part, scratching under its chin. “What’s your name, then? Dasher, Donner? Blitzen, perhaps?”

“Jonathan.”

“Seriously?” Merlin turned back to Arthur, surprised, but feeling even more surprised when he saw that Arthur was smiling. “Jonathan, the reindeer?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. This girl, here,” Arthur paused, crouching on the opposite side of her and running his hand from her head down the length of her back. “is Hengroen. Hen, for short.”

“Hello there, Hen. I’m Merlin.” He spoke softly, smiling in awe as Hen bowed her head to him slightly before resting it on his knee. 

“Huh.” Arthur muttered quietly as he watched them.

Merlin looked up curiously. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Well, let’s get on with it then. First, you’ll need to learn how to lead her and then we’ll go over everything you need to know.” 

Arthur spent the next hour or so teaching Merlin all the basics of reindeer handling. It was all very helpful, but after the fifth or sixth repetition of corralling Hen to and from her stall, Merlin struggled to keep his attention on what they were doing for more than a minute at a time.

When he should have been listening to Arthur explain the basics of reindeer care, Merlin’s mind was focused on whether his parents had ever worked with reindeer. As Arthur redid the harness he’d just put on Hen for the third time in a row, Merlin wondered about what his mum had liked most about the Pole, and what she had missed the most when she moved to London. 

Arthur huffed for the hundredth time as he scrutinized Merlin’s work over his shoulder, and Merlin fought the urge to roll his eyes. All he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and think, or cry, or sleep, or… he didn’t know, he just needed the day to end.

“Merlin, watch what you’re doing!” Arthur shouted, Merlin had let Hen’s reins too loose and she was making a mad dash for the food storage on the other side of the stables. The reins suddenly slipped through his fingers and both men rushed forward to grab them before she got too far away, colliding spectacularly and landing in a pile of limbs on the ground behind Hen, who’d stopped to watch them fumble around on the ground. With a groan, Merlin pushed himself off Arthur and rolled onto his back. Arthur grumbled angrily for a moment and just as Merlin angled his head to look at him, Hen’s face suddenly appeared above him and she started licking his face. Merlin laughed and halfheartedly tried pushing her away, but she would not comply until a tug on her reins pulled her away. 

Peering up at Arthur’s looming presence in front of him with an amused smile, Merlin wiped his face on his sleeve and propped himself up onto his elbows. Arthur glowered down at him, looking like he was seconds away from bursting while Leon was clearly holding in laughter of his own.

Just as Arthur opened his mouth, surely ready to give Merlin an angry lecture on animal safety or his general lack of coordination, Leon placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Perhaps that is a sign we should call it a night.” He peered toward Arthur, giving him a knowing look. Arthur stared back briefly, looking like he wanted to argue, but Leon’s eyes shifted ever so subtly toward Merlin and Arthur seemed to acquiesce with a petulant sigh. 

“Fine. Let’s clear this mess up and go.” Arthur muttered, taking Hen’s rein from Leon, who had grabbed it while the two were struggling on the ground. The three quietly cleaned the space, returned the reindeer to their stalls and refilled their water basins. When they’d finished, Arthur made for the exit without another word, Leon trailing behind him as he glanced over his shoulder toward Merlin with an apologetic shrug.

Merlin called out after them, “Arthur.” He paused, waiting til the blonde stopped and turned back toward him. “Thank you, for helping me.” Arthur’s eyebrows rose incrementally and for the first time since they’d met, he looked almost harmless as he nodded with a brief, potentially even real smile, and left.

Merlin trudged after them to find Lance and finally go home. When he stepped through the door, all three of their heads shot up to look at him in surprise. As if they’d already forgotten his pressence and he unsuccessfully fought the urge to roll his eyes. The two said their goodbyes to Lance and left before Merlin had reached their little circle. 

An arm landed heavily on Merlin’s shoulders as he watched them go. “What have you done to him, Merlin?”

“Me?!” He gawked back at Lance, who’d stepped up beside him. “I was nothing but polite to the great prat! He’s the one who shouted at me all night.” Lance threw his head back with a bark of laughter and Merlin gawked even more. “What??”

Lance just shook his head and began their walk to Merlin’s flat without another word.